#it's a bubble idiot . stir the fucking bowl

[archangeldyke-all]

request for Sevi’s reaction to jealous reader 👀

can be when they’re in a relationship or when they’re just “friends” who have mutual feelings for each other

loveee this

men and minors dni

you thought it was obvious. you and sevika have been flirting for weeks, spending progressively more time together, and tonight, you thought it was all coming to a head.

you thought she'd asked you out on a date.

two nights ago when you were pressed against each other shoulder to thigh on your couch as you shared a bowl of popcorn and watched some stupid slasher, sevika had turned to you and said 'do you wanna go out with me this weekend? to a bar or something?'

you agreed.

you thought it was obvious.

you thought it was a date.

but you've clearly misread the situation, because after chatting and giggling all night (and after you spent an hour stressing about your outfit and losing all your sleep last night from nervous excitement) sevika excused herself from the little booth you two were drinking in to 'get more drinks.'

turns out 'getting more drinks' meant flirting with a girl at the bar, grinning and flexing as some stranger feels her up.

you gulp.

the girl hands sevika a napkin, presumably marked with her number.

your nostrils flare.

sevika turns to come back to your seats, and you down the rest of your drink.

she sits across from you, pushing you your drink, and you chug it.

then you snatch her whiskey out of her hands, drinking that too. sevika gawks at you.

you stand from the booth and leave without a word, storming out of the bar.

you get about fifty feet away before she's running after you, calling your name and grabbing your shoulder.

"fuck's goin' on with you?"

"forget it. it doesn't matter now." you say, holding onto anger so you don't fall into tears.

"what?! i don't understand-- it was all fuckin' fine and i got more drinks... did i get you the wrong thing or something?" she asks. you scoff.

"you can't be that stupid." you say. sevika blinks at you. then a little smirk forms on her lips.

"wait..." she says. the anger in your chest bubbles as you anticipate her next words, "...are you jealous?" she asks. you snarl at her. she grins. "oh my god you're jealous!" she says, gleeful. you turn on your heel and storm away, desperate to get home so you can cry in your pillow.

you don't get far. sevika's grabbing you by your wrist and spinning you around to hold you in her arms. you gasp as her hand comes up to cup your face. you pout, trying to swallow back all the emotions stirring inside you.

"oh my god. i'm a fucking idiot." she whispers. you look away from her. "you -- this whole time. i didn't think you were intrested but -- you've just been waiting for me to make a move, huh?" she asks. you scowl up at her.

"what the fuck makes you think i wouldn't be interested?"

she doesn't answer your question, instead she pulls the napkin with the number out of her pocket, crumbling it and tossing it into the trash can beside the two of you. you grin.

she kisses you like she's been waiting months to do it.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay

[idkwhatimdoing1981]

Nightmares Steve x Eddie

Warnings: Slight spoilers for stranger things season 4 mention of bedwetting but nothing gross just some sweet fluff.

Authors note: These two idiots have taken over my life so here is a short little story about them Im also working on a longer smut filled story but for now enjoy this little drabble.

Eddie canonically wets the bed so that is the inspo behind this story. Steve is such a sweetheart and loves his boyfriend very much. This story is also cross posted on ao3 under my account name ghostwriter3.

Please tell me what you think of this story or if there are any mistakes comments are greatly appreciated.

Eddie snuggles next to Steve in bed. Their legs intertwined. He softly snores drool falls from the corner of his mouth. Steve 's hair tossed across the pillow, his arms around his partner's waist, pulling him in close. Eddie stirs in bed. A nightmare formed in his head. He envisions Steve being mauled by a horde of angry demon bats in the upside down, but this time Steve did not survive he fought them off best he could shielding Eddie from their sharp fangs. The bats ended up killing Steve leaving him bloody and brused.

 Eddie wakes up in a cold sweat, a puddle of warm liquid forming underneath him. Fuck he did it again. He wet the bed. Steve is still sound asleep next to him. Eddie had to clean up his mess and fast he felt so embarrassed. He is 19 almost 20. For fuck's sake, he isn't a little kid anymore.  Steve feels the wetness spread and wakes up quickly turning on his, lamp. Where the hell is all this water coming from? Eddie blushes his boxers sporting a large wet patch, he covers it with his hands and looks down at the floor. Steve looks him at him, quickly realizing what had happened.

Eddie's big brown eyes start to fill with tears as he leaves the bedroom and runs into the bathroom to hide. Steve sprints after him. He bangs on the door calling out his boyfriends name. "Go away. Just leave me the hell alone. I knew sleeping over was a bad idea," he sniffles. "Dont be ashamed its no big deal, I can clean up the mess and get new sheets,"Steve says.  "Wait so you aren't grossed out by me,"he questions?? "No babe, I'm not. Please come out so I can help you."

Eddie opens the bathroom door and pokes his head out. Steve walks in and places a hand on his lovers shoulder. "I'll run you a bath and get you some new clothes. You don't have to do anything". The other man smiles slightly, feeling comforted by his sweet boyfriend who runs him a nice warm bath with lots of bubbles.

Steve leaves the room and lets Eddie get cleaned up going into his bedroom where he cleans up the mess and places new sheets on the mattress. He soon returns with a pair of his own boxer shorts and an oversized sweater for Eddie to wear. "Here put these on and come downstairs after I'll turn a movie on for us."

Eddie nods in response after his bath. He towels off and puts on the clothes Steve had given him in that moment. He feels so cared for and loved. He was so worried about Steve discovering his bedwetting problem and not wanting to be with him anymore, but his concerns were proven to be false.

Eddie joins Steve of the sofa downstairs after his bath, cuddling next to the taller brunette who holds a bowl of popcorn in his lap. "Your a really good dude Steve. I'm so glad I met you."

"So am I baby. Your the best thing that has ever happened to me,"he hums. As the movie starts, Steve presses a kiss on Eddie's forehead, caressing his long curly brown hair. Eddie sighs, feeling safe with Steve. The thought of his nightmare faded away. No matter what happned with the demons and monsters of Hawkins, Eddie knew that his boyfriend would always be there to protect him. 

End 

[bornbreathless]

@overyourhubris from x

THE  MOST  PREDICTABLE  and  agonizing  event  in  any  punished  immortal's  life  was  their  assessment  year.  Every  seven  years,  like  clockwork,  the  immortal's  body  collapsed  and  descended  to  the  periphery  of  lifelessness,  just  at  the  edge  where  they  were  not  quite  dead,  but  also  not  quite  alive.  From  there,  they  met  with  a  messenger  of  the  Fates  who  recited  the  Moirai's  examination  results  to  determine  whether  the  immortal  learned  their  lesson  and  deserved  to  have  their  punishment  rescinded,  or  if  they  would  restart  another  seven  years.

Except  this  examination  was  rigged.  Every  immortal  knew  this,  even  the  ones  who  were  not  punished.  That  was  the  whole  point;  immortality  was  the  punishment,  and  being  toyed  with  by  gods  and  beasts  and  past  memories  was  just  part  of  their  sentence.  Only  few  have  bypassed  the  Fates  and  their  retribution.  No  one  was  surprised  when  they  themselves  were  thrown  back  to  their  body.

And  after  being  on  the  fringe  of  expiration,  this  caused  some  temporary  physical  afflictions.  Achilles  was  debilitated  and  sick,  an  aching  flu  that  seemed  to  last  longer  than  usual.  His  head  was  a  storm,  dizzied  by  how  deeply  the  Moirai  sunk  beneath  his  skin  this  time,  right  down  to  the  bitter  bones  and  made  a  meal  of  him.  You  are  selfish,  they  said,  and  self-righteous.  Cavalier  and  reckless.  Dirt  beneath  the  feet  of  the  gods.  His  mother  would  have  worse  to  say,  he  feared.  And  while  he  expected  harassment  from  Char  after  he  told  her  what  happened,  maybe  even  a  "What's  it  like  to  be  absolute  dirt?"  what  she  said  next  left  him  stunned.

@bornbreathless  :    ❝  i’m  going  to  tell  you  this,    once,   because  i  think  you  need  to  hear  it.    you  deserve  more.    you  should  expect  more  from  the  world  and  put  in  the  work  to  get  what  you  deserve.  ❞

Maybe  she  said  this  because  his  eyes  were  still  bloodshot,  cheeks  raw  from  panic.  Maybe  she  really  meant  it.  It  was  hard  to  tell.  His  fever  was  still  high,  and  focusing  meant  keeping  your  eyes  open,  and  keeping  your  eyes  open  meant  another  migraine.  But  keeping  your  eyes  closed  meant  more  terror,  so  he  had  no  choice  but  to  exist   awake.

"I  am  not  in  the  world's  favor,"  he  murmured  with  a  humorless  grin,  voice  rasping  after  so  much  screaming.  "I  no  longer  have  any  say  in  what  I  deserve  or  what  I  should  expect.  THAT  IS  THE  POINT."

As much as she enjoys their usual back-and-forth, a relationship that would more easily be described as frenemies than anything else, even Char can feel that this is far from the time for even the most gentle of antagonism. Achilles looks terrible, if she didn’t know any better she might think he was dying. She doesn’t like to see him like this.

Which is why she’s fairly pointedly pottering about in the kitchen as he tells her what’s going on. She’s an awful cook, but even she can’t fuck up tinned soup too badly, leaving it to bubble away on the stove as she makes coffee. Pauses for a second before adding a generous slosh of whiskey to the mug and setting it down in front of Achilles. He can drink it or not, same as the soup, it’s entirely up to him; the option is there. She knows that he probably still doesn’t entirely trust her, but that doesn’t keep her from wanting him to be okay. A tenderness usually reserved for the dark hours when one or both of them has screamed themselves awake, now given temporary lead.

Head tilts to the side as she listens to his answer, before her face screws up. “Who gives a shit what the world has to say about it? The world is full of fucking idiots who’d forget to blink if they had to think about it, I’m pretty sure you’re more qualified to decide what you deserve than they are.”

Char returns to the stove just as the soup begins to bubble over, stirs it through a few times before pouring it into a bowl which is set down beside the coffee. It’s now that she allows just a hint of that typical self-satisfied grin to curve her lips. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure I count as part of the world, and you’re in my favour. That’s probably good enough.”

[junisfics]

All This Time — Armin Arlert (4)

series masterlist

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Series Summary: Reader messages her best friend Armin late one night while she's drunk and needy, but will she remember the things she said to him in the morning, and if she does... will she regret it?

Party Summary: The morning after causes a temporary scare, but once Armin realizes he actually has you… he refuses to stay away

Content: Fluff, Smut / Nsfw 18 +

Content Warnings: Unprotected Sex, Very Slight Choking, Creampie (No Breeding)

You awake with an arm wrapped around your waist, and it’s not yours. It’s Armin’s, and this time you know it’s his, you know that body that’s pressed up against your back and you know the legs that are intertwined with yours.

He’s warm against you, and there’s an overwhelming feeling that washes over you that you can only describe as content.

You could hear him softly breathing, his face nestled into the back crook of your neck. His left arm is draped over your waist and snaked under your shirt so his palm rests against your stomach. His other arm must be curled up between the two of you because it’s nowhere in your sight. 

You don’t feel the need to move for quite some time, just laying with him with your eyes closed and face nuzzling into the pillow. You feel his chest rise and fall steadily behind you, and you try and match your breaths to his. But Armin’s are too slow, too even, and you can’t do it.

You savor his warmth and his touch for a while longer before growing apt for food and water. So, when the sun just begins to set down the horizon, you slip out of his arms, out of your bed, and bring yourself to the floor and towards the kitchen.

You estimate that the two of you laid there for at least a few hours given the sight of dusk. Armin came over in the early afternoon and depending on how long… that… lasted determines how long the two of you slept. 

You try your best to remain quiet as you shuffle about the kitchen, getting yourself a glass of water and opening the pantry for cleaning supplies to attempt to clean the mess of baking goods you had spilled about the floor earlier.

You smile at the domesticity of the whole thing. Armin’s been in your home before, he’s been in your room before and he’s had dinner with you before; but it was all different now. It felt better like this, him sleeping in your bed as a lover as you clean the kitchen.

Armin felt like home, is what you realize. That him being here, was him fitting himself in as the final piece of the puzzle. His little puzzle piece was always there, it was always existent, but somehow it had found itself lost under the table and tucked away in a corner. You’d been the one to drop it, but Armin had been the one who had placed himself in a place where he’d be unable to find.

But you found Armin’s little puzzle piece, and you slipped him right into the spot where he was missing. And you were finally able to see the bigger picture: that he always belonged there, and that no matter how many other pieces you tried, they wouldn’t be able to fill the spot as he does.

Armin awoke alone in your bed, and it took him a few moments to realize it was so. And as he was blinking his eyes open and processing why he was in your bed, he realized that he was the sole being in it. His heart sunk upon recognition, all the way into his stomach, and he was temporarily panicked in thinking that you’ve left him once again.

His spirits perk up a little when he hears faint clattering around from outside your room. So, Armin slides out from beneath your sheets and makes his way over to your bedroom door to peek out of the crack in it.

He can’t see much, but he can see you traveling in and out of his frame of vision. You seemed to be gathering things, followed by putting things away, and ever so often he could hear the running water of the sink.

Armin pulls back the door to leave your room, trying to remain quiet to prevent himself from scaring you. Once he steps out, he can make out what you’re truly doing. You’re cleaning your mess from earlier; the floor already seems to have been wiped clean of any sugar or flour residue, and you were continuing to file away jars while keeping others out. You had also pulled out a new bowl.

You were trying again.

Armin smiles to himself as he quietly makes his way over to you. You nimbly moved things around, so focused and precise with what you were doing. You slinked around the kitchen so skillfully that Armin could almost chuckle at the contrast it was compared to yesterday when you were stumbling around.

His heart pitter-patter’s around in his chest when he realizes you’re still wearing what he gave you earlier: his computer sciences club tee-shirt from highschool and cute little maroon panties that hugged the curves of your backside so well.

That was his now… you were his.

And, yes, it was partially the fact that you were prancing around half-dressed that got him hard again, but more so was the fact that you were doing so as his. His girl was comfortable enough to be walking around half-naked in her kitchen while he was home with her.

You didn’t kick him out this time, you didn’t change into something more presentable, because there wasn’t anything to be worried about. He didn’t put a shirt on because there was nothing for him to be worried about.

There was no awkward stage between the two of you. You’ve known each other and have loved each other for as long as either of you could remember, the only difference now was the fact that you’ve revealed it.

You were comfortable enough in this intimacy to be willing to be physically vulnerable with him. And Armin couldn’t get enough of it.

“What are you making?” He asks, making his presence known to you.

You turn to look up at him, keeping your hands on the silver bowl in front of you. You give him a sweet smile, looking down at the task at hand before looking back up.

“Dessert,” You shy away from him, turning back down to the bowl.

“Same thing as yesterday?” He asks, stepping to the other side of the kitchen island from you. 

He watches you intently, looking at the way your fingers curl around the side of the bowl and the wooden spoon. He looks over the array of baking goods you’ve kept out and pulled together, then he looks at your face; your tongue between your teeth as your stir.

“Maybe,” You let out a little laugh, feeling heat come to your face.

You were both standing in front of each other, making a cake, half-dressed, after you had just woken up from a post-fuck nap. You were smiling like an idiot, Armin’s face turning pink, as you both ignore the obvious flirtatious tension that’s beginning to form.

“I could have helped you clean up your mess, you know. It’s why I came over in the first place.” He says, occupying himself by straightening out the jars into a line.

You nod, “I know, but… I created the mess, so I should’ve been the one to fix it.”

Armin knows you aren’t just talking about baking, you’re referencing earlier. He can tell you feel bad about it, but he doesn’t need to hear an apology from you again, he never needed an apology in the first place.

“Okay,” He says softly, giving you a sympathetic smile and ending the conversation there. 

He doesn’t want to argue with you anymore, even if it’s not even arguing, he truly doesn’t want to dwell on things that are already solved. He knows that you know how he feels, and he knows how you feel, and he doesn’t feel the need to talk about it anymore if both of you know the truth.

You’re a team now.

“Do you want to help me with this instead?” You ask, looking up from the bowl and across the island to him.

He nods without verbally answering you, his eyes and face soften and you can see the muscles in his chest relax as well. His cheeks and neck are still flushed a pretty pink, and his body’s warm as he makes his way around the counter and beside you. He takes the spoon in his right hand, his bare chest pressing against the right side of your back as he reaches around you.

You can feel his head hovering above your right shoulder, his cheek just barely pressing against your temple. And although his whole body isn’t pressed against you, you can feel the presence of it behind you. 

Armin Arlert was flirting with you, and you were loving every second of it. 

Who knew he could get like this? He was so painfully subtle, but so obvious with it at the same time, he was playing innocent but somehow still exuding confidence. It was so incredibly attractive.

There was no need for him to be toying with you or trying to win you over, he’s had a claim on you, whether he was aware of it or not, since junior year. But he was doing it anyway like he was making up for all the times he wasn’t able to do so before.

You hope he can’t feel your body heating up in front of him or see the girlish smile that’s teasing at your lips due to his flirtatious intentions. You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbles around in your chest, threatening to escape. It just felt so different now, it was so much more intense now that he knew what he was doing.

You could feel yourself getting weak in the knees as he takes the spoon from your hand, remaining behind you as he stirs, his presence heavy. His left hand comes to your hip, remaining on top of the tee-shirt.

“I’ll always be here to help you, you know that right? In every way.” He says quietly, lips brushing against your ear as he speaks.

“I know,” You mumble, tilting your head to make contact with his cheek, and sinking into his touch. Your tensed muscles relax as you let your back rest against his chest.

You could stay like this forever, just with him, finally able to be with each other in the way both of you have always wanted. You don’t need to make anything official, you both already know, last night made whatever you two had official enough. 

You liked being like this. It felt true and real and raw, and you couldn’t ask for anything more. You were in your kitchen, in your home, with your lover, making a cake at dusk. It was liberating, exhilarating, and had your entire body feeling like it was floating.

You almost giggle when Armin hands you the spoon back, releasing it so he can fully stand behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, clinging to your torso like a little puppy. He turns his head and leans down slightly to rest his cheek between your shoulder blades. He lets out a deep exhale as he does so, him now being the one to settle into your warmth.

He stays latched onto you while trying your best to continue pouring in ingredients, arms around your torso, and hands fiddling with your tee-shirt. You’re quite productive for a while aside from the occasional bulky awkwardness of his arms around you while you’re trying to move around. But He moves accordingly to make sure he’s not in your way, sometimes he’ll detach an arm from you to move something out of your way or organize something.

How deprived he must have been from your touch if he’s one to latch on like this. He could have always asked you to be close, even in the past when neither of you knew what you wanted from each other, you would have still shown him the affection he needed from you… you wish he would have asked. Maybe you would have told each other the truth quite sooner if you had decided to settle for the physical intimacy.

Armin doesn’t care anymore. He’s forgotten all about the time he’s had where you were just at his fingertips, staying out of his grasp. He now lives, his conscious is steady in the now; where you’re in his arms. All he knows is that you’re in his reach, and you’re letting him pull you in, and he wants you closer, and closer, and closer.

His body is flush against yours, now preventing you from any progressive or purposeful movements. And his hands have slipped themselves underneath the tee-shirt, feeling up and tracing over the smooth skin of the upper sides of your thighs before coming above the fabric and holding your waist.

He just wants to feel all of you all at once, like he had a quarter of the day ago. But it wasn’t just the sexual aspect, he didn’t care for that. It was a plus, yes, but what he really wanted was the vulnerability and intimacy of it. He had no desire for the pleasure that came with or the satisfaction. He just wanted you, and he wanted all of you… with him. Whatever came with it was just a bonus.

His hands slide over the soft skin of your stomach, squeezing the plush flesh on occasion. He can feel the way you shiver in response; the little trembles he pulls from your body with his gentle touch. He can feel your goosebumps prickling against the soft skin of his hands and forearms as they continue brushing against your body.

You can feel his hips grinding against the meat of your ass, not intentionally looking for pleasure, you can tell he just wants closer. It was like he was trying to melt into you, two bodies becoming one. 

“Already?” You tease with a light giggle, setting down whatever occupied your hands to brace yourself against the counter.

He was hard against you, cock already throbbing and desperate for more. He’s never wished so before, but now he truly wishes didn’t have a dick… it always made things sexual when they didn’t need to be.

“Sorry — can’t help it,” He mumbles, pulling his head up so he can nuzzle his face into your neck, pressing kisses to the fragile skin before tucking his head into the crook of it.

He continued to feel over your body sensually, palms sliding over your stomach, your thighs, occasionally retreating between the two of you to squeeze the flesh of your ass before returning to your front to play with the waistband of your panties. The ones he picked out for you.

His touching had you already embarrassingly weak in the knees, all wobbly and unsteady as you latched your hands onto the edge of the counter for some kind of support. The task at hand was completely discarded, as you were focusing all your energy on keeping upright. 

Heat was swirling around in your stomach, pooling between your thighs as you feel Armin’s cock grinding against your ass. His lips were back on your neck, pressing soft kisses below your ear as he was mumbling something that sounded like ‘I love you’. 

And you could only return the admission. Tiny whispered ‘I love you’s escape your lips as you needily push back against his hips, aiding his lazy grinding.

He wasn’t trying to ask for anything more from you, he was satisfied with his feeling over your body and the little kisses on your neck. But you were giving him more, you were feeding into his desire

His teeth are nipping at your neck now and his hands have pushed the fabric of your shirt up past your hips. You’re softly moaning at the feeling of his cock brushing up against your barely clothed cunt and your eyes have fallen shut with your head rested back onto his shoulder.

And when his hands play with the hem of your panties from behind, fingers tickling the fat of your ass as he tries to pull the fabric aside to rut his still clothed hard-on right against your dripping cunt, you only aid his growing desire.

“Need you inside,” You breathe, reaching behind you grip his hip, feeling around only for a moment for his waistband before pushing it down his thighs, “Now.”

Armin grows hasty at your plea, suddenly getting knocked out of his lazy state of just wanting to feel your skin and into another mindset where he just wants to fill you. He wants to give you whatever you want, he wants to help you… in every way.

He takes his hands off of you only to push his sweats and boxers down his legs, just enough to for his cock to slap up against his stomach. And you’re already going to work at your undergarments, grabbing ahold of the inner hem of your panties from behind and tugging them aside to expose yourself to him. 

Armin doesn’t hesitate to grab ahold of the base of his cock, the other hand gripping your waist tightly as he slides the head of his dick through your cunt.

“You’re — you’re so wet,” He mumbles, getting lost in the way your slick coats his dick so nicely. He’s in awe that your arousal is due to his doing.

“Can’t help it,” You whimper, mirroring his earlier words and rutting back against him, desperate for his cock to slip inside you.

Armin pushes inside you steadily, with a low groan leaving his lips as he does so. Both of your bodies tremble and you can feel your arms shake beneath your weight. His fingers press into your hips, gripping them tightly as his head falls back onto his shoulders. His eyes squeeze shut as his jaw falls open, trying to prevent himself from prematurely cumming again.

How much change a few days and some honesty can bring a relationship. Your intimacy in the past was limited to lengthy hugs, cheek kisses, and falling asleep on each other while watching movies. And now you were letting him take you from behind, over your kitchen counter… raw. 

“God, Armin, you’re so big,” You cry, grinding yourself against his hips in a desperate attempt to adjust to this angle. You swear you could feel him in your stomach, literally shifting around your fucking organs.

He pulls out slow, shutting his mouth and taking his bottom lip between his teeth, furrowing his brows and exhaling through his nose. He tilts his chin down to his chest, cracking his eyes open just enough to be able to see the way your cunt stretches around his cock and clenches around the length of him.

You were slicking him up so nicely and enabling his dick to slide back into you so smoothly that it has a moan ripping from both of your throats. You fall down to your elbows, for your arms are no longer able to hold you up the way you need them to and splay your palms across the counter.

He opted for a steady pace once more, fucking you slow and long over quick and shallow. He loves the way you squirm when he reaches his hilt, unable to take his cock so deep, and the way you mewl out in the painful pleasure it brings.

But he wanted to take his time as well. He wants to cherish this sexual intimacy; take it whenever and however he wants it now that it’s his.

“Fuck — do you like it like this, from behind?” His voice strains as he leans over your body, his bare chest pressing against your back and his lips back against your ear. 

He’s warm, overpowering, and for a moment, you feel small both mentally and physically. His words hit you like a train, and you're sent melting once more, cunt squeezing his cock again while tremors wrack through your body.

It wasn't dirty talk, but it was talking. It was confident talking with lewd undertones, from Armin of all people. And it had your entire body lit on fire. You were subconsciously rocking back against his hips, trying to get him deeper and trying to pull more of anything from him.

“Yeah?” He asks again, murmuring against your skin and sending goosebumps across your flesh.

“Mhm,” You nod, barely able to pick your head up.

“I can feel it, you know, when you get tighter,” He seethes, pulling out but filling you again with a little more force.

It sends your front knocking against the counter and your arms reaching out in front of you, blinding searching for something to grab onto. But it only causes your forearms and elbows to bump into jars and bowls, spreading them across the counter.

You can't stop the choked-out moans from escaping, even though you've taken your lip between your teeth in an attempt to muffle them. 

“Fuck — you feel so good,” His right-hand reaches around your front, sliding up your stomach until it reaches your right breast. He squeezes it softly, using his thumb and forefinger to pinch at the nipple.

You gasp at the sensation, jerking upright, your back hitting his chest and hands coming back up with you to hold you up. It sends your whole body buzzing in reaction, the final drop of water that sends everything spilling over.

“Armin, fuck fuck fuck,” You choke, left hand flying back to his hips.

He’s going harder, deeper, and you swear you feel the head of his cock bumping against your cervix. It hurts, hurts so fucking good. And he doesn’t let up, but you don't want him to.

Then, the hand on your breast continues up your shirt, over your heaving chest until it rests at the base of your neck. It doesn’t squeeze, he doesn't go higher to grab your throat, he just holds the area where your chest meets your neck. 

“I — I’m gonna cum,” You stutter, nails etching into the skin of his hips where your hand remains latched to.

He continues to rock his hips against you, pulling you a little father upright until your right hand no longer has a hold on the countertop and your fingers are just brushing against the granite. He’s pressing on your chest to keep your back to him, refusing to let you squirm away. 

“Please, cum for me,” His voice goes soft again, ditching the sharp confidence for whiny pleading.

You struggle for thoughts, mouthing out words that aren't there, but somehow Armin manages to hear an “Inside — cum inside me,”

His hips stutter for a second, and only a brief wave of panic washes over him as he realizes he's not going to be able to pull out even if he wanted to. But then he remembers that you're on birth control. Christ, he's even picked your prescription up for you once or twice.

“You want it?” He asks, breath hot against your ear.

“Yes, please, please, please,” You beg

So, only after a moment of hesitation where he takes the time to hope you take your pills, he grits his teeth and buries his cock inside you until you’re yelping as you cum around his cock. The way you clench around him is what finally tips him over. And with a shaky groan and stuttering hips, he cums inside.

You can feel your stomach heat up from the inside out, in more ways than one. You can feel his release pooling around hot and thick inside you, and it sends warmth spreading all throughout your body. 

Your fingers are tingling with electricity and your legs are visibly trembling as you suck in air. Armin can feel your pulse fluttering sporadically beneath his fingertips, and every inhale and exhale you take shifts his forearm atop your chest.

He gives you a few moments to catch your breath, releasing his hand from your throat and dropping both of them down to steady your hips. Your palms meet the countertop once more, and you have to lean over them to stop yourself from crumbling to the ground.

He can feel his cum seeping out of you, dripping down the length of his cock. And when he pulls out, it’s almost unsettlingly slick around him.

“Shit —” He hisses, sharp pleasure running up his stomach due to the overstimulation.

He hears little gasps from you as you lean over the counter on your tip-toes, head lolled forward and still breathing heavily. Your panties are still pulled to the side, the fat of your ass keeping you exposed. And once his sweats are pulled back over him, Armin reaches out to pull them back in place.

“I love you,” You say, voice still a little shaky in your post-orgasmic state. You don’t look back at him while you speak, but Armin still looks at you.

“I always have,” You continue, “And… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just — I love you too much to lose you over it.”

“I know,”

“Stay with me,” You straighten up, pushing your hair out of your face as you turn around to him.

“I will,”

Armin grabs ahold of your wrist and gently pulls you to him. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and there’s not a moment of hesitation where you don’t do the same. Your face is pressed into his chest, still warm from earlier, but you don’t mind. 

You don’t ever want to go without his warmth again, in both a physical and spiritual state. And you won’t have to, because he feels the exact same way.

He holds you, with his lips pressed to your hairline and arms holding you tight, only pulling away to speak playfully.

“Let’s finish dessert, yeah?”

[shinobimagpie]

Congrats on 25 followers! 🎉

I would love Kakashi & Gai with the squrares:

Lifelong Friendship & “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

Only if you’re up for it, of course!

Oh heck yes! Thank you so much for this request anon! I had a great time coming up with who should be talked into what. I hope you enjoy this one! Challenger for the 25 Follower Bingo Event (requests still open!) Characters: Kakashi and Gai, with guest appearances by their teams Prompts: Lifelong Friendship + “I can’t believe you talked me into this” Warnings: None, KakaGai if you squint

“Gai…” Kakashi says slowly. “This looks…questionable.”

An understatement, it looks positively vile, caustic, bordering on inedible except by the most desperate or foolish of men. The dish bubbles in a practically threatening manner.

“You aren’t afraid of the challenge, are you Eternal Rival?!” Gai booms from next to him and Kakashi curses that stubborn little voice deep down inside him that has been yelling back ‘Of course not!’ every single time Gai has done this since they were kids. He stirs the noodles cautiously with his chopsticks and Kakashi gulps at the hot and sour plume of steam that rises from it once the surface is disturbed. Oh god, it makes his uncovered eye water. No. No. This is a matter of his health. He will be paying for this all weekend if he partakes, doubly so if he can’t finish the whole bowl as the challenge calls for. He really shouldn’t...

But Gai’s students, staring him down from over his rival’s shoulder, don’t help his resolve to back down; nor do his OWN students chattering in encouragement from the other side of him.

“You can do it Kakashi-sensei!” Naruto crows, Sakura trying to hold him in his seat. TenTen and Lee are likewise whooping, while Neji and Sasuke stare each other down like dogs on guard.

And Gai is looking at him with that familiar beaming smile, with that spark of determined delight in his dark eyes that Kakashi has never really properly been able to refuse.

Screw it. He can do it, it’s just a bowl of food.

If he eats fast he’ll probably hardly taste it!

“Oh alright then,” he groans, to a chorus of cheers from the genin, pulling his mask down around his throat and limbering up his hand for the chopsticks.

He and Gai bump fists and clap hands, as is tradition, before Gai points his utensils at Teuchi, who is standing ready with a stopwatch on the other side of the counter.

“Alright,” Gai declares, hunkering down. “We’re ready!”

Kakashi lowers his head into a ready position over the bowl, chopsticks poised, sweat beading on his brow as he gets a face full of the pungent spices again. Fuck. He is making a mistake.

He is not going to STOP making the mistake, but he sees it for what it is which is something, right?

“Three… Two… One… GO!”

The first mouthful hits like a punch to the face. Kakashi slaps his free hand on the counter, groaning as his eyes immediately water up so much he can’t see. He blindly scoops another helping onto the chopsticks and keeps shoveling noodles into his mouth, chewing the absolute minimum amount needed to get the ramen past the back of his throat. His lips and mouth and tongue are on fire and the intensity just keeps climbing. What the hell did Teuchi put IN this?!

Gai bites on something that makes him yell through a full mouth and he throws his head back in Kakashi’s peripheral vision, struggling to swallow whatever he’s stumbled into from the sounds of it. Kakashi hits the offending item himself a second later, a whole stewed pepper in the depths of the broth that makes the roof of his mouth water intensely and his tongue go practically numb with tingling pain. He groans in discomfort but keeps going, grabbing up the bowl from the counter and tipping it to his mouth, hoping he can drink down the last of it before Gai makes it through the pepper.

Kakashi slams his empty bowl down a split second before Gai does the same, throwing both arms in the air with a whoop of victory that his genin echo in spades, jumping and high-fiving each other.

“1 minute, 27 seconds!” Teuchi declares, raising a hand over Kakashi’s head. “New record!”

Gai, rivers of tears still pouring down his bright red face, turns to Kakashi and thumps him so hard on the back that the copy ninja almost throws up his whole bowl in what would have been a thoroughly disqualifying manner.

“A fair defeat, rival!” Gai croaks, bent over the counter and coughing hard into his fist. Kakashi nods in agreement, but he thinks he would be enjoying winning a lot more if he could feel his frigging face or stop his eyes from watering. How does this keep happening to him? Why does he have no self control when it comes to this big green idiot?!

“How do I keep letting you talk me into this stuff, Gai?” he groans, fanning his burning mouth with one hand, and his rival gives a booming laugh laced with a spice-induced wheeze.

“All I ever have to do is ask if you’re afraid to take me on, Kakashi!”

“...Well,” Kakashi admits, still panting. “You have me there.”

Teuchi leans on the counter and gestures between the pair of them with a raised brow.

“Soooo, you two want some ice-cream?”

“YES!”

[katwriter-1990]

Chapter One-Bailey

Bailey

I woke up to the sound of the birds singing the highest melodies; they were the opera to nature’s scene, followed by the vivid and golden rays of the morning’s sunrise reflecting into the glass against my windows, letting the sun rays glisten and brighten the entire room with colors of gold yellow everywhere. It was morning, time for another day to get ready. I glanced at my watch: 7:15am. I groaned slightly but still managed to gain my energy and sit right up at the edge of my bed. Stretched and yawned, releasing the tension from lying on a flat surface for an extended period of a night.

I got up and walked into the bathroom and looked straight at my reflection. Not a pleasant sight at all. As highlighted and bright, my hair was full of knots, and my ponytail was lopsided and tangled. My face is a little pale, and my eyes with dark circles on the bottom. Really cringing. I yawned one more time, took my hair out, and fixed it into a more organized bun. I turned on the sink, the faucet squeaking, then the water started running, making little splashes against the sink bowl. I took my L’oreal face wash, squeezed a quarter-sized amount in my palms, and then rubbed my hands together, lathering it up. I began to wash my face, rinsed it down, and let the cool water awaken my skin. Suddenly, I felt less fatigued. I began to brush my teeth and rinse my mouth with some mouthwash. Then suddenly, my energy was urging for caffeine. I opened the door and stopped in my tracks. I must walk past him and cannot wake…him. Quietly.

I would be lying if I said I was happy with this stranger in my bed; that stranger is known as my husband. Henry Quinton. The best lawyer in New York, but he wasn’t the best husband in the Quinton Residence; he was all serious and bland, he was bored. I knew he was bored, and he has always been even though we have been together for twenty-seven years. But then, if I point this out and try to ask why aren’t we the same anymore, I am the crazy one; I am overreacting. Or so, he says. What is a woman like me to do other than just shut down and pretend I am happy? Pretend happiness, as I like to call it. He’d create it as a routine, as a scripted show when it came to being at work parties and family gatherings. It was all a show so that no one would talk. No one would gossip. And find out that the “perfect” Quinton couple is actually a toxic joke, and I am the punchline.

If anything, I am the one that’s fucking bored.

I walk downstairs and go straight into my kitchen. The same sun rays that had brightened my room were glimmering through my large windows in the living room and kitchen, making little rectangle shadows against my marble kitchen counter. I pressed the “on” button on my coffee machine, then it started blowing steam, and I began to see a small dark river flow from the nozzle into the glass pot. I grabbed my favorite mug. It had me and my grandma’s picture from our trip to Colombia, followed by “I love you,” written across it. At this time, the coffee is ready, and I pour the dark brown liquid into the mug, grab some cream and sugar, and stir the mixes all together. I look into the cup and see tiny white bubbles spinning in the middle. I blow into the coffee and take a nice sip, and exhale with relief. I opened my porch door and set into beautiful scenery with my yard. All I saw was a big green hill, surrounded by trees and a golden circle above made everything so bright and colorful. The skies are bright blue with funny-shaped fluffy clouds that make you curious how comfy they are. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and took another sip of coffee. This was my tranquility, inner peace, at least where I felt alive and not looked like a trophy wife. I didn’t have to watch him ignore me and not love me like he tells the world he does. It wouldn’t be long until he wakes up, and then it’s lights, camera, action.

I looked at the clock when I heard the alarm go off upstairs, followed by a loud and harsh cough. It’s the man of the house himself. He has risen. I listened to the bed creaking faintly as he got up, his heavy footsteps creaking along from the bedroom to what it sounded like to the shower. The door shut, and I heard the shower go on. By now, it’s 7:45. He’s getting ready for his big day. Mr. Lawyer. My husband. My boring fucking husband. Most of my girlfriends say I am one lucky woman. Living in a luxurious penthouse, rich lawyer husband, maids, fucking parties were all these high-end folks that have been the heirs to the family’s financial benefits. Oh, yes, according to them, I am the envy of our local country club. Yet, here I am, screaming and suffocating while I woke up every day and hoped he’d hold me and love me like he used to. Now it’s just out-of-town lawyer cases and missed memories.

I made breakfast. His favorite, eggs, and oats with a glass of coconut juice. I’d tell him to go fuck himself if it were up to me. But it’s not worth losing my comfort zone of luxury. I didn’t grow up with this life and never surrounded myself with people who lived like this ether. So, it’s not worth losing it. I’d rather keep my mouth shut and just suck it up. Yes, I know, I am an idiot.

I leave his breakfast plate on the table and then start washing the dishes. I hear his shoes tapping down the stairs. He clears his throat, and I turned around.

“Morning,” I said softly.

“How long ago did you just cook this food?” Henry said, angrily.

Not a good morning back to me, or a good morning kiss. Just that first belligerent question. I then imagined myself throwing the fucking wet frying pan at him, and just watch him fall to the floor, blood, brains splattered and all. But it’d be too risky. I’d end up in jail and then lose everything either way.

“I just finished shortly before you came down,” I said, calmly.

He was silent. Even with my back turned, I knew by now he’s touching the food to test it out to see if I am lying.

“It’s not even hot.” He groans. “Fucking great.” I hear his chair pull out, then being pulled back in. I turn around, hoping that what I am about to ask him will lighten the mood and redirect the hostility. I cleared my throat, and grabbed my cup of coffee, and walked over to him.

“Hey, listen, babe. Maybe we should have a date night? You know, spend some time together? It’s been a while and—”

“Can’t.” He interrupts me. “I am heading to Boston for a case, a big one. Could take days.”

“Wait? Again? You left Boston last week, and you said that the other case was no longer your problem. Do you have another case? In Boston? Again?”

He slams his fork down loudly.

“Damn it, Bailey. What the fuck! You are starting this early. I am a fucking lawyer! I have to travel to work so I can fucking pay for this house! The bills! Your life! You’re in no position to question my job. Just shut the hell up, please! I am trying to eat my breakfast in peace!” He rolls his eyes and gets back to his plate.

I stood there motionless. Hurt. Humiliated. I wanted to smack his face and tell him to respect me, that I am his wife. And to say to him to shut the hell up. But instead, I am silent. I take the word jabs he just threw at me. I clear my throat.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything; he just keeps eating. Doesn’t even look up at me.

I turned around and slowly walked up the stairs. Feeling a sharp pain in my throat and in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know where I was for a second. But I walked up the stairs, went into my room, and just sat on my balcony. I was numb and in my thoughts. But my thoughts were numb, too. My heart was in slow motion, and I could feel the tears coming out, but somehow I could control them; it’s what you get for being in an unhappy marriage. You learn to control the tears and let them out on command. I heard Henry’s glass plate clash into the kitchen sink downstairs, the chair being pushed back into place at the table. Followed by footsteps pacing back and forth as he gets his suitcase and works stuff together. The keys jingling as he walks to the door.

“I’m leaving.” He calls up. “I’ll call when I can.”

“Okay, babe,” I shout back. I love you. Have a good trip.”

Silence. Then the door slams. I got up from my balcony chair and watched him walk to the parking lot of the car.

“Hey!” I called out. “I said I love you, asshole!”

“Yes, I heard you. Ditto.” Henry says, continuing to walk to the car without looking back.

I shake my head as I watch him start the engine and pull out quickly as if he was trying to leave the premises stat. What did I do wrong this time? Why won’t he love me? What the fuck is wrong with me?

I walked back into the house and looked at my reflection in the mirror again. And stared, studying each part of my body. My boobs got done, my hair color changed even though he didn’t say anything about it. I started to pick at everything about myself and just kept wondering if I’d change, would he notice me then.

I hope he loves me one day.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 178

178

12 days after collapsing, Keith finally came back to him. Showing signs of waking, Lance hit the call button, summoning Coran who immediately moved to Keith’s side, Lance forced back for his own safety as no one knew how Keith would react to suddenly being a wolf.

Groaning, Keith tried to pull his hands up, snarling when nothing happened. Slumping down, he let out a long breath. Lance’s gaze remained firmly on Keith’s face. If his boyfriend couldn’t distinguish scents, he hoped seeing him would be enough to reassure Keith

“Keith?”

Mental confusion was to be expected. Heck, brain damage possible. Keith tensed at Coran’s voice, yet drifted off before making a verbal reply. Much the day passed with Keith out of it. His eyes opening once or twice to stare up at ceiling, then he’d drift off again.

Verbalness didn’t come until mid-evening. Coran shining a torch in Keith’s eyes, Keith mumbling to “fuck off”, quite slurred but there. Lance laughing in relief. He couldn’t picture a more Keith way to wake up when he’d had his sleep interrupted and not been woken with kisses and promises of coffee. Knowing he should stay back, Lance didn’t. He really couldn’t. Taking Keith’s hand in his, he squeezed slightly too hard, his boyfriend’s eyes fluttering back open to stare directly at him

“Hey, babe. You’re okay. You’re okay and you’re safe”

“Lunnnce?”

Lance smiled through his tears as he nodded

“Yeah, babe. It’s me... I’m here”

“Smells... bad...”

The way Keith wrinkled his nose sent Lance’s heart soaring

“That’s because you’ve never smelt a vampire quite like me”

“Dun like...”

Yeah. He got it. He smelt like something dead that Keith would roll around in. He’d have to make it exceptionally clear that peeing on his death soil would not be tolerated

“I know. Rest some more for me, babe”

Keith was stubborn, his gaze glassy, tugging on his restraints he bared his teeth, showing off his now exceptionally pointed canines

“Whaaaas wrong with me”

Shit. His boyfriend must be more aware than Lance thought he was. Smiling, he tried to reassure him. Those cuffs probably had Keith’s brand new ego furious and confused

“Nothing, babe. Nothing is wrong with you. You’re going to be okay. I love you. Now go to sleep. We’ll talk when you wake. I’m here. I’m not going aware”

Coran put his hand to Keith’s head, Keith’s eyes starting to droop. Surely Coran’s plan wasn’t to make Keith sleep every time he woke up?

“Whaaad...s... wrong with me...”

“Nothing at all. I love you”

Keith dozed for another two hours. Lance didn’t mean to, yet ended up doing the same. He woke to find Keith staring at him intently. Much more lucid than the last time. Lance felt that same heart raising happiness as the first time Keith had opened his eyes on his own

“Babe?”

“What did you do me?”

There was a little slurring but no where near the same amount as when Keith woke before

“Babe...”

Keith drew his head back, eyes guarded. A quick glance to Keith’s hand confirmed his claws had come through. Keith probably didn’t know what to do with the energy running through his veins or how to control it

“Somethings wrong with me... what did you do to me!”

“Keith. You’re okay. You’ve been in a coma, for the week and a bit...”

His soft and gentle tone was snapped at

“What did you do to me?!”

The allegation of him doing something tore Lance’s happiness away. Where the fuck was Coran when he actually needed him?

“Let me call Coran, he’ll be able to explain”

“Fuck Coran! What’s wrong with me, Lance!? Why are the light to bright?! Why do you stink?!”

Lance‘s bottom lip trembled, head dropping forwards. He hadn’t wanted this for Keith

“You had a brain bleed. You nearly died. Coran tried to revive you out of it, but nothing was working...”

“No... no...”

Keith had always been smart, even if he didn’t believe it for himself. His eyes went to his hands, then back to Lance, narrowed in anger directly at him

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do this. But you were dying...”

His boyfriend yelling, as Lance winced in guilt

“You turned me?!”

“I didn’t...”

“You fucking turned me?!”

Hyped up on anger, Keith tore the restraints off the bed. His boyfriend shooting forward, to slap him across the face with enough force Lance felt like his brain had been pingponged

“Get out!”

“Keith, please...”

“You broke my trust and you fucking turned me into a monster?! I’d rather be dead!”

Aggression on the back of a change was to be expected. Keith didn’t mean the words he was saying. His senses overloaded by how huge his world now was. Holding his smarting cheek, Lance started to cry

“Babe. Please... please listen to me... Coran said he’d tried every other possible way...”

“Then he should have found another one! Get out! Get out, I don’t want to see you!”

God. He knew Keith would be messed up. He’d found a place to belong and now that place had turned him into this. Stumbling away from the bed, he didn’t move fast enough. Keith’s hands going to the restraint on his left ankle. For all he’d done, now it meant nothing. Keith’s ego didn’t recognise him as friend. Nor did it see him as foe. It saw him as a traitor.

Slipping out Keith’s room, Lance was met by their friends gathered in the corridor. Hunk holding flowers, the first to stand

“We... heard he was waking up”

Pidge the first to realise something was wrong. Her eyes filling with guilt as she looked to her lap. Shiro the first to go... there

“What did Keith say?! Is he okay?!”

A bitter laugh broke free. He’d fucking told them. He’d told them Keith wouldn’t okay with this. Even if the idiot wanted the bite to stay together, the choice had been forced upon him. Raising his head, he let his hand drop, broken smile on his lips. He took no delight in watching Shiro’s face fall with his words

“Congratulations, Shiro. He said he didn’t want to see me and that he’d rather be dead. I hope you’re happy with everything you gotten. Coran, he snapped the restraints. I recommend you get in there before he tries to hurt himself”

Brushing past Shiro, the flower Hunk held fell to the floor. Pidge quickly to hug Hunk tight. Curtis comforting Shiro. Matt and Rieva both gazing down at their hands. Funny how no one moved to comfort him. He’d poured every ounce of love into caring for Keith, even when he knew he was being a dick about it, he thought they understood. Walking through the group, he felt drained and done. He’d thought he’d have to walk away alone, until Allura came jogging up to his side, then moved into his path

“Leave me alone, Allura”

“I can’t. You’re like a brother to me, Lance... Let me in”

“I can’t...”

“Lance”

“What do you expect me to say? Keith’s finally coherent and the first thing he says is that he should be dead. He... he said I broke his trust”

Digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, the sadness he felt the others didn’t deserve to see spilled out. Breaking Keith’s trust was what hurt the most. He could understand Keith’s anger, but to think Lance had chosen this. Like he’d been waiting for this to happen, that’s what cut the deepest. Allura didn’t care. Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed his neck

“The Keith I know wouldn’t mean it. He’s confused and hurting. He needs time”

“And what am I supposed to do in the mean time?! He hates me!”

“He doesn’t. You need rest, come with me”

“I want to go home!”

“I know, but you’re emotionally exhausted right now. And Keith, he’ll need you when he settles. Come with me to my rooms. If you feel the same after you’ve rested, I’ll come home with you. I’m not leaving you alone, even if you hate me for it”

Lance shook his head at Allura

“I could never hate you”

“Then you’ll just have to let me in. Here, raise your head”

Lance sniffled as he did. Allura blurred into a blob from his tears. Wiping at the stream, she smiled warmly at him

“That’s better. We’ll work this out together”

“I don’t see how”

“It’s always darkest before the dawn. A hot shower and a good meal, things will seem better with some rest”

*

Allura prepared him a warm bath with bubblegum scented bubbles. Taking his time, the warm water seemed to cool too fast. Keith on his mind, as he had been nonstop. Rieva and Matt would have been there had Keith turned aggressive. Rieva would welcome Keith into their pack. The three of them now sharing something he wasn’t part of. In a world of scents, what if Keith found Matt and Rieva a more attractive match than himself? Matt could be spacey, and horny, but he was good looking in his own way. Rieva was plain beautiful. She was smart and witty. She had a dry sense of humour, and kept herself grounded, though she’d be a femme fatale if she played up her ego. No male wolf could resist her. He was just Lance. A boy from Cuba. With not that much to offer now he was jobless.

Allura had prepared a fluffy robe for him, it waited with a pair of her pink fluffy slippers by the bathroom door. Lance wasn’t sure he deserved such luxuries, but she’d taken his clothes away, not leaving him with much choice in what to wear. Bundling himself up, the fabric smelt of flowers. Kind of nice, and kind of making him long for his mother. Knowing such thoughts would do him no good, he made sure Allura’s bathroom was acceptably clean before letting himself out into the living area. In the small kitchenette, Allura had pulled her hair up, something green being stirred in the bowl in front of her

“How are you feeling?”

Was it wrong to feel better? He’d known he let himself go looking after Keith, he hadn’t taken the time to enjoy the movement of the twins when he had Keith to think of. It’d been nice to reconnect with the feeling of them moving inside of him. Pressing against the spots his hands laid on

“I feel bad to say I feel better”

Allura tilted her head, her smile not waving in the slightest as she scraped the spatula on the side of the bowl

“You’re allowed to feel better. I’m sorry. I think I messed this up. I was attempting to surprise you”

Shuffling over to her, Lance had no idea what the goop was

“Should I ask?”

“I thought perhaps a face mask and some self pampering would help you relax. I’m afraid you’ve started growing a mono-brow”

“I’m a mess, aren’t I?”

“Nothing a little self love won’t cure. I’ve got some blood too. Relatively fresh, from this morning”

Allura’s kindness made him feel shitty

“I don’t deserve this”

“I think you do. I heard about what happened while we were dealing with that demon. Everyone has been so worried about you and Keith”

“They should have been worrying about Keith and Curtis”

Allura giggled. Lance wasn’t what there was to giggle about

“Curtis is healing. You haven’t stopped since you woke. Coran was quite frustrated at your stubbornness in taking care of Keith”

“I can imagine. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he hated me”

Taking his hand in hers, Allura shook her head, scolding him for being stupid

“Coran would, and could, never hate you. Never. He simply wished you’d rest more”

“I thought... if I stopped, I’d lose him. I thought that if maybe I was there when he woke he’d be less scared. Like he’d see me and that... would make it okay. You know, maybe he’d listen to me instead of seeing me as a threat. I know it was stupid being a vampire when he’s now a wolf... I feel stupid. I felt like love would conquer all... I... I trusted in our bond”

“Your bond is still there. You still love him. This will work out, I know it”

Lance sucked his bottom lip, feeling like he was intruding for asking

“Is that something you saw?”

Allura’s smile wavered

“Oh, no. No, I haven’t seen it. I just have faith”

Damn. Her foreseen futures never seemed to be anything good... much like her attempt at a home made face mask

“I’m sorry but I’m low on faith right now. I appreciate this though... why don’t I start a new batch from scratch? You’re still recovering too”

“I must admit, I don’t have the knack for this like you do. Lance, I feel like I’ve been a terrible friend. I must confess I did avoid both you and Keith. I didn’t want to see anything bad”

“It’s okay. I get it. It’s not something you can control”

“That doesn’t excuse not being there for you”

Lance snorted. Allura would have been if she could have been. She’d needed days to recover from the demon incident, plus she was probably running around micromanaging everything to free up Coran’s time

“I haven’t exactly been the easiest person to be there for. I haven’t even asked about Lotor”

Allura sighed dramatically, Lance feeling the edges of his lips turn up. She continued with her theatrics, playing out his and her part in two different voices

“You honestly don’t want to know. He’s all like “I’ll come back!”, and I’m all like “You don’t have to!”, and then I find myself missing him. Then he’s all like “I have a good reason”. Does he not think I know that? Don’t mention his terrible tastes in suits! I wonder to myself what I must be thinking?”

“He tried to do a good thing...”

“He did, yet, he makes me so mad, I want to stomp my foot and scream”

“No one’s stopping you”

“This much is true. If you’re taking care of the face masks, I’ll get that blood out. I hope you’re prepared. I would like one order of a night off with some serious pampering, and no emergencies”

“You and me both. What are we going to watch?”

“I have no idea! Ugh! Decisions...”

Lance let her make him smile. Allura was often so calm and composed, to see her like this reminded him of when he was kid

“Allura, can I do your hair for you?”

Taking her pony tail in her left hand, Allura looked at the end of it

“I thought we agreed we were going for self love”

“I know. You have such beautiful hair, it makes me want to braid it like I used to do for my sisters”

“In that case I would love it!”

“Great. Let’s get the prep done and settle back for some serious relaxing”

Settling in to watch a rom-com, Lance liked hanging out with Allura. Face masks came first, then Lance braided Allura’s hair according to a photo she liked on Google. His snacks for the night consisted of blood, and a few handfuls of stolen popcorn and they curled up on the sofa under a bright pink unicorn blanket. He didn’t make the best visitor, needing to pee meant disturbing Allura, but she never made a big deal out of it.

Nearing the end of the first movie, Lance was starting to doze off when there was a knock on Allura’s door. Comfortably warm and settled, the pair of them looked at each other before Lance pulled the “It’s your room” card on her. Allura missed Lotor a lot. Lance had a feeling that she’d come to understand Lotor differently since he actually kind of tried to prove he wasn’t as bad as he led everyone to believe. Sitting up, Lance watched Allura cross the space, able to jog without a heavy belly in the way. Stepping back from the door, Lance watched something white being waved. He could smell Hunk and Pidge there.

Not wanting a fight, he sank lower in the sofa. Hands on his belly to keep himself grounded

“Pidge! Hunk! What a lovely surprise. What brings the both of you here?”

“We wanted to see Lance... He’s still here, isn’t he?”

Allura looked to him. Lance peaking over the back of the sofa

“He is...”

“Look, we brought movies and food. We don’t want to fight. We want to see our best friend”

Damn Pidge. He couldn’t be mad at either of them, let alone fight with them when they’d really done nothing wrong

“I’m not sure...”

Allura tried her hardest to be polite, but what was the point of having friends if he didn’t make the effort when they’d made the effort to come see him?

“It’s okay, Allura. They can come on in”

Making a beeline for him, Lance found Allura’s place stolen by her as he copped an armful of Pidge. Two shopping bags hung off each arm, not that that stopped her

“We thought you might have left”

“I don’t have my keys”

“I’m sorry. You know I’m not mad at you, right? Me and Hunk aren’t mad”

He couldn’t escape. He didn’t want to think. He wanted to enjoy hanging with Allura, and now Pidge and Hunk

“Pidge, I can’t deal with that right. But I’m not mad at you guys either”

Pidge pulled back, beaming mischievously

“Good! Now, Hunk and I did the drive around. We’ve got garlic knots, Italian, Chinese, pizza, slushies, and DVD’s”

“DVD’s are totally old school”

“I didn’t know if Allura had streaming or not. I forgot to check before we left. Oh my god, you missed the biggest fight too. Curtis called Shiro a “wanker”. He was going to come with us, but Coran said he shouldn’t be leaving the medical ward yet”

He adored Pidge, but that was one part of her that made him feel bad. She was so fiercely loyal that she found herself “picking sides” when there shouldn’t be sides being chosen

“Pidge. Shiro’s Keith’s precious brother. This is between me and him. I don’t want you guys being mad at him because of what he did”

“You’re so mature. I mean...”

Nope. No. He didn’t want this at all

“Pidge. Please. Right now Allura and I are on a mission not to think about that. I want to focus on me and the twins. Please can we leave Keith moving out to another day?”

Pidge’s eyes widened in shock

“He’s moving out?”

Lance didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. It’d all come down to how much Keith hated him once he calmed down

“We’re basically over at this point in time... and now I’m about to cry again”

Pidge shook her head as she started rummaging through one of the bags looped over her left arm. Lance fanned his face, not wanting tears to remove the lingering tingles from the face mask

“No! Noooo. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry. Here, look, I’ve got chocolate too. It’s the good stuff. Full bars and all”

“You guys can stay, but... I don’t want to talk about this...”

“Okay! Deal. Allura, is it okay to put stuff on the table? Or are you a sit at the dinner table kind of girl?”

Allura shrugged. Bouncing back from the arrival of Hunk and Pidge and off to get more bedding... which was pink. Allura really loved pink and pink looked great on her

“I don’t mind either way”

“Excellent! Now, what movie do you want to watch? I’ve got horror and I’ve got b-grade horror”

He liked the rom-com... but the rom-com didn’t like him back. He missed Keith. He wondered what Keith was doing right now. If he was okay. If he and Shiro were talking. Or if Shiro had been yell and growled at too. He didn’t want anything that made him think

“B-grade”

“Excellent! It cost me a whole dollar, which we all know means badness guaranteed!”

“You intentionally watch bad movies?”

Pidge snorted both at the comment and mound of fluffy pink blankets she was carrying over

“Yeah. That’s the whole point. We act out the stupid bits and we point out the flaws”

“I‘ve never tried. I hope I won’t annoy you”

“Allura, you know more than any of us about this creepy stuff. I intend to tap into that wealth of knowledge”

“I shall try my very hardest. Also, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to give me my spot back. Lance makes the most comfortable of pillows”

“But you got up”

“To let you. Would you prefer I asked you to leave?”

Pidge gaped at Allura, before shaking her head in defeat

“Damn. I never thought you had it in you. Respect, girl. Respect. Hunk, shove, I want to cuddle Lance”

“No can do. As his official best friend and sunshine of his life, I’ve claimed this spot for Hunk kind”

Pidge blew a raspberry

“You both suck. Don’t think I won’t remember this!”

“You won’t once you get your hands on your slushy”

Pidge rolled her eyes at Hunk, before sighing heavily at Lance

“He said I couldn’t have four flavours. I got four flavours. He brought whatever comes next on himself”

Lance would always stand by the opinion four flavours were too many, yet if it made Pidge happy, than he’d keep that to himself

“Alright, Gremlin. Let’s get the food out. Then you can have your slushie and we can have a real night in”

“A real night in” that lasted another half an hour for Lance before he fell asleep against Hunk. His best buddy not missing a step by wrapping his arm around him and tucking him up against his side.

[lavenderslotus]

Macarons and Chill

My first BakuCamie fic!! Hope you guys enjoy 🤗 Also cross posted on FF.N and AO3!

Summary: In which Bakugo and Camie try to make macarons in the midst of a global pandemic. 

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

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kick you out of my goddamn apartment, woman.” Bakugo snarls as he nearly rips the door off its hinges.

Camie merely blinks, clearly nonplussed by his tone. “Chill, Bakubae. I’m not even inside yet. Were you trying to hide your porn stash?”

“Can’t you see I’m in the fucking middle of something?!” Bakugo ignores her obvious jibe.

It’s only then Camie registers his uncharacteristically disheveled appearance. Donned in a black tank top that was smeared with flour and an orange Ground Zero apron that hung haphazardly on his hips, Bakugo looks positively dripping with annoyance. His already unkempt hair is matted in several different directions and if Camie didn't know any better, she would say that whatever he was attempting to bake was currently besting him.

Despite the atmosphere of the room, Camie pushes her way around Bakugo and flounces into the living room. “Ojamashimasu!” She sings as she kicks off her shoes in a hurry and practically runs into the kitchen.

“Fuck me, right?” Bakugo mutters as he bends down to fix her shoes so that they were perfectly aligned. She had been appearing more times on his doorstep than he cared for during this whole quarantine bullshit yet still didn’t have the decency to pick up after herself. “Oi, get out the hell out of my kitchen before you ruin shit!”

Camie turns around, already tugging on a bubblegum pink apron that Bakugo definitely does not keep around just for her. She juts out her lower lip. “I'm just trying to help out my favorite next-door neighbor.” She peers over at the bowl of whipped meringue on the kitchen counter. “Macarons, Bakubro? Do you have a death wish or something? Those are like, mad hard to bake, even for you!”

Bakugo resists the urge to thump her on the head. Instead, he settled for aggressively whisking the meringue once more, nearly ripping the appliance in two. “As if I’m going to be shown up by some shitty wannabe sandwiches. Tch.”

“Ehhhh? Is that so?” Camie tip-toes to place her chin on the shoulder that wasn’t vigorously moving with his stirring. Bakugo tries to ignore how close her cheek is to his, the soft plush nearly grazing him. “Well, no doubt they’ll be totally delish when you’re done! Anything I can do to help?”

Bakugo smirks, a cocky grin splitting his face. “Fuck yeah they will be. Go pick out the food coloring.” As Camie sashays away happily (“These are totes gonna be the prettiest macarons bae!”), he tries not to let his eyes linger. It’s like Camie intentionally picks clothes that loves her as much as she loves herself, because they cling to her figure like glue.

Their relationship was… Complicated. After they both graduated high school, her a year before him, Bakugo had no intention of keeping contact with anybody, save for maybe shitty hair. What was the point? He knew he’d see his former idiots of classmates and peers eventually. They all entered the same fucking industry; if anything, he had a feeling he’d them too often. It was only by chance that he and Camie wound up at the same agency, and it was even more of a twisted fate that he had happened to be assigned to live one door down from her. Which meant slowly but surely, Camie Utsushimi forcibly wedged her and her love for K-Pop into his life (and his apartment).

He didn’t know why she was so adamant on getting to know him. At first, he had thought it was just out of the pure convenience of living so close. He figured she would lay off after shutting her out a couple times. But goddamn, this woman was persistent. When she wanted something, she sure as hell knew how to get it. And he still didn’t know what it was she wanted from him. He never knew what she was thinking, for better or for worse.

“You know what’d be lit? If you had edible glitter.” Camie sighs wistfully as she lines up the bottles of food coloring. Bakugo grimaces at the array of pinks and purples but doesn’t say anything.

“What the fuck for?” Bakugo huffs as turned the bowl upside down. A smug expression flits his face when nothing falls out, a testament to the stiff peaks of the frosting.

Camie stares at him as if he had sprouted a tail. “Hell-oh! To decorate the macarons?! Jeez Bakubae, it’s like you have no eye for pretty things in life. No wonder you haven’t asked me out on a date yet.”

Then there was that. There always seemed to be something simmering between them, and it pissed Bakugo off to no end that he couldn’t figure out what the hell it was. Irritation? Sexual tension? Both? He didn’t know when she was serious or joking when she said shit like that.

Bakugo snorts to cover his inner turmoil and sticks his hand out. Camie wordlessly passes him a small bottle of food coloring. Without even looking at the color, his hand steadies as he carefully squeezes the gel into the meringue – bright pink, he discovers. Gross. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“You already know I’m not gonna. Am I not your type?” Camie twirls a strand of her fawn-colored hair around her finger pensively. “You’re gonna die a virgin if you don’t hop on the dating scene, you know. Such a waste of a handsome face.”

“Fuck you.” Bakugo snaps as he stirs to incorporate the color. His grip is tight around the rubber spatula. “As if you have it any better, hag. You should stop hanging around this apartment if you want to put your money where your mouth is.”

Camie sighs contemplatively. “The hero life really doesn’t allow any time for dating, huh? We sure have it rough.” She cracks her knuckles and grins. “Not that we can go on dates or anything during this quarantine. I’m lucky I have you to bother, Bakuboo!”

“Yeah, so lucky.” Bakugo mumbles sarcastically under his breath. “Gimme that bowl.”

“But like seriously, what is your type fam?” Camie asks. Bakugo dumps the dry ingredients and begins to macaronage. “For a while, I totally thought you and Deku were gonna get it on.”

“Fuck no. Weak ass Deku wouldn’t be able to handle me, I’d rock his shit.” Bakugo scoffs. Camie lets out a delighted peal of laughter at that. “Besides, I ain’t gay. Can’t speak for him though.”

Camie raises a brow. “You do know that Deku and Uraraka-san are like, def canon right?”

Bakugo hates how he knows what ‘canon’ means because of her. He grunts. “I don’t give a shit. Hand me that piping bag and a tray, quick.”

“Don’t be like that Bakubae,” Camie chides as she bends over to reach for the baking trays stashed inside his oven. He averts his eyes at the way she juts her hips and arches her back. “You noticed it too, right? All our peers are like, getting it on. I’m banking on Todomomo next.”

Bakugo works quickly to transfer the macaron batter into the piping bag. The bright pink is an eyesore and he frowns. “Like I said, I don’t give a shit.”

“You’re totes gonna care when your options dwindle down to no one.” Camie taps her nails against the counter. “And you’re already picky as it is.”

Bakugo scoffs again as he rips out a sheet of parchment paper. It tears through the air like a record scratch. “How would you know that? I haven’t said shit. For all you know, I could have a secret fetish.”

“Do you?” Camie’s voice heightens with interest. Bakugo glares at her, but the curiosity in her face doesn’t waver.

“No, you sicko. Even if I did, it’s not like I’d tell you.” Bakugo begins to pipe the macarons onto the parchment paper in earnest.

“Everyone has their kinks,” Camie sing-songs. She walks two fingers up Bakugo’s arm and he would smack her arm away if he wasn’t already preoccupied. If each macaron wasn’t exactly 1½-inches, he was going to lose his shit. “It’s only a matter of time until I find out yours, bae.”

Bakugo pipes the last macaron onto the tray and tosses the piping bag. It tumbles away on the counter, smearing pink meringue everywhere. Great. He pretends not to notice her hand still resting on his upper bicep and rolls his eyes. “Good luck with that.”

“I bet you’re really into the whole power dynamics thing.” Bakugo chokes and Camie removes her hand to place both on her hips. “Y’know, all that sub and dom stuff. Kind of a mild kink if you ask me. Personally, I’m down for whatevs but idk, I think I draw the line at tentacles, not that I judge –”

“Yeah well, luckily no one fucking asked.” Bakugo barks as he airs out the bubbles in the batter by repeatedly slamming the baking tray onto the counter. Camie yanks the tray out of his hands and begins to tap the tray much more gently. He scowls and crosses his arms. “You know an awful lot about kinks for someone who doesn’t get laid.”

Camie winks and leans forward. She purposely pushes her cleavage together so that it spills over, her up-and-down ministrations of bumping the tray against the counter making them jiggle. Bakugo stubbornly doesn’t give her the satisfaction of looking down and meets her gaze dead-on. “How do you know I’m not getting laid?”

Bakugo feels an uncomfortable twist in his chest, but the sudden anger that floods him is almost unbearable. Camie? Having a fuck buddy? The thought stamps a hot iron brand of jealousy in his stomach. What the fuck? In an instant, he sees a vision of another pair of arms wrapped around Camie’s tiny waist, kissing her, tousling her hair. A throb of possessiveness goes through him. It’s what makes him snap, “Yeah fucking right. Why the fuck are you here and not with him then?”

“I mean, we are kinda in the middle of a global pandemic.” Camie drawls. She pushes back from the macaron tray. She cocks a head and her eyes rake his face. The tension that normally simmers between them at a tolerable five has knocked its way up to an insufferable ten. “’Sides, even if I had one, I’d rather be here.”

Bakugo deflates but only slightly. The crease between his eyebrows deepen and the feelings of anger, jealousy, and irritation still make him see red. “So you don’t have one.” He says it like a statement of verification rather than a question.

“No,” Camie shakes her head. She sounds a bit breathless. “I don’t.”

In two strides, Bakugo has her pinned against the wall. Camie’s eyes are wide as she takes in his narrowed ones, zeroing in on her like prey. Her arms are locked above her head, held by Bakugo’s, and he leans dangerously close. Their noses graze and Camie barely has a second to register just how long his eyelashes are when their mouths fuse together. Bakugo isn’t gentle but he sure as hell is an amazing kisser – Camie has to hold back a chuckle. He totes has to be the best at everything, huh? He claims it all, tongue sweeping and staking hold of everything that’s hers. She can hear the subliminal message being conveyed. Mine. Mine. Mine. His hands are greedy, falling from her wrists to touching her everywhere, gripping, pulling, pinching. She scrapes her hands along the hard muscle, equally as needy and lets him take and take.

“Bakugo,” Camie finally manages to gasp as he trails down her neck, sucking, biting, kissing. She can feel her skin puckering under his assault. “The macarons –”

“Fuck ‘em.” He grunts. “They need to chill for an hour anyway.”

Sorry Todomomo, Camie thinks to herself as she grins wildly. Looks like Bakucamie’s beat you to the punch.

[tauruscookie]

Day 16 Siegemas: An Unusual Concoction

Before we start, I would like to tell everyone that this is my first time writing for an event like this, and I absolutely suck at writing. 

BUT! 

I'm happy I got to participate in Siegemas! Now, this story took so many turns, both good and bad, and I scrapped so many ideas before finally writing something. And for once, I feel good about this one. Do enjoy it! I had way too much fun writing this one XD! Thank you mods @dualrainbow for giving me the chance to be able to write this. Now, on to the story!

Prompt: 'Wait, did you spike the eggnog?'

—

Listening to the endless carols that played one after the others through the speakers, Bandit stood alone from the others. Studying each face that passed by, he noticed the cheerful and pleasant smiles that grew wider and wider the more each operator socialized with one another. The room was full of a joyful liveliness that couldn't be explained. 

Standing aloof from the others,  Bandit silently drank from his mug in a sense of blissful peace. Drinking the creamy liquid that held traces of both cinnamon and nutmeg, he grimaced at the taste. It wasn't any normal Eggnog he had before. Normally, it was flavored with something strong as in alcohol but in this situation, something different would suffice. And so, Bandit was on the prowl. He carelessly made his way to one of the many dessert tables. And situated in the center of the mountain of sweets was the bowl of Eggnog. 

So many ideas swam around in Bandit's mind as he tried to decipher which one was the best. Eventually, he smirked as he set his mug down before bringing out a small bag from his pocket. Then he stopped as he stared at the bag of cannabis. He wanted to make the day 'enjoyable', and ingesting cannabis will take quite a while. 

Peeking over his shoulder to ensure no one was watching him, he brought out a silver flask bottle before unscrewing the top. Pouring the alcohol into the mixture, he held a devilish smirk. For starters, he was going to add it to his own drink so he could make the night more enjoyable for himself, but maybe he could get the others both drunk and high simultaneously. Oh, it would be fun to watch them slowly lose their mind. 

Dumping the rest of his alcohol into the Eggnog, he poured every last drop of cannabis into the mixture before stirring it up. Once it was combined to the point only the creamy texture was noticeable, he snickered as he held his mug back to his lips. Happily moving away from the table, he made sure all evidence that could lead to the fact that he was 'possibly' there, was cleared. 

And so, he waited at one of the high tables so he could watch his victims line up to take a drink of his peculiar creation. Snickering gleefully at the unfortunate souls who foolishly drank from the mixture, his eyes caught sight of one of the few unfortunate souls who approached the bowl. 

Talking softly to both IQ and Finka, Blitz laughed at a cheeky joke before pouring himself a ladle of the concoction. As both IQ and Finka followed after him, he was close to sipping the liquid when a hand roughly grabbed his arm forcing him to stop midway.

   "Excuse us ladies" Bandit spoke quickly as he pulled Blitz along. 

The German was surprised at Bandit's sudden impulse. It was strange, but he didn't protest against his friend's behavior. Once far enough from the boisterous party, Bandit took his mug before pouring it out into the sink behind the bar counter. 

   "What the hell?!" Blitz cried in shock at Bandit's movement. 

He didn't even hesitate to pour the liquid down the drain. But the music drowned out his elevated voice so no one knew what was happening between the two. 

   "Trust me, you didn't want to drink that" Bandit notified as he gave a cheeky smile before setting the mug down

   "Oh? And how would you know?" Blitz inquired as he raised an eyebrow at his words. Both frustrated but truly intrigued at what got the German so worked up. 

   "Just trust me"

   "I find that very hard to do"

   "Well, today is one of those days where you'll just have to take my word for it" Bandit spoke nonchalantly as he turned around to browse through the choices of drinks behind him. 

As much as he would've loved to watch Blitz act a complete fool IF he drank the concoction, something overcame him and without thinking, he stopped him. Grabbing some ice from one of the ice trays, he dumped some of them into Blitz's mug before pouring a bottle of Schierker Feuerstein. A reddish liquid that held a bitter taste.

   "You were so quick to stop me from drinking the Eggnog, yet you're pouring me some alcohol. Why?" Blitz questioned scanning the drink before him as if searching for traces of poison

   "Just trust me, Elias. You'll want this over what's in that" Bandit explained

   "What's in it? What did you- Wait, Dominic...Did you spike the Eggnog?!" Blitz panicked as he connected the dots. 

Bandit held a sly smirk as he drank the Eggnog before it was altered into something, unusual. And that alone answered Blitz's question. He didn't know whether to laugh or be genuinely scared. If Bandit was the one to spike it, that means it's life-threatening. But he had to have an assailant. There was no way he was working alone. Was he? 

   "Who are you working with?! Max? James?" Blitz questioned hoping he could pinpoint another criminal in this twisted prank

   "Relax...I always work alone in my pranks...sometimes" Bandit smirked as he took another sip of his drink  

   "Well, in that case... are you fucking verrückt?! Do you plan on killing everyone here?!" Blitz shouted in a low voice, almost a violent whisper towards the snickering German

   "Oh relax...it takes an hour for the Cannabis to kick in" Bandit notified waving him off

   "CANNABIS?!" Blitz yelled. 

Luckily, he was saved by the music as it drowned him out. Bandit nearly choked on his drink as he felt laughter bubbling in the pits of his throat. 

   "I can't believe you, Dominic, you seriously just spiked the one drink Gilles took forever to make! He's going to rip you to shreds if he finds out you poisoned it with one of your cheap tricks!" Blitz grumbled with a sigh. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bandit only rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

   "Oh come on! Don't act like you wouldn't have done the same if the idea came to you" Bandit scoffed as his smile slowly began to disappear

   "No, I wouldn't. Because unlike you, I care about people's emotions. And I would never poison the POLICE OFFICERS that work for Rainbow" Blitz explained emphasizing his words deliberately. 

Of course, Bandit knew there were police officers amongst Rainbow. He wasn't naive. But he was an officer himself, and he knew how to fly underneath the radar. It's one of his many talents

   "Oh please, neither Ryad nor Morowa would be able to tell the difference between cocaine or salt. And need I remind you that I too am 'an officer of the law'" Bandit scoffed 

   "A poor one at that. I'm too sober for this" Blitz grimaced as he brought the mug to his lips. 

Drinking the alcohol, he sighed as he set the mug down before rubbing his temples. 

   "Geez, you're so stiff. No wonder people hate the police. You guys are so boring. Ugh, relax Mr. Esel, Cannabis won't kill them. I didn't even add that much. Just half the bag"

   "Half the bag?! Du verdammter Idiot! I'm talking to a psychopath" 

   "And this psychopath just saved you from getting both drunk and high...well, saved you from getting high" Bandit explained gesturing to his drink. 

Pouring more of the alcohol into Blitz's mug, Bandit popped himself a beer since he was finished drinking his Eggnog. Taking a small swig of his beer, he smirked as he began to see his 'cheap trick' unfolding before his very eyes.

   "And the fun, begins" Bandit smirked gesturing towards the swaying Canadian. 

He could tell the effects were kicking in as he saw most operators began to drift from certain conversations. 

   "You are indeed a handful" Blitz sighed turning back to look at his mug

   "Who else is going to be the one who creates the excitement around here? Damn sure none of you nagging stiche. All of you are so boring. Always got a stick up your arsch" Bandit complained rolling his eyes as he took another sip from his beer

   "If I always have a stick up my ass, why didn't you let me drink the Eggnog then?" Blitz questioned staring up at the German. 

As he asked the question, Bandit stopped. Why didn't he? As before, it would be hilarious to watch him act deranged and slur his words. But something told him to spare the other German. Why? Bandit can't begin to answer that question.

   "I-I don't know...guess you wouldn't be no fun high" Bandit answered shrugging his shoulders

   "Oh? So you're saying I'm fun when I'm not high?"

   "Don't push your luck. You're...tolerable" 

   "And how would you know? I could be loads of fun" Blitz smirked propping himself along the counter. 

That sly smirk grew along Bandit's lips as he moved down along the counter. Positioning himself in front of Blitz, he stared into those blue orbs. Quite frankly, he couldn't help but become lost in them. Something about the faint tint of teal and cobalt mesmerized him. 

   "Judging by the way you reacted, you would be a stick in the arsch with or without the drugs" Bandit replied, not breaking eye contact

   "Guess we'll have to find out" Blitz smiled

   "Is this rebellion I sense?"

   "Could be"

   "Oh? And since when has the saint of all things righteous decided to suddenly turn bad? You know, drugs are a sin" Bandit joked as he took a final sip of his beer

   "Who said I'm a saint?"

   "Everyone you hang our around...' the brave and righteous Elias Kötz would never drink, let alone do drugs. He never lets anything harmful tamper with his body'" Bandit mimicked as he spoke in a voice rougher than his own. 

Blitz snickered as a faint smile came to his lips as Bandit tried to mimic a few of their superiors as he explained how fair and virtuous Blitz was. Pulling out a carton of cigarettes, he brought out a lighter as he placed the brownish end of the material in his mouth. Lighting the other end, a small flame appeared as it charred away at the white section of the cigar. 

   "You know, Six did say no smoking inside the building" Blitz added

   "There he is! Mr. Esel is back! Was waiting until you'll finally turn into that jackass of a mother again" Bandit joked before the cigarette was removed from his lips. 

Shocked at the sudden action, he went to protest but Blitz's smirk silenced him. Turning it around, Blitz placed the cigarette against his lips before inhaling a gentle whiff of smoke. He blew a soft puff of the chemical into Bandit's direction with a prideful smirk.

Without coughing or choking on the lack of air, the German continued to hold that prideful smirk which told Bandit he wasn't naive to the idea of a cigarette. Placing it back into Bandit's lips, Blitz's smirk only grew wider as he stood up from the counter. 

   "How's that for a jackass?" Blitz whispered as he leaned against the counter so he was mere inches away from Bandit

   "Who would've thought that Elias Kötz smokes. Never I" Bandit whispered swishing the cigarette around so he could inch closer

   "I'm full of surprises"

   "Indeed you are..." 

   "I hope you have an excuse for Six when she finds out you've done this to her Christmas party." Blitz giggled as he poured himself some more of the Schierker Feuerstein

   "That's only if you tell" 

   "It's not me who's going to tell. People might put two and two together. Cause when things break, you're likely the cause of it. And I won't hesitate to 'persuade them in the right direction'" Blitz smirked as he took a sip from his mug while flashing a playful smirk towards him. One that sent Bandit's heart fluttering to the point he couldn’t stifle a laugh no longer. Sending a wink, he released the cigarette to blow a small puff towards his direction. 

   "By all means...please do so. I enjoy the danger" Bandit grinned

   "Oh trust me, I know you do" Blitz smirked as stared at the German, "You are one crazy man" Blitz giggled

   "And yet, you keep coming back for more” Bandit smiled to which made  Blitz laugh softly. 

Collecting his mug, he turned around before moving through the crowd to socialize with the sober ones. Some already lost it and began talking a feverish nonsense that no one could understand. Bandit didn't even realize he was blushing until he felt the warmth along his cheeks. Blitz was surely different. Removing his cigarette, he smiled as he stared at the end where Blitz's lips made contact. 

 "Maybe this princess has a fun side after all" Bandit snickered as he continued smoking as he watched his whole prank unfold before his very eyes. It was indeed an enjoyable night, and it got even better when karaoke came around. He has never laughed so hard before. 

This wasn't supposed to be this long but somehow...it's longer than expected. Anyways! I hope you enjoyed it! 

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Ancient Soul

Time Travel, Quirkless, Feudal Japan AU

“Your soul does not belong here.” Those were words you never thought that you would hear. Now, thrown into the past in feudal Japan, you must find a way to survive, all while struggling to avoid the growing feelings for one hot-headed war general. War, romance, death and love drive you forward, to find the place where your soul truly belongs.

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Ancient Soul tag. New chapters released every Wednesday as long as schedule permits.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Sex, Death, Depictions of Violence, Alcohol

Chapter 11: Rusty

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing, Alcohol Consumption Words:  2533

“No, just drink the damn thing in one go, you can’t sip on it!” 

Holding your breath, you stared down into the clear liquid in the small wooden cup you held between your fingers. You didn’t hold your breath because you were scared. In fact, the sake was so pungent that you found you needed to keep from breathing it in if you wanted even the slightest chance of swallowing it all in one go. In truth, you were never much fond of alcohol and you very rarely found yourself getting drunk. But now, with Bakugou’s warm company and persuasion, you had agreed to give it a try. Little did you know that it would smell so strongly or that it would already have Bakugou tipsy after just three shots of it. 

After a couple more seconds of prepping yourself, you clenched your eyes shut and downed the liquid, forcing yourself to swallow before your entire body tensed up in disgust of the taste. The burn on the way down was the worst, feeling it through every inch of your esophagus before it hit your stomach. The warmth of the alcohol instantly made your body feel like it was on fire, and as you slammed the small cup back onto the table in front of you, Bakugou’s chuckles finally reached your burning ears. 

“That’s it, Demon! How does that feel?” 

“It tastes and feels awful!” Already feeling your head growing a bit dizzy, you glowered at the blonde man across from you, pout on your lips. He had gone on and on about how amazing and delicious this particular sake was, but now you were unsure if he had just been lying the entire time or if it really was that good to him. 

“Tastes awful?! Are you kidding? This is the best damn sake in town, you can’t get any better!” Bakugou poured another round in his own cup, taking the drink down like a champ. “You must be seriously spoiled wherever you’re from.” 

With a huff, you adjusted your sitting position a bit, starting to feel your legs going numb from sitting on them so formally. “I’m not spoiled, I just don’t drink. You should slow down, you’re already kinda tipsy.” 

“Tipsy? What do you mean, what is that? Whatever it is, I’m fine.” After another shot, Bakugou turned his full attention to his noodle soup before him, shoving a range of noodles and a slice of pork into his mouth. Having already gotten used to his bad eating manners, you ignored the way he slurped the noodles, taking a sip of your hot green tea to try and rid your mouth of the alcohol taste. 

“It means drunk, that the alcohol is starting to affect you. But I suppose you may have a high tolerance if you drink regularly.” Setting your teacup down, you timidly began to stir your soup and noodles with your chopsticks, starting to feel an odd heavy weight on your shoulders. You knew that this meal wasn’t cheap, nor was the many containers of clothes and accessories that sat beside you. In the end, he had basically spoiled you rotten that day, and you just couldn’t figure out why. Maybe now, with the influence of the sake, he would let his true intentions slip. “Bakugou--” 

“Katsuki!” Bakugou corrected you with a scowl and a point of his finger, mouth half full of food. “I told you, call me Katsuki when we aren’t around people!” 

“R-Right, sorry.” Feeling your cheeks flush from the mistake, you kept your head bowed to avoid looking at him. “I just had a question I hoped you would answer…” 

“What?” 

Placing both of your hands in your lap, you fiddled nervously with your nails, taking as inconspicuous of a deep breath as possible. “Why did you want to do all this for me? Taking me into town is one thing, but… All these clothes and food… I’m just wondering why.” 

After slurping more noodles into his mouth, Bakugou used the back of his hand to wipe his lips, placing his chopsticks down next to his bowl. “Because I felt like it. Does that bother you?” 

“N-no… Well, a little. Not in a bad way!” You defended yourself quickly as his eyes narrowed, holding your hands out to try and keep him complacent. “It doesn’t bother me! It just… I guess I just really want to know why.” 

“I told you, I felt like it.” 

“That isn’t a good reason… And it isn’t the truth.” 

You could see Bakugou bite his tongue, obviously shocked at how straight forward you were about this whole situation. That, and you could see right through that ridiculous lie. No one just spent all that money on someone just because they felt like it. But, it wasn’t just the money that had tipped you off on there possibly being something deeper. You could admit, that in the past few years of your life, you had never had such fun in a single day. Bakugou was so easy for you to talk to, to joke with and just… have fun. 

You didn’t expect that kind of comfort out of a man like him, but it was there, and it was undeniable. He had shown you every inch of this town, talking your ear off about this and that, about how his Lord had built all this from the ground up and how proud he was to be a part of it. You kicked muddy water at each other one minute in a moment of agitation, while he placed a hairpin in your hair so gently the next. It was a whirlwind of excitement and emotion, but you didn’t want to get the wrong impression and have your heart lifted just to have it crushed in the end. 

With a heavy sigh, Bakugou leaned back on his arms, his crimson glare locked on the wall over your shoulder. “It’s… because I trust you. And I want you to stay.” 

“Y-you do?” A heat rushed to your cheeks, hot enough to even make your ears burn. “Really?” 

“Of course I do, you idiot.” Bakugou glowered at you, the tips of his ears flushing red, just as yours were. “Do you think I’d tolerate you at all if I didn’t? That I would share my strategies with you and trust you with so many secrets? Or drink sake with you? That makes me vulnerable!” Bakugou sat up straight, tapping his finger against the neck of the sake bottle. “So, yeah, I trust you, you stupid Demon. Even though half the time you make me feel like a fool.” 

The bubbling excitement you had felt at his confession turned sour in your stomach, a small frown crossing your lips. “What do you mean? How do I do that?” 

Grumbling, Bakugou poured himself another shot before drinking it, as if to prep himself for what he was about to have to admit. “It’s bad enough that I have to follow Deku’s commands. That idiot came from nothing and rose to the highest station, faster than I ever could, even when I came from a warrior family! And then there’s you, fixing and changing my strategies to fit whatever damn visions you’re having. It’s like I’ve become nothing but a useless title to yell at people.” 

“Aw Katsuki, that’s not true at all. I don’t want you to feel that way about me. I don’t know anything about war and the planning that goes on behind it, all I can do is tell you what I see. Because I… I want to protect you. You and everyone else. If I can help you win, to help you survive, then I’ll do whatever I can.” You couldn’t control the words that came rolling off your tongue, wanting to do anything and everything you could in that moment to comfort him. “You believe me, right?” 

After a long moment of silence with nothing but a glare scanning your face, Bakugou picked up his chopsticks, tapping the end of them against the wooden table. “There are times that I don’t know what to think of you. The way you talk, the things you say and how… comfortable I am around you. Sometimes it seems unnatural… and it bothers me. But, in the end, I believe you. And I trust you.”

With a nod, you allowed a soft smile to cross your lips, happy to hear those words. “Thank you, Katsuki… Your trust means a lot to me.” 

Only giving a grunt in response, Bakugou went back to eating, though he did pause as you reached over and picked up the sake bottle. “Another one?” 

Holding up your cup, the smile on your face grew as happiness and excitement swelled inside of you. “To our trust!” 

After a moment of confusion, Bakugou poured himself another drink, bringing up his cup and allowing to bump lightly into yours. 

“To our trust. Now… You had better tell me what ‘fuck’ means. I’m not going to let you forget.”

After suffering through your shot of alcohol, you shook your head, giving him a sly smile. “Nope! You’re drunk now! I was only going to tell you when you’re sober. Otherwise you’ll forget.” 

“Fuck... Fine!” 

…

“Don’t drop it, Demon! You’ll wake the whole damn palace up!”

“Shh--! Katsuki, you’re loud!” 

As you fumbled with the door to your quarters, you tried to drunkenly hold two boxes of your newly purchased clothing, trying to slide the door open with elbow. Eventually, with a good push, you got the door to open just enough to slip your leg inside, then your hip, until you were opening the door with your back. Scoffing, Bakugou slid past you to get inside before you could even make the entrance wide enough, though you were too intoxicated to really care. 

“I’m loud?! You should hear yourself.” Having been carrying more boxes than you, Bakugou placed them down in a random corner of the room, before coming back to take yours. Glad to not have the heavy burden in your arms anymore, you gave a relieved sigh, sliding the door back into place with just a small crack to allow light in from the moon. 

“I am not loud. I’m as dainty as a… butterfly.” Hands on your hips, you smiled up at him, not at all perturbed by the scowl on his face. That look that had frightened you so much when you first met him was something so familiar now, with not even a hint of threat. It was so cute to you, in fact, that it was hard to resist the urge to just reach up and pinch his cheeks. You had a feeling he wouldn’t like that, however, so you kept your hands to yourself. “A pretty little fluttering bug.” 

“A bug is right.” Bakugou huffed as he fixed his robes that had gotten displaced while carrying the luggage. “An annoying one that I should squish.” Approaching you, he stopped to stand in front of you, which was something you hadn’t fully expected. In fact, you had thought that maybe he’d just up and leave after helping you. Instead, here he was, glowering down at you with that fierce crimson glare that you had come to adore. He was standing perfectly in the line of light coming from the door, which reflected off his eyes and framed his flawless face with attractive, soft shadows. How badly you wanted to touch him, to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him was nearly suffocating. Yet, you kept control of your drunken mind the best you could, shifting from one foot to another nervously. 

“You wouldn’t do that. You like me too much.” 

“I tolerate you too much.” Bakugou spoke with a corrective tone that you couldn’t help but relate to the way a father corrected a child, which made you giggle in amusement. 

“Okay, okay. But I think that for you, ‘tolerate’ is equivalent to ‘like’. So, you like me too much to want to squish me.” 

“Shut up,” Although his command was short and harsh, you saw a change in his expression, which grew almost… gentle. You had seen this soft expression before, so focused and intent. On what, you weren’t sure, but you had no time to try and figure out what as he spoke again. “Demon… [F/N]... I, uhm…” 

Your heart nearly leaping out of your chest at the sound of your name on his lips, you couldn’t contain your excitement, which exploded freely within your intoxicated mind. Tenderly, you reached forward and took his hand, stepping in closer as you waited for him to continue. At first, his brow furrowed as his fingers wrapped tightly around yours, his lips parted with words dancing on his tongue. 

Then, it was gone. All the softness, the closeness you had experienced in those few moments vanished as Bakugou ripped his hand from yours, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Don’t touch me like that, woman. Who the hell do you think you are?” 

The ice in his voice made you instinctively take a step back, clutching your own hand tightly to your chest. “I-I’m sorry, I just-” 

“Just be quiet. If you think any of this was something more, then you’re an idiot. Go to bed.” Shoving himself past you to reach the door, it slid shut behind him with a loud click, leaving you alone in darkness. As it swallowed you, sadness followed suit, tears welling up in your eyes as you flopped to sit on your futon. 

You were an idiot. How could you possibly even begin to believe that he would have wanted anything more to do with you? You were just something that he could use, and all of this was something to keep you complacent, like a tool that needed the rust removed so it wouldn’t break. 

“Is that really all I’ve come to be?” You whispered through hiccups, wiping away the tears that streamed down your cheeks. You could still feel the heat of his hand wrapped around yours, his hands so calloused and rough from his years of war. It perfectly matched the rest of him, and yet, he had looked at you like you were more than just a rusty tool. His gaze in the moonlight, so soft and full of wanting made you feel like you were a brilliant gem in his eyes. But you weren’t. You were a nobody that came from nothing, from a world so far off and different from this one, where you didn’t even know if anyone remembered you. 

Not even bothering to remove your clothes from the day or undo your hair, you laid down and covered yourself with your thick blanket, sobbing into the fabric. So stupid! I’m so stupid! He could never care about me like that… Ow, that hurts… 

Feeling something stabbing uncomfortably into your scalp, your sadness was temporarily interrupted as you reached up and pulled the object out of your hair, bringing it down into your teary field of vision. One of the hair ornaments Bakugou had gotten you gleamed against the dull light that filled the room, and for a moment, you thought the crimson jewels looked just like his gaze. 

So beautiful and soft. 

So loving. 

Filled with everything you ever wanted, but would never have.

[tiny-smallest]

day one - cake

Rating: G  Characters: Henry, Alice via text Warnings: none Description: Henry acts on a personal belief that birthdays are sacred and tries something new: to bake a cake for Bendy’s second birthday since the studio now that he can afford to do that.

But can he get past his own anxieties at making the perfect cake?

Also on AO3!

----

Birthdays were a big deal.

Most people would agree with that but Henry felt something especially... emotional about birthdays he wasn't sure was normal for other people. There was something about the gesture of celebration for another year of life that was special. Big. Important. Something that deserved attention and very particular care and attention to detail.

He remembered, once, his mother teaching him how to wrap presents- his father's birthday was the next morning and she'd only found the gift she'd wanted for him that day, or something like that. He'd come to see what she was doing in her garden shed so late at night and found her wrapping, and rather than shoo him to bed she smiled at him and asked if he wanted to do a big boy thing, but he'd have to keep a secret.

There were precious few memories of such moments left but he did remember the conspiratorial whispers, the feeling of the heavy paper against his little hands, and the fact that her eyes had been twinkling more than he remembered an image of that fact. She put him back to bed and kissed him goodnight after that.

In hindsight he was pretty sure he'd done an awful job but she didn't say anything about it.

Remembering that incident made the specific emotion he attached to birthdays feel ever more right. Birthdays were important. They celebrated lives- another year here, together, with the people you loved, growing and learning. Birthdays were love.

Everything had to be perfect.

It was with this thought that he rolled up his sleeves to bake his first cake.

Bendy's first birthday after the studio, after everything, was even bigger and more important to acknowledge than any year before, but they were drowning in poverty. Henry was a poor mechanic who made just enough money to live now suddenly with three more mouths to feed and the results were predictably disastrous despite his best efforts. Bendy's birthday passed with Henry out of the house from the crack of dawn until long after the sun had set, their only time for celebration the span of a couple hours after he returned home, where they ate rice for dinner and a tiny cake Henry bought on the way home that he couldn't afford but decided he could eat a little less in the coming days so he could provide it anyway.

But now, the following year, with the toons out in the open and their stage show so wildly successful, it was time to make up for that. For all the years Ben suffered alone in that nightmarish hellscape. For the years before that, as Joey shifted from the fun-loving, goofy caretaker to the monstrous puppetmaster they all knew him to be now.

He could buy a cake. A good cake. He could have his pick of any bakery in Spectrum City, even the fancy ones.

But none of those were good enough.

Henry was going to make Bendy a cake this year.

He kept the cookbook propped open against the wall as he surveyed the ingredients. Dark chocolate, check. Unsalted butter, check. Cocoa powder, milk, eggs, sugar, vanilla extract, cake flower, sugar. Whipping cream. Check, check, infinite checks.

He grabbed the cutting board and laid the block of chocolate on it as he began to dice. It was a little more difficult than dicing vegetables, but not so much. He poured the diced chocolate into a bowl, which he set in a pot of near-boiling water and dumped the butter in after.

It didn't take long to melt but he still found himself watching anxiously. Calm down Henry. It's going to melt. That's how heat works.

Once it was becoming goop he went to stir it and froze.

For a moment the rich, dark brown was the void-black of Ink.

It wasn't until he heard the clatter of the wooden spoon hitting the tiles that he realized he'd dropped it. With a huff of derision he bent down and picked it up, knees screaming at him--that's what he got for spending so much time on his knees yesterday in the garden--and hesitating despite himself before turning lifting his head to look at the glass bowl.

Dark brown. Not black. Not Ink.

He sighed and went to stir before stopping. No, he dropped this on the floor. He had to wash it first. Shit. The chocolate needed to be stirred. If he left it any longer it'd melt unevenly or burn-

He cut the voice in his head off by lifting the bowl from the water. Shit. Shit shit shit. The recipe didn't say what to do if you were an idiot and dropped a spoon and-

He had other spoons.

Cursing himself quiet liberally now, careful to keep his voice quiet, he threw the spoon in the sink and grabbed another from the drawer, setting the bowl back and giving it a good stirring. The lumps smoothed themselves out soon enough. He was lucky he had more than one wooden spoon.

I've cooked a whole Christmas dinner but I'm all wigged out by one little cake? he groaned to himself as he pulled the bowl off to dump the cocoa powder in.

Well I was just as wigged out by the Christmas dinner. And Thanksgiving before it. And-

Ohmygodpleasestop.

He picked up his whisk and stirred the powder into the chocolate. Ben. Ben was the focus of today. Take it off of yourself. Think of your son.

Think of how absolutely fuck wild he's gonna be once he consumes this cake. Oh dear god this is so much chocolate.

The image of his face when he bit into this fudge was enough to make him snicker. Okay, we might need an exorcist, but at least it's gonna be funny before then.

He poured the milk in. Resumed stirring.

Ben should stay occupied with his siblings and friends until this got done. He hoped. Bendy was nothing if not the kind of person to upend any and all plans he came into contact with, knowingly or unknowingly. Alice and Boris were tasked with keeping him busy all day and he grinned at knowing what lengths they might've resorted to in order to keep his attention without attracting his suspicion. As long as it didn't involve property damage, it was all good.

But it'd probably involve pie. A lot of lemon meringue. Maybe a few dares and taunts. Definitely some very loud sound effects. Henry imagined if they ventured into non-toon areas that the humans would send him complaints about bike horns and car honks. Some would be about the noise. Others would be about what the noises meant.

Eggs. He set the whisk down and grabbed the carton of eggs, moving to another bowl and getting out the item that would help him separate the whites from the yolks. He set it up and cracked an egg into it, watching the whites drip through.

Hah. As if the fact that the language was censored via the noises meant nothing. Some people just lived to clutch their pearls. It was always the ones who didn't know how to have fun once in awhile.

But today was all about Bendy's fun, and Henry would have a few, choice, uncensored words if anyone actually ruined that, thank you very much.

Yolks and whites separated. He added the required amounts of sugar and vanilla extract into the bowl with the yolks and dumped them all into the chocolate batter, attacking it with his whisk.

It was too quiet. He pulled out his phone, dialed the volume up, picked music. "Nobody's home to bother with it," he said. His voice sounded strange in the empty kitchen, and maybe a bit uncomfortable, but he wasn't alone. "Well, I'm alone right now, but I'm not alone-alone."

Not anymore.

He returned to the whisk.

"This is good. This is going well. It's going to go just fine, and he's going to love it. I picked out red striped candles and I'm going to have to restrain myself from adding thirty of them as a joke because I don't know exactly what's going on with his aging but he's definitely not thirty and I don't want to waste all those candles even if watching him pout would be funny."

Silence.

"Also it means we'd have to pick them off the cake before anybody got any and that part wouldn't be very fun."

He'd stirred this long enough, right? Probably. He looked at the cookbook and felt a trill of panic run through him. Where was he again-!

Oh, right, there. "Cake flour."

Cake flour added, shaken through the strainer. "To get lumps out," Henry guessed as he scraped the bottom of the strainer with a clean spatula. He stirred the flour in.

"Okay. Egg whites next," he said as he grabbed the mixer. There was going to be so much shit to clean up. This wasn't even counting his birthday dinner-

Oh wait they were going out to eat for that. "Wonder what place he picked," he murmured as he turned the whisk on, watching the egg whites turn from clear to a sort of... yellow with bubbles in it.

"Is... is that right?"

You have no idea what you're doing. You're never going to make it as magical as you should; you never did, not with any of them, not with Harry or Sammy or Joey or the toons before Joey kicked-

"Shut up," he mumbled as he set the mixer down carefully near the sink and consulted the book so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. Okay. That was right. He added the sugar next.

The rest of this process was something of autopilot. Add some sugar, mixer. Add sugar, mixer. He stopped when all the sugar was added and the egg whites now looked like light and fluffy icing, which was the point of this whole thing.

He almost said 'I did it' and stopped. No, that was just asking for something to go wrong. Reel that thought in until later, when he was actually done.

He scooped the meringue into the bowl in two installments and mixed them carefully in. "There's something kind of nice in mixing. Something... methodical. Comforting. I kind of like this," he mused as he poured the batter into the paper-lined baking tin. "I'll like it more once I know I'm doing this right, though."

Oh no, now there was nothing to do but wait until it was done, huh. He set three timers before he was anywhere near satisfied and left the kitchen.

This was the worst part, he decided later when he dropped the pen he was doodling aimlessly with and ran for the oven. He discovered that was wrong when he realized he had yet more waiting to do, because it needed to be cooled and then chilled.

He checked his phone after putting the cake in the refrigerator. Still no texts. Was that a good thing? "Both of them would text me if something went wrong. One of them would remember- oh but if they've resorted to pie throwing maybe not..." Meringue and electronics didn't mix well.

Meringue. Mix. Hah.

He returned to the living room to doodle after setting another timer for twenty minutes. That should be long enough right?

It took way longer for this step than he would've liked but once it was done the last part was mercifully simple. Just take the last of the chocolate, melt it in a glass container with some whipping cream in the microwave, and pour it over.

His phone buzzed. His heart nearly leapt out of his throat as he pawed for it, nearly dropped the glass.

It was Alice.

I'd like to inform you Bendy is no longer the Great Pie Conqueror.

Henry snorted so hard he almost choked as his heart settled. He poured the chocolate over the cake as he typed with one thumb.

Will a cake console the dear general?

He may be too far gone. Give it to me instead. c:

Absolutely not, angel. :I

Worth a try.

It's not like you won't get some! That's how birthdays work.

This is true. But if your baking is half as good as your cooking, can you really blame me for wanting the whole thing?

His face went hot. You flatter me. ^^; 

You know me. I don't like liars.

A memory so sharp in its intensity it could cut him in two almost split the happy scene, but the phone buzzing against his hand pulled him back.

Also we're on our way home so soon I get to tell you in person over and over, until you die.

It took a moment before he realized the weak chuckle in the room was his. No fair. That's going to turn into a three v one and you know it.

Then I suppose you'll just have to admit defeat, won't you. :p

You're lucky I can't pull magic pies from nowhere.

Pieing me for speaking truth! I thought fathers were supposed to set a good example!  Oh the humanity!  Won't someone please think of the children!

Okay okay, stop buzzing my phone repeatedly you devil in disguise. Come get a taste of this cake.

I just want to say first: Thank you. For all of this.

Henry paused.

I mean it. It means a lot to us. It means a lot to him already, and he doesn't even know you spent the last several hours personally baking his cake for him. Even if this cake is a total disaster, it's going to mean the world to him. To us. Thank you, Daddy.

He bit his lip, tapped his foot against the floor, and glanced away. Shaking thumbs returned a message, the only thing rattling around in his head.

I love you.

Maybe perfect wasn’t in the outcome of the cake, after all.

Phone buzz. He checked it through the blur of his tears.

Also we’re covered in pie goo who wants a hug.

... You know what I change my mind I’m eating this whole cake myself.

[yastaghr]

Grey 15

Another chapter of Grey coming right at you! This time with added sarcasm.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16555439/chapters/38788544

Stretch squinted his eye sockets in an attempt to read the teeny handwriting on Honey’s plans. Honestly, who wrote that small? It was impossible to read! How was he expected to make any progress on this machine if he couldn’t read the fucking plans?

“You’ve got that capacitor in the wrong spot, stupid. If you turn the machine on you’re going to fry yourself.”

Stretch dropped the soldering gun, accidentally burnt his hand, swore, and spun around - all in about the space of a second. There, sitting behind him and yawning, was the creature that haunted his nightmares. Temmie looked a little different, but not by much. Instead of the yellow and green striped shirt he was used to this Temmie wore one that was blue and purple. Also, their tail was longer and thinner than the one he knew back home. But the jaw hinged in the same terrifying place: all the way back at the base of the neck. Hundreds of sharp teeth gleamed at him. He could even see some chunks of bloody meat from Temmie’s last meal.

“Wow, you’re twitchy. I haven’t even done anything yet,” the creature said.

Stretch shuddered. His memory replayed for him perfectly all the things that his Temmie had done to him. “you don’t need to. i’ve got a pretty good imagination.”

“You don’t need one, though, do you? I can see your LV. You’re crueler than I am to somebody, and it isn’t your human,” Temmie said accurately. Stretch stiffened. He hadn’t told anyone that here. Why did Temmie know? “If I had to guess I’d say it was your brother. The way you’re obsessed with getting back to him is a little more than just the emotions of a brother. Your rage problems definitely go hand in hand. Oh, don’t give me that look. I’ve been exploring this world and its inhabitants for centuries worth of RESETs. I know how to read a face better than any of these idiots.”

Stretch didn’t give them the satisfaction of doing what they wanted. Instead, he kept up his facade. He let a few tears fall down out of his sockets. Stupid Stretch would definitely be scared and saddened by what Temmie had said. “I- I don’t know w-w-what you mean!”

Temmie laughed. It was the kind of laughter that could haunt your nightmares. “Oh, yes, I can read you. You don’t like that, do you? You’re used to being the one in control, but here you’re not. I can see the frustration building in you. I wonder what will happen when that bubble of yours pops? Who are you going to take all that anger on, hmm? I can’t wait to find out. Just one piece of advice: Honey will remember RESETs, but Berry won’t.”

Stretch sniffled, still clinging to his disguise even as he grew that much more furious. “I’m… I’m not…”

Temmie shrugged. “You can pretend all you want, but you can’t fool me. Chara will be out of the Ruins tomorrow. They’ve mostly done neutral runs. They like to kill Taz for being so patronizing towards them and trying to keep them from leaving. I have no doubt that that’s what they’ll do this time. Honey usually is too busy grieving to notice much else. Just, please, do your worst in a room where I can see. I’m getting bored of living through the same things happening over and over and over again.”

Stretch’s anger grew. Oh, he knew who he was taking his anger out on, alright. Blue could wait. He had two interlopers on his territory who needed to pay. He could already picture what he was going to do to them. The thing that he couldn’t decide on was whether to let Berry find them and suffer, or make him watch, or hurt him, too.

Stretch said, “That sounds-”

“Oh, please, don’t bother. We both know it’s an act. Just let me leave so you can get back to work frying yourself with this machine.”

Stretch opened his mouth to protest, but Temmie was out of the room before he could gather the breath to speak. He stared after them, went up the stairs and closed the door to the basement behind them, and then went back to work on the machine. He would wait until he saw little Mx. Chara himself before he went through with his plan. After all, he didn’t want Honey to find out, now did he?

=====

Blue woke up well before the first light came through the windows. It wasn’t all that odd for him to do so. It was the only time he could get his shopping done. Most stores opened early, and it was expected that rulebreakers would shop before everyone else had woken up. Blue had been thrown out of shops later in the day, just because of his past. He always felt sorry for the cashiers in those early hours. Most of them were rulebreakers like him, though, so he could at least be glad they had managed to find work.

This morning he wasn’t waking up to do the shopping. He hadn’t had to worry about that ever since he was brought to this world. He wasn’t trying to catch Edge before he snuck out of the house, either. No, Blue woke up early because he wanted to thank Edge and Red for letting him sleep in their house. He would gladly cook for them.

Blue started by surveying the pantry. There were more things in it than he kept in his own house! He was used to making do with the bare essentials in order to save money, but now he was faced with a huge variety. Most of this stuff he wouldn’t know how to cook with, but some of it appealed. The inspiration came when he saw the waffle iron in the bottom of the cupboard. He loved waffles, and it had been a long time since he had made them. He grabbed some flour, sugar, butter, baking powder, salt, and vanilla extract. From the fridge he grabbed eggs, milk, and blueberries. He loved blueberries, and, at least back home, they weren’t too expensive. He didn’t want to break Red and Edge’s budget by using ingredients that would cost too much to replace.

Then Blue moved on to preparing the dry mix. In a large bowl, he mixed together the flour, salt, baking powder and sugar; then he set it aside. While he was doing this he preheated the waffle iron. In a separate bowl, he stirred in the milk, butter and vanilla. That was the wet mix. He poured the wet mix into the dry and stirred them together. Then he beat the eggs until they were fluffy and white and folded them into the rest of the batter. From there, he began to cook the waffles in the buttered waffle iron, sprinkling the blueberries into the mix to taste.

The smell must have drifted up the stairs to the brothers’ bedroom, because, just as he was finishing up the first waffle, Red and Edge came down the stairs. They were positively intertwined; Red’s arm was around Edge’s back and Edge’ hand was on Red’s shoulder, fingering the collar around his neck. Blue smiled up at them. They were absolutely adorable together.

They were also surprised. Edge was blinking fast and his jaw was lax. It wasn’t quite hanging open, but it was close. Red’s, however, was hanging open. He closed it and, eyes sparkling, growled, “making yourself really at home here, aren't cha?”

Blue shivered. He didn’t like it when people were mad at him, and Red sounded mad. His eye lights were confusing him, though. They looked so… happy? If Blue ignored the rest of his face, he almost would have guessed that Red was laughing. That didn’t mean much to him, though. Stretch sometimes looked like that when he was hurting Blue. “I JUST WANTED TO MAKE YOU SOMETHING TO EAT AS THANKS FOR BEING SO NICE TO ME. I CAN PAY YOU BACK FOR THE INGREDIENTS. I-”

“BLUE,” Edge said calmly, concern and amusement warring in his eyes, “RED WAS JOKING. YOU DON’T HAVE TO PAY US BACK.”

“OH,” Blue said, looking up at Red. The other was smiling and nodding.

“boss is right, blue. i’m sorry for scaring you. i was just teasing you. this is a good surprise. are those blueberries in the batter?”

Thankful for the distraction, Blue nodded. “I SAW THEM IN THE FRIDGE AND THOUGHT THEY WOULD BE TASTY. I CAN ALSO MAKE PLAIN ONES IF THAT’S WHAT YOU WOULD PREFER.”

Red salivated. “blueberries sound great! chocolate would be better, but we’re out right now. i should know. i ate the last of it!”

Edge chuckled. He had gone over to another cupboard and was pulling out plates and cups. “I KNEW THAT WAS YOU, RED. FELLDYNE HATES CHOCOLATE. HONESTLY, IF YOU WANTED A SCAPEGOAT THEN ANYONE WOULD BE BETTER THAN HER. EVEN ME! NOW, BLUE, WHY DON’T YOU MAKE A FEW MORE? AT LEAST THREE; RED IS A GLUTTON FOR BLUEBERRIES. A FEW MORE WOULD BE BEST. WE CAN FREEZE THE ONES WE DON’T EAT. WE CAN HELP YOU IF YOU WANT.”

It was Blue’s turn to blink. He wasn’t used to having help. Maybe… “COULD YOU HANDLE THE DRINKS? YOUR CABINETS ARE A BIT TALL FOR ME TO BE ABLE TO POUR ON.”

Red laughed. It wasn’t a mean spirited laugh. It was the kind of laugh that invites others to join in. “heh. you could say you need a little bit of a leg up. legs get you a stool, before you’re on your last legs.”

“RED-” Edge began to say, but Blue’s laughter interrupted him.

“MWEH HEH HEH!” Blue giggled. He instantly slapped his hands over his mouth. Stretch hated when he laughed like that.

Apparently Edge and Red didn’t share that opinion. Red was grinning like he’d won the lottery, and Edge… Edge was blushing like mad, his face lit up a deep maroon.

“heh, see, boss? someone appreciates my jokes. now, egg-scuse me while I start on some fried eggs. protein would be good, seeing as we’re taking you to see felldyne today,” Red said casually. Blue smiled. He was looking forward to seeing Felldyne again. Maybe she would remember him? The thought fueled his big smile as he finished cooking the waffles, the happy sounds of puns and groans wrapping him in safety.

[artificialqueens]

Undone, Chapter 22 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 22 of UNDONE, our slow burn Bitney lesbian AU. Here’s a link to the previous chapters. And here’s some art inspired by the story (by people for whom I would happily give up a kidney!).  

Summary: Things are progressing: Bianca’s divorce, her pregnancy, and her relationship with Courtney. Bonus: a little redemption moment for Willam.

Beta’d by the wonderful @jimvssherlock and guardian angel @missdandee <3

TW: Refereces to emotional abuse, PTSD

***

“Hey!” Courtney looks up from the stove, where she’s got several saucepans simmering.

Bianca should have known - she’d briefly mentioned having a craving for spaghetti and meatballs that afternoon. So of course, here’s her fairy godmother, catering to her every whim. Courtney dumps a colander of cooked spaghetti back into the pot and begins to ladle in the sauce.

Bianca watches her, greeting the dogs and shifting on her aching feet.

“That smells heavenly.”

Courtney giggles a bit, trying not to smile idiotically at the praise, hoping it will live up to Bianca’s seemingly high expectations.

“I’m using pre-made meatballs,” she says, feeling the need to temper those expectations a bit. “Because...you know. Meat juice.”

“Totally fair.”

“But the guy in Whole Foods promised me they’re really good.”

“I’m sure they’ll be great. What can I do to help?”

“Um...I think everything’s pretty much done.” Courtney smiles at her, giving the pasta a vigorous stir. “Just relax.”

Bianca doesn’t argue, sitting down heavily and taking a sip from her water glass. There’s a bowl of caesar salad, a basket of garlic bread, and a tray of roasted broccolini. She definitely doesn’t deserve to be spoiled like this. If she wasn’t ravenous, she’d probably object.

“So…” Courtney begins, dishing out some hearty portions. “How was therapy?”

“Well…she seemed cool. She said to call her Bob, which is weird, but I like her. She laughed at my jokes, so that was nice.”

Courtney glances back at her, eyebrow raised a bit, before turning back to the stove to finish plating.

“Alright…” She carries the plates over to the table and sets them down.

Bianca bites her lip. She’s pretty aware that making her therapist laugh isn’t the goal. But the whole thing just felt so awkward--she couldn’t help herself. She picks up the little dish of grated cheese and douses her spaghetti with it.

“I know I’m probably doing it all wrong.”

“Doing what all wrong?” Courtney asks.

“Therapy.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, B.”

“I saw your face,” Bianca tells her. “Don’t act like you weren’t thinking it.”

“Well...I mean, yes, I think you probably have a different approach than I would. But...that’s your journey,“ she shrugs.

Bianca rolls her eyes.

“Can you not be perfect for like...three seconds?”

“I’ll do my best,” Courtney preens, with fluttering lashes and a sassy wink.

Bianca laughs and takes a huge bite.

“Oh my god,” she says, words muffled by her mouth full of food.

“Is it good?” Courtney asks hopefully, taking a delicate bite from her own plate.

“So good. I could cry. I wish you could taste it.”

“I’m okay with my veggie sausage,” she says, “But I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s fucking delicious,” Bianca manages to say, once she’s swallowed.

Courtney beams at her.

“But think how good it would be if you made the meatballs yourself. Lazy.”

Courtney scrunches up her face. She throws a piece of garlic bread across the table and Bianca ducks, cackling.

***

Asia’s tone is uncharacteristically warm as she goes slowly through the divorce petition with Bianca, making sure for the third time that everything in there is accurate. Bianca nods along, initialing where she’s supposed to, signing where directed, but her mind is elsewhere, spinning in unproductive circles.

After the last signature, Asia takes the sheath of papers from her, saying, “Last chance to change your mind.”

Bianca shakes her head.

“I’m not changing my mind.”

“Are you okay? This part is tough for people, so-”

“Yeah, I’m...I’m glad we’re moving forward, I just...there’s something I should probably have told you sooner.” Bianca bites her lip, the sharp pain keeping her grounded in the moment when all she really wants is to tune it all out.

“Alright.” Asia folds her hands, waiting.

“Um...I’m pregnant.”

Asia nods slowly, the only sign of surprise one slightly raised eyebrow.

“How far along are you?”

“A little over seven weeks.”

“Are you gonna keep it?” Asia asks, face impassive.

“Yes!” Bianca exclaims, following up with a softer, “...yes.”

Asia leans back in her chair, letting out a long sigh, nodding.

“This complicates things. You know that.”

“I do.”

“Alright.” Asia sits up straight, clicks her tongue and makes a note on her pad. Back to business. “We don’t need to change anything in the filing. We can tell them when we’re negotiating. If it’s still relevant.”

Bianca opens her mouth, horrified, a hand going automatically to her abdomen. Asia’s face softens, eyes flicking over to a framed photo of a beautiful little girl for less than a moment, then back to Bianca.

“I’m just saying...shit happens. No use bringing it up until you’re...out of the danger zone.”

Bianca nods, a sick feeling creeping into her stomach. Will she ever be out of the danger zone? She looks out the window, blinking back tears and trying her best to breathe evenly.

“Go home,” Asia tells her. “Try not to think about it. We’ll serve in the morning and I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from his lawyer.”

“Thanks, Asia.”

***

Courtney emerges from the fitting room, twirling in the full-skirted dress that she knows Bianca’s been working on all week.

“Well?” She strikes a pose.

“It’s perfect,” Bianca grins, taking the polaroid. “Come here.”

“Yeah?” Courtney sashays forward slowly, a coy sparkle in her eye.

Bianca waits for her to get close, close enough to see the faint freckles across her nose, to feel the heat radiating off her skin, before she holds up the lint brush.

Glancing down at it, an airy little giggle bubbles up out of Courtney’s chest, releasing some of the tension in the room. Bianca begins to roll the brush over the velvet fabric, lifting up one of Courtney’s arms by the wrist.

“Be gentle,” Courtney teases, and Bianca slows down.

“This good?” Bianca’s voice is a whisper.

Courtney nods, swallowing. She lets Bianca work, pliant as a doll, spinning with the softest nudge. Her heart beats rapidly as the roller runs over her back and shoulders. Bianca puts down the roller, smoothing the fabric with her hands.

“Okay...I think you’re good,” Bianca says softly, eyes catching Courtney’s in the mirror.

“Thanks.” Before she opens the trailer door, she turns back with a big smile on her face and suggests, “Rebel Wilson Del Rio?”

“Get out of here,” Bianca says, her amusement betrayed by the dimples that she fails to suppress.  

As the screen door shuts, Bianca can still hear Courtney’s laughter floating through the air.

***

“Hey Court, do you want to-” Bianca stops, leaning on the door frame, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing.

Courtney is in the middle of the room, airpods in, rocking out to some music that only she can hear. Without the accompanying audio, she looks possessed, gyrating like a madwoman. Bianca manages to catch almost 30 seconds of this bizarre show, dimples getting deeper and deeper, before Courtney spots her, gasping in surprise.

“Oh my god!” Courtney pulls out one of her airpods, breathing hard. There’s a light sheen of sweat on her forehead, “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” Bianca isn’t the least bit sorry. She’s wildly entertained, in fact. “Why the silent disco?”

“I was trying to keep it down...”

“You know, you’re allowed to play music in your own house.”

“I know, but…you were working.” Courtney offers a little shrug, and Bianca can’t help the overwhelming affection that floods through her.

“Thanks. Well...regardless, it was quite a show.”

“Oh yeah?” Courtney poses, hand on her hip, “You liked it?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she teases, grinning at Courtney’s look of feigned offense.

“Maybe next time you’ll join in.”

“Unlikely.”

“Mm...I’ll take that as a challenge,” Courtney laughs, eyes crinkling.

***

Bianca sits on the sofa in Bob’s office, fingers twisting a tissue in her hand. She doesn’t like the question that’s being posed to her, doesn’t know what to say. Bob repeats it, slightly differently, hoping for a response.

“Why do you think you can’t you say the word?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“How does it make you feel when I say it?” she asks.

“Um...ashamed. Like, how did I let it happen for so long? But also, kind of pissed...I don’t want to be a victim.”

“Well, you’re not a victim. You know, most people-” Bob pauses, adding, “-most women...they don’t leave. They stay. You left. You’re already well on your way towards starting a new life. You’re not a victim. You’re a survivor.”

Bianca nods, not quite believing her. There’s a familiar tingling in her fingers and toes, and she flexes her hands, shifting on the sofa, trying to get more comfortable.

“What’s going through your mind?”

Bianca bites her lip. It’s very unlike her to be at a loss for words, but that’s how she feels more often than not in this setting. There’s so much pressure to understand, to carefully deconstruct her thoughts in a way that she’s not accustomed. Usually, she speaks first and thinks later. That doesn’t work in here.

“I get what you mean...but I did stay. For over twelve years. That’s...we didn’t even get married until almost two years ago, we had no kids, nothing was keeping me. And now…” Her voice breaks. She pauses, gulping down some of her water.

Bob waits patiently, hands folded and head tilted. The picture of empathy. Bianca hates it; nothing makes her feel more broken inside than being looked at like that.

“What the fuck is wrong with me? Why did I stay?” Tears brim in her eyes.

“Why are you so determined to blame yourself?”

“Because I...wasn’t a prisoner. I could have left, anytime-”

“Really?”

“Uh, yeah.” Bianca’s brow furrows in confusion.

“There’s more than one kind of prison, Bianca. Emotional abuse...it’s very tricky. It’s seduction and manipulation and torture all at the same time. The entire goal is to make you feel like you can’t trust your own reality. That you are, in fact, the one in charge, the one doing the manipulating. It is...it’s a waking nightmare.”

Bianca nods again, still feeling that burning shame coursing through her.

“And you woke up. The hardest part is behind you. I promise.”

“I don’t…” Bianca shakes her head. “I don’t believe you.”

“Okay...fair enough. I guess time will tell, huh?”

Bianca laughs through her tears.

“I guess so.”

***

“Dear god…” Bianca looks down at the shopping cart, nearly full to the brim, as she follows Courtney through the aisles of Whole Foods.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just...so much! Why are you letting me buy all this?!”

“You think I’m gonna tell you that you can’t have something?” Courtney laughs.

“There are 5 different kinds of cheese in here!”

“You like cheese,” Courtney reasons, leaning over the back of the cart, placing a loaf of whole grain bread in the bag.

“I know, but you’re supposed to stop me!” Bianca exclaims.

“Yeah? What should I say? ‘I’m sorry, Ms. Del Rio, but we’ve hit the cheese quota today, you’ll have to put that back…’”

“No, just…” Bianca groans. “Remind me that I’m getting fat.”

Courtney folds her arms, a look of disapproval on her face.

“Excuse you-”

“Come on, seriously, I’m not supposed to be gaining this much, this early, I look like-”

Bianca’s cut off by a hand on her shoulder. Courtney’s walked around the cart and now staring her square in the face.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I am not-”

“Are so,” Courtney insists, voice soft and firm. “You’re beautiful, and you’re creating life. Say it. ‘I am beautiful and I am creating life-’”

“No,” Bianca answers, struggling to keep the smile from pulling at her mouth.

Courtney steps closer.

“Say it.” Her voice is practically a growl now.

“I...am beautiful and I am creating life.” Bianca manages to squeeze an eye roll in as well, which Courtney chooses to ignore, lips pursed in a self-satisfied smirk.

“Good girl,” she breathes, giving Bianca a pat on the ass before turning and flouncing back through the bakery, holding up a plastic package, asking sweetly, “Muffins?”

***

ALASKA: Hey, B. Willam told me that you and Jared are splitting up. I hope you’re okay. I think I might be able to help. Call me anytime if you want to discuss. <3

Bianca stares at her phone, unsure of what to do. After all, she hasn’t spoken to Alaska since that fateful night of the barbecue. And what if it’s some kind of trap...Jared standing over her shoulder, just waiting for the return call, or listening in?

She shakes her head. There’s a possibility that Willam would be involved in something devious like that, but not Alaska. Nonetheless, she doesn’t call right away. She stresses about it for a few hours first before finally settling down at her sewing table to dial, heart in her throat.

“Hey, I’m glad you called. How are you?”

Alaska’s voice is so gentle, so filled with warmth, that Bianca feels a twinge of guilt for doubting her intentions.

“Hi. Sorry for the delay, I’m at work, and-”

“No worries! I’m working too, so...I won’t keep you long, I promise. I just wanted to let you know that...Willam told me that Jared’s been saying some kind of troubling things at work, and he’s 100% willing to make a statement about it, or like, talk to your lawyer. If you want.”

“What kind of things?” Bianca can feel her heart speed up, her cheeks getting hot.

“Um…things like ‘this isn’t over’ and ‘I’ll show her’ and…” Alaska sighs, “I guess it doesn’t sound that bad, but like...I dunno, it made Will uncomfortable, and he’s pretty laid back. Maybe it was more like...the demeanor? You can totally talk to him directly if you want, but I thought it would be better if I reached out first. You know...girl to girl.”

“I really appreciate that...but...why? I mean...thank you but, why would he do this? Jared is his boss, his boy, I-” Bianca sniffles.

“Well...yeah, but. I mean, he likes you. And he’s pretty disturbed by some of the things Jared says to him, so…”

“God. I’m such an idiot.” Bianca wipes her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“When I first met you, I felt sorry for you. I thought that Willam was this giant douchebag, and didn’t understand what you saw in him, and...” Bianca trails off.

“Look, I get it. Willam’s a dumbass sometimes,” Alaska says with a chuckle. “But...he’s a good person. And he just wants to help, if he can. We both do.”

“Thank you, Alaska. Really, I...thank you.”

“Anytime. Take care, B.”

***

“...and so, obviously I’m glad he’s listening, but...I don’t know, it’s a little weird that he’s gone so...radio silent, you know? It makes me a little...anxious. I guess. Especially after what Alaska said.” Bianca hugs the pillow in her lap.

“That’s understandable,” Bob says. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I thought that’s what I was paying you for,” Bianca says, eyebrow arching up.  

Bob laughs. “That was rhetorical, but thanks for keeping me in line.”

“What’s your question?”

“Do you miss him?”

Bianca is a bit taken aback. They’ve spent the last month discussing how horrible her marriage was. She still has to choke back vomit every time she says the word ‘abuse.’ Does she miss him? Is Bob crazy?

“It’s very common,” Bob explained, seeing the confused and slightly horrified look on her face. “A lot of women have trouble adjusting to life outside of that dynamic. They convince themselves that it wasn’t that bad. Many even go back. Does any of that sound...familiar?”

Just outside the window, a pair of fluffy white clouds float lazily in the air. They’re so white and perfect, they look like a cartoon. Bianca watches them, listens to the birds chirping and the not too distant sound of kids splashing in a pool...a lawnmower. She turns back to Bob, shaking her head.

“No. Not...not at all.”

“Okay.” Bob makes a note on her pad, and Bianca grows a little antsy in her seat.

“Is that weird? I feel like...sometimes it feels like it wasn’t even real. Like...how was that over 10 years of my life? Because...I barely remember it now, unless I really concentrate. And even then…”

“It’s not weird. It’s just another way of coping.”

“Right now I’m having a hard time even...picturing his face clearly. I...definitely don’t want to go back. The idea of being in the same room together is…” Bianca swallows.

“But you’re having a child together.”

Bianca closes her eyes. “Yeah. He still...doesn’t know about that.”

“Does that worry you?”

“Um...I don’t...yeah, a little. But I think that he’ll...he might be a decent father. He really wants to be, so…” Bianca dabs at the corner of her eyes. “Asia said that we can ask for a therapeutic mediator, so that we can work out all our bullshit on our own.”

“You’ll have to be in the same room for that.”

“I know.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Nervous. But...I just keep telling myself that all of this is for the baby. So...it’s worth it. I can do it.”

“Of course you can,” Bob nods, giving her an encouraging smile.

“Do you think...will it ever be easy? Will I ever be able to face him without...feeling sick?”

Bob tilts her head, pausing thoughtfully before responding.

“If you really work at it, anything is possible.”

“Wow. Way to not commit to an answer, Bob,” Bianca says, getting a spirited laugh in return.

“That might be a good place to end for today,” she says, gesturing to the clock. “I’ll work on a more committed answer.”

“Yeah, do that.” Bianca’s dimples pierce her cheeks as she rises from the couch.

“See you next week?” Bob gets up from her chair and follows her to the door.

“Yeah,” Bianca says, then adds a soft, “Thanks.”

Bob smiles, reaching for the door, pausing when Bianca misunderstands the action and gives her an awkward fist bump.

“Well, alright then,” Bob says kindly, as Bianca cringes. “See you soon.”

***

“So...what are we looking for?” Courtney asks.

Bianca stands in the middle of Third Street, eyes darting around the bustling shopping center. She’s aware that this is the last place that Courtney would normally go willingly--the bougiest part of Santa Monica, full of tourists and ladies who lunch and harried, put upon retail employees. But she’s determined to find something special for Latrice, something she can give her on the morning of her wedding. She feels like she’s really dropped the ball as far as Maids of Honor go, barely helping with anything at all.

“I...don’t know, exactly. I just want her to know that I…” Bianca’s eyes fill with those cursed hormonal tears.

“Alright. Maybe…we just wander?” Courtney smiles at her and puts a reassuring hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards a jewelry cart up the road. “That cart looks cute, let’s start there.”

It could be the late summer heat, but Bianca feels like her skin is nearly burning where Courtney’s touching her. Especially at the hem of her shirt, where one fingertip is in contact with Bianca’s skin. She tries to stand up straight, muscles flexing against Courtney’s hand, a feeling of indescribable loss when she takes it away. Which is almost immediately followed by euphoric joy moments later when Courtney grasps her hand and lets out a squeal of excitement.

“Omigod, B, look!” she cries, pulling her towards a shoe store window, where a tiny pair of glittery rainbow cowboy boots are on display. “Elle Macpherson Del Rio NEEDS those boots!”

Bianca laughs and follows her to the window, seeing her eyes lit up in the reflection.

“Very cute.”

“Sorry, I know this is like, an immediate deviation from your agenda, but...they are bloody fantastic. Right? Even if you didn’t want a baby it would be worth it to have one, just to get those.”

Bianca continues to chuckle, gripping Courtney’s hand tightly.

“So...I guess we’re hoping for a girl, then?”

“No, not necessarily.” Off Bianca’s raised eyebrow, she adds, “Well, why should girls have all the fun clothes?! Guy Pierce Del Rio can totally wear them too.”

“Hashtag equality?”

“Exactly.” Courtney flashes a dazzling grin and pulls her into the store. “Come on!”

Bianca continues to hold onto Courtney’s hand as she follows her into the store. It occurs to her that standing this way, fingers laced together, people will probably assume that they’re a couple. The thought fills her with nervous, fluttery excitement - the kind that she hasn’t felt for what seems like the longest time.

As Courtney chats casually with the sales clerk about the best size to buy, Bianca steps closer, wrapping her free hand around her arm and leaning a head on her shoulder. It might be slightly childish, but she wants no mistake in anyone’s mind.  

Mine.

[megwritesfanfiction]

Point of Balance (Kacchako, Chapter 4/??)

A/N: Here we go friends! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia. This is a work of fiction that I am not making a profit off of.

Read Chapter 4 on AO3 -> X

Chapter One: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Two: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Three: Tumblr | AO3

This wasn’t the same Uraraka Ochako he’d known during their first year.

The first time he’d noticed her, she was wearing that ridiculous cheerleading uniform.

Bright yellow pom poms perched against her hips, she’d tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him.

It took a few minutes, but he realized he’d seen that tuft of hazelnut hair and rosy round face floating around Deku along with the four-eyes. He hadn’t known her name was Uraraka.

To be fair, he hadn’t bothered to learn the names of any of his classmates. Midoriya was turning out to be a lifelong thorn in his side, so he’d made an exception and decided to name that annoyance.

Deku.

It suited him nicely. Even he’d accepted it, owning the moniker as his code name.

But...

There was no way that cherub-cheeked space cadet was going to beat him, but Bakugo hadn’t expected that girl to be his most difficult match. He’d never say it out loud, but he’d expected his match with Todoroki to really be the test of his ability.

Uraraka had, quite literally to his surprise, nearly crushed him.

That sweet-faced girl had stepped out onto the battlefield with her little fists clenched and face determined. Bakugo couldn’t believe the amount of malice and determination puffed in those round cheeks. She’d fought until she’d dropped. Uraraka had lost but had unknowingly left with some of his respect.

That changed their second year.

Their first combat class of the year, Uraraka had dropped Ashido liked a bad habit in under three minutes. It was common knowledge that Ashido wasn’t the strongest combat fighter. When she bested Kirishima in ten minutes and then ended her fight with Ojiro with a draw, Bakugo was forced to reevaluate his opinion about her.  

She’d evolved into a badass fighter.

This cute girl in bright pink sneakers had become a force to be reckoned with.

Granted, she was still the same bright and bubbly girl who shuffled through the lounge in pink fuzzy slippers and bunny pajamas to make hot cocoa, but she delivered a mean german suplex.

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

Uraraka looked up at him, cheeks stuffed and fingers wrapped around the massive sushi burrito that she had ordered. She took another bite, eyes narrowed in defiance as she licked the sticky sauce dripping down her wrist. “I don’t care,” she spoke, chewing on her burrito as she shrugged.

“You still drunk round face?” At least she wasn’t crying, loud, or obnoxious.

“Not drunk,” she informed as she took another bite of her food. “Why do you have such a hard time accepting that I’m not drunk?”

“Because-” Bakugo really wasn’t sure where exactly to begin with that argument. “You’re out past curfew-”

“You’re also breaking curfew.”

“People expect me to do that shit.” He knew what people thought about him. Though it had been almost two years since his victory at the first year Sports Festival, the image of him chained and growling at the podium followed him like a shadow.

“You go to bed at like eight thirty.”

“Fuck you, pink cheeks.”

She dropped her burrito to her plate and covered her mouth as she cackled.

“Just because you idiots stay up until the ass crack of dawn-”

“I go to bed at like ten most days,” Uraraka corrected, licking her fingers. She picked up a napkin. “Like a normal young adult, and this is my first time breaking curfew for your information.”

“Of course it is.” While he was labeled the class delinquent, Uraraka was one of the shining good apples of their class. “What the hell are your friends going to think about you going rogue?”

“Well-” She dragged the napkin along her face as she picked up her glass of water. “I told Deku to cover for me.”

“Getting your boyfriend-”

Uraraka sighed loudly, rolling her eyes at the label he’d given her friend.

“-to lie for you?” he questioned with mocking disapproval as he picked over his own meal. “I’m surprised.”

“Okay, number one,” she started setting her cup back on the table as she sat back. “Kirishima is lying for you, so...”

“Shitty hair doesn’t know I didn’t go back to the dorms, so I didn’t lie to him.”

Uraraka shook her head, stirring her cup of water, “A lie of omission is still a lie.”

“We’re not talking about me,” red eyes narrowed as he put a mouthful of rice in his mouth. “We’re talking about you getting your nerdy little boyfriend to li-”

“Number two,” Uraraka continued, sharpening her gaze at him. “Deku isn’t my boyfriend. I don’t know how many times I have to say it for you to understand but…” Her shoulders lifted toward her ears as she shrugged, frowning with disapproval.

Bakugo scoffed, “You spent the last two years pining over that nerd, don’t tell me you aren’t into him.”

Her tongue darted between her lips, licking her lips as she chuckled bitterly. “Actually, it was only during our first year.”

“You follow him like a lost puppy,” he spat angrily. To be fair, Bakugo would have been comfortable saying that about any of the extras in her little circle of friends.

“So,” Uraraka started, picking up the burrito in front of her as her eyes sparkled with mischief. “What do you care?” Her brows raised as she took another bite of her late night meal smirking victoriously.

His fingers tightened around his chopsticks as his jaw clenched.

Why did he care?

It wasn’t his business. “I don’t,” Bakugo snapped, swallowing his disgust with another bite of rice.

“You’ve never had a stupid crush on someone?”

“Tch, no, are you fucking kidding?”

She shrugged as she continued eating.

“Who the hell would I have a fucking crush on?”

“Well...” Uraraka took another thoughtful bite.

Of course she had a fucking answer. Why the hell had he asked?

“If I had to guess, I would have thought Mina would be your type-”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“But she and Kirishima have been a thing forever-”

“And she’s not fucking my type!” Even if that pink gossip wasn’t dating his best friend, Bakugo still wouldn’t ever consider it.

She snickered, “Oh so there’s a type now?”

“I don’t have time for feelings and shit.” It wasn’t a lie. Their third year was going to be their last chance before they were released into the professional world. Third-year U.A. students were expected to maintain a full-time class load, complete at least two internships, maintain a personal training plan, and secure a job before graduation.  

“‘Feelings and shit’?” Uraraka snorted as she finished off a large bite. “Really? You make time for your friends.”

Making time for his friends consisted of them following him around and every once in awhile Bakugo not telling them to fuck off. “And?”

“That is under the umbrella of ‘feelings and shit’.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why is that your business?” Bakugo picked up the small bowl of rice in front of him.

“Why is Deku being or not being my boyfriend your business?” Her eyebrows raised as she finished the question.

Good question. “You're fucking annoying,” Bakugo growled pathetically. This much self-reflection had to be unhealthy. He didn’t need to think about why the thought of the two of them together bothered him on top of everything else on his mind.

She picked up a slice of cucumber, holding it between her thumb and index finger. “Indeed,” Uraraka nodded sagely as she placed the bite in her mouth. “I’m still hungry.”

xxxxxxxxxx

“Welcome back,” Iida nodded with a satisfied grin. Pushing his palms against his knees, he stood from his chair walking toward the group entering. “Please be mindful of your volume as most of our classmates have retired for the evening.”

Mina yawned, leaning against the couch, “What did you guys do?”

“Watched movies, played some games,” Midoriya shrugged looking down at his phone as his leg bounced. “Nothing fancy.”

“Let me guess,” Sero chuckled as he fell to the couch between Midoriya and Todoroki. “Uno tournament?” It wasn’t a secret that Iida loved card and board games. He’d gone so far as to host a game night in the common room every once in awhile during the school year with their schedules allowed time.

It wasn’t a secret that Iida was very good and very competitive.

“We destroyed him,” Todoroki commented neutrally.

“Well then,” Iida cleared his throat as he ignored the smug grins from his classmates.

“I wish I could have seen that,” Jiro chuckled under her breath.

“There is water, crackers, aspirin, and sport drinks on the counter to ward off hangovers. I assume everyone is accounted for,” Iida continued.

Yaoyorozu shook her head, “We’re missing Uraraka and Bakugo.”  

“Bakugo left earlier,” Kirishima commented as he walked into the kitchen area. “He’s already asleep.”

“Gotta give him props for coming,” Mina shrugged, resting her forehead on the top of the chair. “He lasted longer than I thought he would.”

“We didn’t see him come in,” Iida frowned, cupping his chin. “I’m going to check-”

“I wouldn’t,” Kirishima warned, shaking his head. “He was pissed.”

“What about Uraraka?” Todoroki questioned. “Has anyone heard from her?”

“Oh well,” Midoriya spoke coughing into his hand as he twitched. “She texted me and said she was stopping for ice cream or something. She’s on the way back.”

“Alone!?” Hagakure squeaked.

“Where did she stop?” Yaoyorozu questioned, pulling out her phone.

Midoriya’s lips twisted, “She said it was by the train.”

“There’s no ice cream shop by the train station,” Kaminari mentioned.

“Or something,” Midoriya shrugged, keeping his eyes to his phone. “She’s fine. She’ll be back before curfew.” Uraraka had about fifteen minutes to prove him right. “You guys go ahead to sleep, I can wait for her.”

“Awesome,” Mina yawned as her arms stretched overhead. “Night ya’ll, until next time.” She grabbed a bottle of water from the counter as she made her way toward the elevator.

“Night guys.”

“Good night.”

“Night!”

Midoriya watched carefully as his classmates filed out toward the elevators and stairs, leaving himself, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu, and Kirishima staring awkwardly at each other.

“Uraraka didn’t tell you she was leaving?” Iida asked directing his question toward Yaoyorozu and Kirishima.

Yaoyorozu shook her head as she kept looking down at her phone. “No. I sent her a message.”

“Guys,” Kirishima looked at Midoriya tilting his head down as his brows raised slightly.

Midoriya copied the expression, eyes darting carefully around the room.

“Uraraka can handle herself,” Kirishima confirmed. “If she says she’s going to be back, she’ll be here.”

The green teen exhaled quietly, allowing himself a moment of relief. “Plus, I’ll wait for her. I got this.”

“It’s settled then,” Kirishima smirked, nodding as he made his way to the steps. “We should get some sleep.”

“I guess,” Yaoyorozu relented. “If she’s not back in ten minutes, call me?”

“I will keep my phone on as well,” Iida insisted as he stepped away. “Please keep us updated.”

“Will do,” Midoriya confirmed, watching as they retreated. One left… “Todoroki…”

“I’ll wait with you.”

Oh boy. “Well, about that…”

Xxxxxxxxxx

“How the hell are you still hungry?”

Uraraka giggled, tugging him along as she tossed a quick glance at him over her shoulder, “Because I am.”

That girl couldn’t be more than one hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet and holding a brick. One hundred twenty-five if he was being generous…

But, somehow this small girl had eaten him under the table and declared they needed dessert. They’d left the restaurant an hour after they were due back on campus. The girl who weighed less than he could bench on his worst day lead him around like a child with a balloon tied to their wrist. She didn’t even have to use her quirk. Bakugo followed obediently, grumbling every few minutes as she pulled on his wrist.

“We’re supposed to be back at the dorms.” It was approaching midnight. They were officially an hour late.

The streets of Tokyo were slow and bright as they walked aimlessly.

“Yeah, but if you’re worried,” she started, stopping at the crosswalk. Brown eyes glowed under the lights of the bright white billboard in front of them as she bumped his shoulder. “Go back to the dorms. I’m getting mochi first.”

“I can’t leave you in the middle of nowhere.”

“I’m not “nowhere”.” Uraraka bounced on her heels as her head bobbed happily from side to side. “I’m somewhere-”

Smart ass.

“In Tokyo. I can find my way to the train.”

“Yeah, well,” he huffed, leading their walk across the street. “I don’t feel like catching shit from your boyfriend-”

“I seriously thought we were past this Bakugo,” she pouted as she hopped to keep up with his strides . “Deku’s not my boyfriend.”

“Or any of those damn losers you call friends.”

“No one knows you’re with me. You aren’t responsible.”

True. “Yeah, but I don’t need you not coming back because of your damn sweet tooth. Let’s get your mochi and go.”

“Aye, aye captain,” she chirped swinging their arms as she looked for someplace to get her treat.

Bakugo growled, jerking his arm away from her half-heartedly. “That’s annoying.”

“I know, you told me,” she chuckled as they kept moving. “Let go of me then.”

“You’re the one holding my wrist, pink cheeks.”

“Actually, you’re the one holding my wrist,” she corrected stopping their pace as her eyes darted down toward their hands. Bakugo’s fingers delicately circled her wrist keeping her firmly in his orbit.

“Goddamn it,” he hissed between furiously clenched teeth as he snapped his head away from her. “Let’s just find the damn mochi.”

“I thought you wanted me to let go.”

“Shut up, Uraraka!”

She laughed at the sound her name growled from his lips. “Aww, come on, don’t be grumpy. Grumpy Kacchans don’t get mochi.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to call me that?!”

“Actually…” she drawled as they approached a small sweet shop. “No, no you haven’t.”

“Well, don’t fucking call me that,” Bakugo muttered, pulling her toward the shop. “Go get your damn mochi. I’ll wait out here.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he watched her walk inside the shop. His head tilted against the wall of the building, as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

ONE MISSED CALL

KIRISHIMA, 10:31PM

Bro! If you’re gonna ditch us at least let me know you’re back safe.

KIRISHIMA, 10:49PM

I’m assuming you’re in your room asleep.

KIRISHIMA, 11:13PM

Not dead in a ditch.

KIRISHIMA, 12:04AM

Seriously though dude… I told them you’re here, so you have to be here!

“Idiot,” Bakugo muttered, pulling up the message screen.

How the hell am I supposed to sleep if you keep bothering me?

Bakugo’s fingers hovered over the send button. The redhead may have been annoying, but Bakugo could never doubt his friend’s loyalty. Kirishima had risked his life and career rescuing him without a single regret.

He knew that Kirishima wouldn’t tell. In fact, all Bakugo had to do was ask and Kirishima would cover for him no questions asked. He couldn’t stop him from making assumptions though.

Bakugo sighed clicking the send button. This little outing with Uraraka wasn’t a big deal, and he didn’t need anyone making anything of it. She, for whatever reason, decided she needed to roam around Tokyo to feed her crazy appetite.

KIRISHIMA, 12:27PM

Excuse me for caring. Sleep tight bro! :D

If Bakugo had a conscience, he’d feel guilty right about now.

“Hey, grumpy!”

Bakugo’s head snapped up to see Uraraka standing in front of him, holding out two treats.

“I got a strawberry and a chocolate. I wasn’t sure what kind of mochi you like,” her eyes darted him to the treats. “Assuming you even like mochi-”

Bakugo huffed, snatching the strawberry mochi from her hand. His eyes narrowed as he took an aggressive bite of the treat.

“Seriously?”

“You wanted to get mochi, and now you’re complaining about me enjoying it!?”

“No!” she laughed, taking a happy bite of her own. “I just didn’t think you’d like strawberry mochi.” Or anything sweet for that matter.

Taking his position back against the wall, his eyes narrowed as he focused on the fountain in the center of the sidewalk. “Piss off.”

“It’s cute!”

Mochi clenched between his teeth, Bakugo growled loudly.

“Oh come on!” she giggled, bumping her shoulder against him. “Who would have guessed you liked strawberry mochi?”

“Everyone likes sweets!”

“Ojiro doesn’t.”

“How the hell do you know that?” he frowned.

“Ojiro does work study with me, and All Might got us treats for our last official day,” Uraraka explained with a little nod. “He gave away all the stuff he didn’t really want, so it wouldn’t go to waste.”

“Weirdo.”

“I’m allowed to notice things about my friends.”

She wasn’t friends with Ojiro. They were in the same class, but Bakugo couldn’t recall ever seeing the two exchange words beyond “Hello”, “Bye”, and maybe “Excuse me”, not that he noticed or cared really.

“Kirishima is my friend, and I know that he loves meat.”

Okay that was easy. Kirishima probably hadn’t eaten a meal without meat since his teeth came in. It wasn’t hard to learn things about Kirishima, that idiot would make friends with a rock if he could.

“Kaminari-”

That idiot may as well be a rock.

“Mina likes-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! I get your point!”

“You like spicy food.”

That was obvious. Bakugo was pretty sure everyone knew that about him.

“And strawberry mochi,” she grinned brightly as she finished her treat.

Bakugo rolled his eyes, looking at her as his patience waned. “Can we go now?”

She hummed thoughtfully, head tilting to rest on one of her shoulders as she considered his question. “Let’s go play in the fountain.”

What? “Are you kidding me?!”

“Nope!” She grabbed his hand, dragging him toward the water feature yards away.

“Oi, pink cheeks-”

“Oh stop being a baby-

This girl was insane. “It’s fucking chilly outside.”

“I am wearing less clothes than you.”

That wasn’t the point. “We can’t splash around like a couple of damn ducks!” he hissed as he stopped in front of the fountain.

“Good metaphor,” she nodded, stepping up on the ledge and placing her hands on her hips, staring at the water.

Bakugo shook his head, digging his fingers in his temple to ward off a headache, “Actually it’s a simile.”

“Whatever,” Uraraka shrugged. “The fact is, I spent the last year working myself into the ground with classes, internships, work study, training-”

And their last year at U.A. was going to be more even intense trying to soak up as much experience as they could before they had to fend for themselves.

“When Aizawa tells you that you’re working too much then you start reevaluating things.”

Apparently, Uraraka also had fun during her end of year meeting. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t tell you to take a swim in a fountain.” All Might didn’t tell him to go to a club and drink either, but they weren’t talking about him.

“No,” she agreed, dipping the toe of her boot in the water as if she were testing the temperature. “But this-” Uraraka grinned, stepping into the fountain. “This makes me happy.” Her feet shuffled through the water making little splashes as she moved around.

“You’re going to get in troubl- the fuck?!” he yelled, jumping back to avoid the small tidal wave of water that almost hit him.

“Oops,” a slow grin curled on her lips as she looked up at him innocently.

They were already late. “Okay, pink cheeks, you got your damn burrito, your mochi, and you’ve kicked your feet around, time to go.” He’d done his part.

“Nope,” she declared as she kicked her feet around the water. Uraraka splashed her feet around like a kid playing in the rain, smiling as Bakugo’s annoyance grew.

“Oi!” he shouted, walking along the perimeter. “You’re gonna get us in trouble.”

“There’s no one out here!” Her arms spread gesturing to the empty streets. “I can’t get in trouble if no one sees me, unless you tell on me.”

“Uraraka! Get out of the fountain!”

“Make me!”

Bakugo closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he attempted to control his temper. “Seriously! Let’s fucking go!”

Her feet kicked up little waves, sending one toward him and splattering water down the front of his black shirt. “I actually didn’t mean to do that…” Uraraka cringed looking at the damage done.

“Okay,” he sighed, peeling off his hoodie. A determined scowl set on his brows as he tossed the garment and his phone on the concrete. “You don’t want to come out-”

She slowly backed away from him, carefully shuffling her feet.

He slipped out of his boots and rolled up his pants with record speed. “I’ll drag you out of there myself.” Bakugo hopped over the edge, chasing after her in the water.

“Gotta catch me first!” she shouted as she dashed around in a little circle, howling with laughter.

They’d splashed in the water several minutes after he’d caught her.

Bakugo decided to blame that on the alcohol.

xxxxxxxxx

“Should we panic?”

“No.” Yes, definitely.

“We should probably tell Iida.”

Probably. “Ten more minutes.”

“You’ve been saying that for the last two hours,” Todoroki murmured, leaning his head against the back of the couch as he closed his eyes.

“Uraraka will be here soon.”

“It’s almost two o’clock in the morning.”

Midoriya sighed as he sent another text message.

Where are you?!!

“Ten more minutes.”

xxxxxxxxx

“Do you know how dirty the ground is?”

“Do you know how soggy my boots are?”

Bakugo snorted as they walked down the sidewalk. “Whose fault is that?” After their impromptu water fight in the fountain, they’d wandered the streets and stopped on a bench to so she could look at the stars before heading back. Somewhere along the way she’d stolen his dry hoodie, wrapping it around herself like an oversized robe.

“Yours,” Uraraka answered as campus came into sight. She’d taken off her boots and socks a few blocks down the road. Though her clothes had tried about an hour ago, her socks were damp and uncomfortable. “If I recall-”

He laughed unhindered as he tucked his hands behind his head as they walked.

The sound made her smile and hard for her to stay serious, “I did not start the water fight-”

“Bullshit!” he shouted, the words not carrying their usual sting.

“I didn’t,” she giggled with feigned innocence as they approached their dorm. “I was simply trying to dip my boots in the water-”

“So it is your fault you’re probably gonna need a tetanus shot?” Bakugo insisted, cringing at her bare feet.

“Whatever.” She didn’t feel the need to comment on the fact that between her hero shoes and damage done by her old sneakers, her feet were probably invincible. “Let’s take the side entrance,” Uraraka told him as she stepped on the grassy area in front of their dorm.

“There’s a side entrance?” Bakugo asked her as he followed her.

Uraraka nodded, pointing to the metal door at the side of the building. “Yep, it’s for administrators and maintenance personnel. You just need a code to get in and there’s no camera.” She stopped in front of the door, punching in a quick series of numbers. The door clicked signaling it was unlocked.

“And how did you get this information?!” If she wasn’t the type to sneak out, why would Uraraka know this?

“Work study,” she shrugged as they walked into the building. The door connected them to the first floor stairwell. “Mic mentioned something about having to change his code when I was making copies, and I may have overheard. They have to reset their codes every semester, but Mic makes his pretty easy and says them pretty loudly.”

“I think I’m impressed, round face,” Bakugo chuckled, following her into the dark and empty common lounge. They walked toward the kitchen, following the soft glow of decorative string lights to guide their way.

“Are you admitting that you had fun?” she grinned stepping into the kitchen. She picked up a bottle of water from the counter, taking a gulp.

“I didn’t say that,” Bakugo sighed opening the fridge. There was almost no point in going to bed now. It didn’t matter what time he went to bed, he was pretty much always up around six, ready to get his day started.

“Subtext, Kacchan.”

“Tch,” he smirked, pulling an apple out.

“We should hang out more,” she told him, snatching the apple.

Bakugo looked at his empty hand, huffing loudly as he watched her take a bite. “How the hell are you still eating?”

Uraraka took another bite, laughing loudly. “You were about to eat, don’t judge me.”

“You-”

“Uraraka…”

Huh?

“Oh!” Uraraka swallowed, shooting a nervous glance toward the couch. “Hey Deku…” she spoke slowly.

Bakugo felt his face tense, his usual expression taking over as he slammed the refrigerator door shut and stormed over toward the stairs.

“Bakugo!” Uraraka called quietly as she followed behind him. “Wait-” she sighed, turning back to her friend sitting on the couch. Todoroki sat next to him, head tipped back as he snored lightly.

Midoriya raised his brows, questions flooding his face. He couldn’t decide what to ask her first, she’d given him a lot to wonder about.

Why was she wearing Bakugo’s hoodie?

Didn’t Kirishima say Bakugo was already here?

Why was her hair damp?

Had Bakugo been out with her the whole time?

And why wasn’t she wearing any shoes?

“I’m back!” Uraraka chirped quietly as she took another bite of her apple, smiling awkwardly at her friend.

To be continued...

[dong-hyucks]

bts yoongi angst w/ a fem reader? it doesnt matter how it happens but sad end please~ im in a bad mood

Prank Call ; Suga

Characters: Suga (Yoongi) / fem!ReaderGenre: Angst // WARNING: Mention of death, murder(ish, not really), and blood. Do not read if you are not comfortable with these topics. Minor swearing.A/N: tbh yoongi is barely in this lmao

Masterlist

   You felt light on your feet as you walked around the kitchen. The aroma of various foods, specifically Yoongi’s favourites, flooded your senses as well as your apartment. Behind you, Seokjin stood at the stove, stirring a pot of regular kimchi. You, admittedly, were not by any means a good cook. However, you did want to have a special dinner with Yoongi, since he had been so busy and stressed lately (more than usual, anyway), so you called the group’s eldest over for help.

   Catching a sight of you humming as you helped with minor things, Seokjin chuckled. “You sure are happy,” he chortled. “I guess you can say you’re eggcited.” Following his pun, Seokjin held up a nearby egg. With a forced laugh, you pat his shoulder.

   “Your jokes only work on Jimin, Jin.”

   “What? Unbelibubble.”

   “Kim Seokjin.”

   “Right, sorry.” Turning his focus away from his jokes and toward the food, Seokjin grew quiet. You let out a small chuckle at his behaviour, going back to cutting vegetables. Before either of you could progress much, your phone rang. Bounding over to it, you placed the device in the crook of your neck, walking back to the kitchen slowly. Seokjin looked up for a second before going back to adding various things to the kimchi.

   “Hello?”

   “Hey.” Yoongi’s voice rang in your ears. You smiled instantly, leaning against the countertop as you listened to him speak. “I’m sorry that I’m still not there,” he began with an undertone of regret, “you said you wanted to have dinner, right?”

   You waved it off, “It’s fine, Yoongles–”

   “I told you not to call me that.”

   “– you said you were going to be a bit late anyway. I can wait.”

   When you heard him sigh, you felt your smile slowly slipping away. “That’s the thing. I don’t want you to wait because I can’t make it.” Suddenly, your heart dropped. “I still haven’t finished this song and management expects me to get it done by tomorrow. If I come over now I won’t be able to.”

   Filled with disappointment, along with irritation, you openly frowned. “But Yoongi, today is our–”

   “Wait,” you heard him talking to someone, but not clearly enough for you to figure out what they were saying. “Sorry, what’s today?”

   You felt your eyes water. You weren’t even sure if the tears were because of hurt or anger. You knew he was busy and all but how could he forget such an important day? “What?” he spoke again, not to you. “[Y/N], I have to get back to work. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

   He hung up. Seokjin looked at you with a raised brow. “He’s not coming,” you mumbled with a sigh. Seokjin gasped, dropping the spoon in his hand into the pot. You raked a hand through your hair in frustration.

   “What do you mean he’s not coming?”

   “Exactly what it sounds like, Jin. He has to work,” your voice cracked as you turned away from him. You glared at the cutting board in front of you; its normally white surface now splashed with a plethora of different colours from the vegetables. Rather than disappointment, anger coursed through your veins at the thought of your boyfriend. “He didn’t even remember what today was.”

   Seokjin frowned, attempting to bring you into a hug. You, however, pushed away his arms and crossed your own. Slightly hurt by your actions, his frown deepened. “Maybe I can call him and persuade him to take the day off,” he suggested.

   Shaking your head, you dug your fingernails into the skin of your arm. “It’s fine, Jin.” You looked away, “I’m sorry, but I think you should go. I appreciate the help, but I’m not in the mood right now.”

   You didn’t bother to see him out the door as you trudged toward your bedroom. Though you didn’t even live with him, the room felt huge without Yoongi. It was empty and cold, despite the hot August weather. It felt like winter. You could hear the front door closing as Seokjin left but paid no attention to it. Falling back onto your bed, you stared up at the ceiling.

   Your mood had drastically dropped. No longer upbeat and happy, you looked up with vexation. With a sudden strike of creativity, or what you’d like to think was creativity, you went back to the kitchen to retrieve your phone.

   “Hello?”

   “Hey, Jungkook. Random question, but how do you feel about pranks?”

   You giggled quietly as you got into position. The wet, cold feeling of the flour-cranberry juice concoction gave you goosebumps as you laid upon it. Above you, Jungkook held a bowl of the liquid. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked for the umpteenth time since he had arrived at your apartment. He wore a look of worry as he fiddled with the rim of the bowl.

   You rolled your eyes at him. “He forgot our anniversary, Kook. He had this coming.” You grinned up at him, “Besides, don’t you want the free food I promised?”

   Jungkook nodded sheepishly, closing his eyes. “Do it for the free ramyeon,” he chanted to himself quietly. You cleared your throat. Cheeks flushing, Jungkook moved quickly, dipping a straw into the bowl. After gathering enough of the juice within the straw he dropped them over different parts of your body, focusing on your abdomen. “Done,” he murmured, looking guilty again.

   You scoffed. “Stop it with that look. If you feel so bad, I won’t tell him that you were involved.” Jungkook looked at you with wavering eyes, silently agreeing to your idea. “Now get out of here before he comes. He said he was going to get here soon.”

   Without a word, Jungkook scrambled out of your apartment (after dumping the bowl in the sink) and closed the door haphazardly. You looked at your watch. 1:27, Yoongi said he’d visit at 1:30 if you were willing. You, of course, agreed.

   Not too long after Jungkook had left, you heard the door opening. You could hear Yoongi mumbling something about your lock and tried to refrain yourself from smiling. “[Y/N]?” His tired, raspy voice sounded loud against the silence of your apartment. Thankful that you took drama in high school, you opened your mouth.

   “Yoongi,” you sputtered with a cough. Your voice sounded weak, just as you had hoped. You heard fast footsteps heading to the living room followed by an audible gasp. Yoongi came into view as he hovered over you, his face contorting into one of extreme panic. You said his name again, this time coughing out the juice you had kept in your mouth. You groaned, placing a hand against your stomach.

   His eyes went down to your abdomen, where most of the juice had been. “What happened?” he choked, hugging your ‘weak’ frame to his own. “Fucking hell,” he mumbled, his grip on you tightening. “I need to call an ambulance–” his voice wavered as he felt around his pockets for his phone.

   You stopped him, taking hold of his wrist with your hand. “I don’t think–” cough, “– they’ll get here fast enough,” you choked out. You scrunched your face up in what you hoped looked like pain. Yoongi stared down at you, wide eyed. His eyes were glazed over as he was on the verge of tears.

   Shaking his head, he hugged you tighter, burying his face in your neck. You glanced over his shoulder as he did so, glancing at the clock. You bit your lip before going limp in his arms. Soon, your eyes flitted closed and your lips locked in an attempt to hold your breath.

   Feeling your body go limp, Yoongi pulled away and held a hand to your face. “No,” he sobbed, repeating the word over and over again frantically, holding his ear over your mouth in hopes of feeling your breath fan across his face. When it didn’t, he broke. He started to sob, hugging you once again. “[Y/N]”, he whimpered, his tears falling atop your cheeks.

   Opening your eyes quickly, you quietly laughed. Yoongi froze in his actions, looking at you incredulously. “Got you,” you whispered slyly. You wore a smug smirk as you looked up at him. You could practically see the cogwheels spinning as he tried to make sense of the situation. His expressions changed more times in that one minute than you had seen in the past month.

   With an expression you knew as recognition, Yoongi dropped you. Ignoring your small groans of pain, he stood up, pants coated with the juice. “What the fuck?” he spat, glaring at you. When you chuckled at his reaction, he seemed to grow angrier. “Did you think that was funny? [Y/N], for God’s sake, I thought you died!”

   Sitting up, you had a deadpan look on your face. “That was the point, sweetheart,” you drawled sarcastically. “That’s what you get for forgetting our anniversary–”

   Yoongi shook his head, backing away from you. “You scared the living hell out of me, all because I forgot an anniversary?” When you looked dead serious, he sneered. “Wow,” he whispered, “I didn’t think you were this fucking childish.”

   Narrowing your eyes, you stood up, ignoring the trail of cranberry juice travelling down your back. “Childish? You had this coming, Yoongi. You forgot such an important date–”

   “There will be more anniversaries, [Y/N].” His interruption kept you quiet. “Just because I forgot one doesn’t mean you have to be an idiot and do this.” Yoongi looked sick. With another shake of his head, he walked away.

   Following him, you furrowed your eyebrows together. “Where are you going?” You asked, your voice cold, “we aren’t done here.”

   He turned on his heel, glaring at you with full force. You stopped dead in your tracks, a chill running down your spine at the sight of him. “No, [Y/N]. As a matter of fact, we are done,” he growled, turning to leave.

   Your front door slammed shut, leaving you standing in the hallway, drenched in cranberry juice as you stared at where Yoongi once stood. Indignation filled your entire being as you let out a huff of annoyance.

   “He’ll get over it,” you told yourself stubbornly, “he’ll get over it and then he’ll see that he was being an asshole for no reason.”

   Yoongi returned to the dorm, covered in cranberry juice and insatiably annoyed. Jungkook and Hoseok, who had been talking on their couch, looked up at him in shock. “What happened to you?” Hoseok asked, knowing not to joke when Yoongi was pissed.

   “My childish brat of a girlfriend thought it’d be a good idea to prank me just because I forgot our anniversary,” he answered coldly, throwing his jacket onto a nearby dining chair with little to no care. He grumbled on, looking down at his clothes in complete and utter irritation.

   Guilt flooded Jungkook once again at the sight of him. He nervously gnawed at his lip, his fists clenching as he broke out in a cold sweat. Before Yoongi could disappear down the hallway, presumably to take a shower, he called out to him.

   “Wait!”

   Yoongi turned, now void of emotion as he stared down the youngest. He gulped, feeling the eyes of both him and Hoseok on him. “I have a confession,” he stuttered, gripping onto his own shirt nervously. “[Y/N] called me over earlier and asked me to help her with,” he trailed off, looking down guiltily. The room went completely silent.

   Hoseok, who had no idea what truly happened, appeared more shocked than Yoongi did. Yoongi, instead, looked betrayed and furious. “You knew what she wanted to do to me and you helped her?”

   Jungkook admitted to what you had promised him in return, his voice growing quiet as he realized how stupid he had been to agree. Yoongi looked beyond angry at that point, his breathing growing heavier as he glared at him. “I can’t believe you two,” he uttered, his voice low. The disappointment in his voice hit Jungkook hard, but he had no choice but to accept it. He watched as Yoongi stomped down the hall, followed by the slam of the bathroom door.

   Following the loud noise, the rest of the members filled the hallway in confusion.

   Jungkook swallowed thickly, explaining the situation to them. He didn’t dare look up, because he knew if he did he’d be faced with the looks of disappointment.

   Days had passed since then and the both of you, Yoongi and yourself, have talked. You did think of texting him, but then Taehyung sent you a recording of him saying that he doesn’t want to talk to someone with the mindset of a child. That set you off immediately. The boys had been trying to get you two to talk to each other, but to no avail.

   “Come on, [Y/N],” Taehyung begged, giving you a pout. “It’s been a week. If you just apologized–”

   “I have nothing to apologize for,” you muttered, changing the channel. Your eyelids felt heavy. Exhaustion was hitting you slowly but surely.  “He hasn’t apologized for forgetting our anniversary, so why should I?” Taehyung let out a groan at your stubbornness, falling back on your couch. Since your anniversary, he had been coming over almost every day to try to persuade you to talk to Yoongi.

   “Please? If not for yourself, think of Jungkook!” Taehyung shifted, landing in your lap as he put his hands together to beg. “Yoongi started ignoring him too and now he’s just sulking around the dorm all day. Besides, there’ll be other anniversaries.” You rolled your eyes, squinting at the TV when it suddenly blurred. When it cleared, you saw some old action movie where the main character got in a car crash; boring. Switch.

   “It’s not my fault he decided to confess to helping me. I told him he didn’t have to, but he didn’t listen to me.”

   Taehyung shut his eyes in what was almost annoyance as he rolled off of your lap and onto your, now slightly red, carpet. “You’re both so hard-headed,” he croaked. Shooting up into a sitting position, Taehyung rested his chin on your knee. You paid no attention to him, still trying to find something to watch. You frowned, putting the remote down for a second to pull at the collar of your shirt, moving your arm back and forth to fan yourself. Why was the room so hot?

    “What if I told you Yoongi misses you?”

   You snorted, “If he missed me he would’ve called by now.”

   “So you do want him to call!” he exclaimed, sounding as if he just won an award for outstanding behaviour. “Oh, I’ll tell Jimin–” He stopped short, frowning as he patted his pockets. Confused, he stood to search them more thoroughly. “I forgot my phone at the dorm,” he frowned.

   Taehyung peered over at you, plopping onto the couch lazily. “What did you do anyway? Yoongi came home looking pissed that day.”

   “Ask Jungkook.”

   Your disinterest was starting to annoy even Taehyung. You caught this, and looked over at him. “If you’re annoyed with me too, feel free to leave.”

   He looked alarmed at your assumption, his emotions completely transparent. You nearly laughed despite yourself, Taehyung had always been quite expressive. “You’re kicking me out?” he asked in a quiet voice. You almost felt bad, but shrugged to hide your own feelings. He brought his brows together in confusion, “Do you not want to talk about Yoongi? Is that why–”

   “Taehyung, stop.”

   He shook his head. “No, listen to me. If you don’t want to talk about it, fine. But you don’t have to push us all out just because you’re irritated with him.” He gestured toward your phone, “do you know how many times they’ve texted and called you? Do you even realize that you’ve been ignoring us, or are you doing it on purpose?”

   “Taehyung,” you repeated quietly, “stop.”

   “Just because you’re hurting doesn’t mean you have to hurt us as well, [Y/N],” he said with a sigh. “We’re trying to help you out here.”

   “Then stop trying.”

   There was a pregnant pause; the air thick with tension. Taehyung practically had the word hurt stamped across his forehead as he stared at you in shock. Your voice had come out much harsher than you had intended, but you couldn’t turn back time to take it back. What’s been said has been said.

   Without a word, Taehyung stood from your couch. You were surprised as he walked before you, toward your front door. You couldn’t believe he actually took your words seriously and was leaving. The sound of your door closing sounded deafening, even against the buzz of your TV. You let out a pathetic laugh.

   “I guess everyone’s leaving me.”

    You leaned back, unknowingly leaning against the remote that you had tossed aside beforehand. The channel switched to a rerun of Weekly Idol, a show you usually enjoyed. This time, however, you couldn’t see yourself enjoy the episode. You watched as the camera panned in on Yoongi as he laughed, the familiar sound clouding your mind. Turning away from the TV, you turned it off with the click of a button.

   You threw your head back against the couch, closing your eyes in thought. A bead of sweat slowly trailed down the side of your face. Thinking back to what Taehyung had told you, you frowned. Was he right? Memories of and with the boys made you feel melancholic.

   No, you shook your head defiantly, I’m not the one at fault here. They’re trying to get me to talk about something I don’t want to. Don’t they realize that they’re the ones hurting me? You stood up, walking to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water.

   Yeah. It’s not my fault that things have gone to hell.

   You drank your water in one go, or at least– you attempted to (you missed your mouth a bit), leaning over the counter in exhaustion. Water dripped down your chin, falling to the marble countertop slowly. Your phone went off but you couldn’t have been bothered to go check it. With an angry cry, you pulled at your hair. The entire situation with Yoongi was stressing you out, with him ignoring you and the boys crowding you. You fell to your knees, right in the middle of your kitchen, bringing the empty glass with you. You paid no heed to the shattered glass as it pierced the skin of your legs. Silently, your back hit the cold tiles as your eyes fluttered shut.

   What if…

   What if you are at fault?

   “[Y/N], I’m back and I brought– oh my God!”

   “Taehyung, hurry! Call an ambulance!”

   Jungkook and Taehyung were in the waiting room of the hospital. Since the ambulance arrived and brought you to the hospital, they had yet to be informed of your condition. Taehyung paced back and forth while Jungkook sat tapping his foot. “Sit down,” Jungkook mumbled, dropping his head into his hands. “You’re making me dizzy.”

   Taehyung quietly sat down, fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater nervously. With a shaky breath, he took his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. “Namjoon,” he whispered to Jungkook, who had looked at him quizzically. Jungkook stayed quiet as Taehyung spoke to their leader, his voice hushed as he hunched over. He noticed that he sounded quite disappointed, but chose to wait until he was done talking with Namjoon.

   Taehyung swore under his breath after hanging up. “Yoongi’s being pigheaded,” he groaned, disregarding his manners. “He was with Namjoon but when he told him, Yoongi thought I was pranking him with [Y/N].” Jungkook averted his eyes to the ground, feeling responsible for Yoongi’s actions. “Hey,” Taehyung swung his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder in an attempt to console him. “It’s not entirely your fault. [Y/N] was part of the prank too. Don’t shoulder all the blame.”

   Jungkook stayed silent.

   “Is [Y/F/N]’s family present?” a doctor asked upon entering the room. The two stood immediately, making the doctor look at them oddly. The doctor, Lee Jieun according to her name tag, looked exhausted as she walked up to them, tapping her pen against her clipboard as she moved. Jieun stopped in front of them, eyeing the duo suspiciously. “Friends?” she assumed, raising a brow. Jungkook nodded briskly, biting down on his lip as he exchanged looks with Taehyung.

   “Her family’s overseas,” Taehyung informed her. “We were the ones who found her.” The doctor nodded slowly, almost as if she didn’t believe him.

   “Well, you’d probably like to know about her condition?” Jieun didn’t bother waiting for an answer before looking down at her clipboard. “She fainted due to exhaustion and dehydration. She’ll need a few days to completely recover, but all that’s needed is lots of rest and water. The glass shards didn’t cut deep, but there were quite a few cuts on her legs, so we’ve had them bandaged.” Jieun let out a sigh, “She’ll be able to go home today, but I suggest you have someone watch her. Make sure she takes care of herself for a few days.”

   “I’ll do it,” Taehyung and Jungkook said in unison. They spared a glance at each other for a brief second before looking at Jieun expectantly.

   She merely chuckled, gesturing behind her. “You can go see her if you’d like. You can decide what happens at home then.” Guiding the boys to your room, she opened the door for them before heading off in the opposite direction. Taehyung and Jungkook clambered into the room, both relieved to see you up.

   After what Jieun had said, the presence of exhaustion was obvious on you. Taehyung cursed himself for not realizing when he had been over before. “You okay?” Jungkook asked, almost waddling to your side. Before you could answer, Jimin, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin filed into the room. You frowned when Seokjin closed the door behind him.

   “Sorry we’re here so late,” Namjoon panted, sounding as if he and the boys had ran to the hospital. “We had to get the manager to drive us and we tried to convince Yoongi–” he trailed off, looking down at you. “Never mind, how are you doing?”

   “Fine,” you winced. Your voice was scratchy and rough, your throat dry. Jimin handed you the water bottle he had brought with him. Thanking him quietly, you took small sips from it. Swallowing, you placed the bottle to the side. “Thanks for coming,” you murmured. “You must’ve been busy. Sorry to take you away from your schedules.”

   Hoseok smiled over at you, though it seemed forced. “We had the day off,” he smiled.

   The room went silent. You stared at your covered legs, hesitantly pulling at the thin blanket atop of you, revealing your bandaged legs. Small spots of blood had leaked through the bandaging in numerous areas, the sight making you wince. The boys frowned at the sight of your bloodied limbs, making you cover them hastily in embarrassment.

   “What happened after I left?” Taehyung asked, his voice soft and gentle as he spoke. “How did you get hurt?” You explained what had happened in a very brief manner, excluding your previous thoughts.

   “And then I just, well, fainted.” You brought a hand to your mouth, picking at the chapped skin. It was a bad habit that had ended in bloody lips in the past, but now you couldn’t care less. “I guess,” you started, “I need to sleep a bit more.”

   “You guess?” Jimin frowned. He shifted his weight onto one foot. “You do need to sleep more, [Y/N]. What if you hit your head when you fell? What would’ve happened if the glass had cut you deep? You could’ve been seriously hurt.” You refrained yourself from flinching at his cold tone. “You need to stop being selfish, [Y/N],” despite his harsh words, he kept his voice soft. “Think about the people around you. We worry about you; you’re like a sister to us. And what you did with Yoongi… You went too far, anniversary or not.”

   You didn’t have to look at him to know Jimin held disappointment in his eyes. Seokjin looked at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape. “Jimin,” he murmured. Jimin took one glance at your legs before turning around and walking out.

   Namjoon glanced at everyone in the room before following after him. You heard him call to Jimin faintly, but everything sounded dull to you. “He didn’t mean that–” Hoseok tried, shooting you a tense smile. You shook your head, bringing your knees to your chest, ignoring the slight sting the action brought with it.

   “He did. It’s okay,” you sighed. “I deserved that. He’s right, I’m being selfish and I’m hurting the people I care about.” Taehyung looked at you, his eyes softening when you buried your face in your arms. “I want– no, I need to apologize to Yoongi.” You looked up, making eye contact with Taehyung. “I realize, now, that what I did crossed the line.”

   Hoseok grinned, pretending to wipe away his tears. “My baby’s all grown up,” he joked, lifting the room’s atmosphere instantly. Jungkook and Taehyung laughed wholeheartedly, happy that you realized what you’ve done wrong. “I’ll go ask the doctor when you can be discharged,” Seokjin said with a chuckle. He quickly left the room, leaving the four of you behind.

   “By the way, Jungkook,” you said, pursing your lips. “I’m sorry for dragging you into everything. Yoongi wouldn’t be ignoring you if it weren’t for me.”

   Jungkook waved it off, claiming that it was fine. “What made you change your mind?” He asked curiously. “Before you were so adamant that you weren’t in the wrong.” Taehyung nodded in agreement.

   You looked away, ashamed in yourself. You watched as the cars below drove past quickly, some too quickly, the sight distracting you for a single moment. “I was thinking about it before I fainted,” you admitted, “but hearing Jimin say that… It really set it in stone. What I did was horrible. Like you said, there’ll be more anniversaries.” A weak laugh passed your lips, “Though, I’m not too sure we’ll have another after what’s happened.”

   Taehyung punched your shoulder lightly, “Come on, [Y/N]! Don’t be like that, I’m sure you two will have loads of anniversaries in the future. Like,” he paused for a second, “the anniversary of when you first texted!”

   “Tae, no one celebrates that.”

   “Oh.”

   The room went silent for a moment before the four of you laughed together. Before much could happen next, Seokjin re-entered the room with a small smile. “We can leave now if you want to, [Y/N].”

   You nodded, pulling the blanket off of you. You flushed, the fact that you weren’t wearing pants suddenly hitting you. Thankfully, the doctors didn’t need the take you out of your undergarments and your shirt, but you felt bare anyway. Blushing, Jungkook looked away. Seokjin chuckled at the youngest’s behaviour, throwing you a pair of sweatpants. “I grabbed them before we left,” he told you, “they’re [member whose height is closest to yours]’s. They shouldn’t be too long.”

   You thanked him before wrapping the blanket around your waist, moving away to the bathroom to slip them on. It didn’t take long before you were walking down the hallway, with you walking slower than usual. You winced every few steps, but you ignored the pain. You had other things to focus on other than your less than minor injuries, like apologizing.

   Namjoon and Jimin were waiting by the entrance. You had the will to smile when Jimin glanced at you apologetically with a bashful grin. You assumed that Seokjin got the chance to relay your words and that he wasn’t irritated with you anymore.

   “We had to park across the street,” Namjoon mentioned, rubbing the back of his neck. “The parking lot was completely full. It’s as if everyone within a five mile radius had to visit today.” You easily spotted their van. It was across the street, as Namjoon said, and it stood out immensely next to the various cars around it.

   The seven of you moved to cross the street carefully. You lagged behind the boys a bit, but they didn’t noticed as they were too absorbed in focusing on not getting hit by passing vehicles themselves.

   Time moved slowly.

   You watched as the boys walked ahead of you, looking at their backs rather than the busy road. You didn’t have time to react when you heard the deafening sound of a passing car’s horn.

   You didn’t have time to react when the car’s bumper struck you, sending you flying.

   You didn’t have time to react when you violently landed on the back windshield of another car, consciousness losing you for the second time that day.

   Yoongi mindlessly scrolled through his old photos, sprawled across the couch in a tired fashion. Namjoon sat on the other side of the couch, equally as bored as him as he zoned out on the TV, not really watching whatever was on. It had been a slow day. They had a day off before they had to go back to practicing, so they just lazed around the dorm. Jungkook and Taehyung, however, were constantly coming back and leaving.

   Though they didn’t say where they were going, Yoongi could tell that they were visiting you. They had, after all, requested Seokjin to make your favourite dish before disappearing with it.

   Yoongi froze, his finger hovering over his phone screen. He had come across and old photo of you and him. The photo had been taking during the early months of your relationship, the two of you still looking somewhat awkward with each other. Back then, he had more time for you, for your relationship. Before he could get too caught up in his memories, he quickly deleted the photo. He wore a scowl at the thought of you and what you had pulled on him a few days prior.

   Although the anger that burned within him was strong, he still thought of you everyday. Two days after your anniversary, he had seen a plushie stand while taking a break from working. One of the plushies had reminded him of you and, despite himself, he almost bought it.

   “Hello?” Yoongi looked up. He hadn’t even noticed Namjoon take out his phone. “Yeah, one second.” Namjoon pulled the phone away from his ear, placing the call on speaker. “Go ahead.”

   “We have a problem,” he heard Taehyung say. “You know how we visited [Y/N]?” Yoongi’s scowl deepened. He rolled around, facing the back of the couch. He felt tempted to leave, but the serious tone Taehyung had spoken in intrigued him.

   “Well, after Kook and I left, we headed straight back to her apartment. It hadn’t even been half an hour since I had left first,” he said with a sigh. “Anyway, when we returned she wasn’t in the living room like we expected her to be, so I went to put the food in her kitchen and…” When he trailed off, Yoongi turned his head slightly.

   “She was unconscious,” Taehyung’s voice wavered, “and there was blood and broken glass–”

   Yoongi, unconvinced, scoffed. Namjoon glanced up at him, surprised when he walked away. “We’re at the hospital,” he concluded. “If you could, do you think you could get Yoongi to come? Maybe they can work things out when she wakes up.” Taehyung sounded as if he was just reassuring himself.

   Namjoon stayed quiet for a moment. “I’ll try to convince him. We’ll see you there.”

   Namjoon hung up, rubbing his face as he let out a heavy sigh. Hoseok, who had just walked into the living room, looked at him with a raised brow. “What’s up?

   In his room, Yoongi slipped his earphones in, blasting his music at a dangerously high volume. He sat at the head of his bed, bobbing his head to the beat as he closed his eyes. He didn’t notice Jimin barge into the room until one of the earphones had been pulled out. He opened his eyes, annoyed at the sudden intrusion. He was already in a foul mood, he didn’t need Jimin making it worse.

   “Get up,” Jimin said bluntly.

   Yoongi responded with a cock of his brow. “Excuse me?”

   “[Y/N]’s in the hospital, so hurry. We’re going to visit her.”

   Yoongi snorted, rolling his eyes as he put his earphone back in. Jimin frowned, grabbing his wrist and pulling slightly. This seemingly made things worse, as Yoongi twisted his arm out of his grasp, pulling out his earphones angrily. “Stop it,” he spat. His eyes trailed off behind Jimin, only to see the rest of the boys standing in the doorway. “I thought you were all better than this. [Y/N]’s already fucked me over once this week, I don’t need her to do it again– much less with the help of all of you. I’ve had enough of her childish pranks already; grow up.”

   Jimin looked hurt when he glanced over his shoulder. Seokjin merely shook his head, gesturing for the younger boy to just leave without Yoongi. With a heavy heart, Jimin followed the boys out. Yoongi shook his head when he heard the front door open and close, followed with the loud click of their dysfunctional lock.

   The dorm was empty and eerily quiet. Though, most of the time some quiet was just what he wanted it was too quiet. He sighed. Without anyone around to complain, he unplugged his phone from his earphones and blasted his music loudly and freely. He moved off his bed, opting to take a seat on the chair across it. Hunching over the desk, he decided to use his time wisely and worked away, pressing pencil against paper.

   Before he even realized it, an hour and a half had passed. The boys still weren’t back yet. He laughed bitterly, “They really expect me to believe them, don’t they?” he asked himself. He’d never admit it, but part of him was itching to call the hospital and ask if they had a patient under your name.

   Like the world had been reading his mind, Yoongi’s phone began to ring. He answered it without checking the caller ID and stared intently at a mark on the wall. “Hello?”

   “Yoongi,” Jungkook sobbed. He repeated his name again through his hiccups. Yoongi straightened up instantly, worry filling his entire being. Jungkook usually never cried, much less sobbed. “I, oh my God,” he stuttered. He could hear distant chatter in the background, followed by yelling.

   “Jungkook, what’s wrong?”

   “It’s [Y/N],” he choked, sniffling loudly. “We were just about to head over to the dorms when,” he had to stop himself, his voice was shaking too much. He heard shuffling and soon he was talking to someone else.

   “Yoongi, you need to get here,” Hoseok’s voice answered. He, too, was crying, and he was crying very hard. “There was a car accident; [Y/N] got hit head on.”

   Yoongi stayed silent. He felt confused. With your devious personality, you might’ve very well bribed the boys to play along with your little joke again, just like you did with Jungkook. On the other hand, he trusted the boys more than anyone. Memories of Jungkook confessing to helping you with your first prank flashed in his mind, and with it came outrage. “I could’ve expected this from the younger members, but you too, Hoseok?” he said in a cold voice. Blinded by his emotions, he hung up, throwing his phone onto his bed.

   Not too long after, it rang again. He let it, covering his ears as he curled up in his chair. When it stopped, he didn’t relax. His hands shook as they clenched into fists, his teeth grinding together. He didn’t get like this often, but when he did the boys knew not to mess with him.

   His phone started ringing.

   Annoyed beyond belief, he stomped over, and picked it up. “What the hell do you want?” he spat without thinking. There was a brief silence.

   “Is this Min Yoongi?” He blinked when a voice he didn’t recognize answered. He pulled away to look at the caller ID. He didn’t recognize it either. “Hello?”

   “Who is this?”

   “My name is Lee Jongsuk, a doctor at the Severance Hospital. You were listed as [Y/F/N]’s emergency contact. She was just hit by a car and is in critical condition, so I’d advise that you head over as soon as possible. There is,” the doctor stopped short. “There is a very low chance of her survival.”

   Yoongi’s mind went blank. His eyes were blown wide, his mouth stuck in an ‘o’ shape. When he leaned forward to let in a haggard breath, his black hair falling over his eyes. “Min Yoongi?”

   “I’ll be there,” he stammered quietly.

   Without a word, he hung up. He didn’t move right away, still absorbing the newfound information.

   You were actually in the hospital. You got hit by a car. You could die.

   When realization settled upon him, Yoongi began to panic. His past anger fading away, being replaced with the anxiety that hovered over him like a cloud. “No, no, no,” he repeated, clutching his head as his eyes began to water. The same feeling that had consumed him when he walked into your apartment that day swallowed him whole once again.

   With haste and little to no caution, Yoongi scrambled out of the dorm. He didn’t have time to call for a taxi and the manager hadn’t returned yet. Cursing loudly, he began to run in the direction of the hospital. People he passed by began to talk, and it wasn’t long before he got recognized. A fan attempted to talk to him, but he was rushing too much to stop.

   He knew there would be pictures taken. He knew that the world would see him in such a vulnerable state by tomorrow, but he didn’t care. His mind was focused on you. An image formed in his mind, one of you lying helplessly, covered in your own blood.

   Tears fell freely from his eyes, disappearing into his hair as the wind blew them back. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a van pulled in beside him. He stopped, recognizing the vehicle as the manager’s. Yoongi quickly pulled open the door and hopped in. The boys’ manager didn’t say a word before pulling away from the curb and toward the hospital.

   “Are you crazy?” he muttered, pulling out a box of tissues from the back and handing it to Yoongi. “Did you plan to run fifteen miles to get to the hospital?” Yoongi didn’t answer, too busy catching his breath. No matter how much he wiped them away, tears kept wetting his cheeks.

   The rest of the ride was quiet. The manager didn’t have the will to speak and Yoongi was preoccupying himself by staring at photos of you. He quickly recovered the old photo he had deleted, thankful that it was even an option.

   When they arrived, Yoongi didn’t even wait for the van to pull to a complete stop. Running toward the entrance, he bursted in and rushed to the receptionist. “I’m here for [Y/F/N],” he panted. “Where is she?”

   Before the receptionist could even answer, he heard his name being called. He looked to the left, immediately spotting Hoseok sprinting over, despite a worker’s scolding. His eyes were red and puffy, still glazed over; something Yoongi noticed right away as he got closer. “Why aren’t you wearing your mask? Or at least a hat?” He whispered, pulling Yoongi in the direction he came from.

   “Does that even matter right now?”

   Hoseok didn’t answer, instead taking off his own cap and placing it on Yoongi’s head. “It’s fine,” Yoongi mumbled, eyes searching the hall for any sign of you. “There’s probably photos of me running on the way here anyway.”

   Hoseok looked over at Yoongi with a shocked expression. “You ran here? From the dorm?”

   “Almost did.”

   Realizing that Yoongi wasn’t in the right mindset to answer normally, Hoseok stopped talking. They turned a corner and instantly came across the boys. Each of them were either watery-eyed or crying. “You’re here,” Jimin cried. The boy was shaking from where he stood, eyes wide and full with tears. Yoongi flinched when he noticed a drop of blood that had splashed across Jimin’s cheek, knowing very well that it was yours.

   “How is she?” he croaked. He was biting back tears.

   “They’re still in there,” Taehyung whispered, eyes trained on the ground as he wiped away at his dampened cheeks. Yoongi’s eyes darkened as he remembered what the doctor who had called him said.

   Nothing felt as real as his fear in that very moment. He feared that the last time he saw you, he would have been glaring at you. He feared that the last time he saw you, he told you that you were done. He feared that he would never see your smile again, hear your laugh, feel the warmth of your body against his. He feared that you would die, not knowing that he loved you.

   He slowly fell against the wall, sliding down it’s hard surface until he was sat on the floor. He didn’t bother wiping away his tears, nor did he look up. He sat in silence, crying.

   It felt like hours had passed already, when in reality it had only been one.

   Since he had arrived, Yoongi watched as several doctors rushed in and out of the operating room, the one you were in, each one entering clean and leaving with blood splattered across their uniform-clad bodies.

   Suddenly, all at once, his heart shattered into a million pieces.

   As a doctor pushed open the door, it was obvious, deafening even. The boys froze in their spots when they heard it.

   “Patient, [Y/F/N]. Time of death, 16:03.”

   And in that moment, at exactly 16:03, Yoongi could feel himself pass with you to the world of the dead.

Tiny details:

   [Y/N] feeling cold/empty despite the hot August weather; reference to the line ‘even in August, winter is here’ from Spring Day

   Yoongi looking at [Y/N]’s photo before deleting it; reference to the lines ‘I’m looking at your photo, time is so cruel, I hate us’ from Spring Day

   ‘Time of death, 16:03.’ 16:03 = # of times they say ‘I miss you’ in Spring Day : # of times they say ‘hate’ in Spring Day according to this site

if you couldn’t tell, this was inspired by Spring Day hha ^^

[sitabethel]

Any chance you could post some random fluffsmut headcanons for trashshipping today? I kind of ran into some jarring stuff I'm gonna have to deal with later. -aspidisecalis being a nerd at the bakery again

Oooooooo~ I think It’s time to do a teaser for One Man’s Trash (the Trashshipping fic I’ve been working on here and there. I have 14 finished chapters so far). This is the end of Chapter 8, the “first kiss” scene. 

Context: Kek and Bakura are trying to live like “normal people.” They finally get their own apartment, but they’re broke af, so they don’t have much. There are some OC mentions:

Tomoko: She’s the landlady at the hostel they stayed at before they could move out on their own. She’s pretty much an adopted mother to Kek.

Granny: She’s a grumpy old woman that owns the noodle shop in which Bakura works. She walks around all day drinking booze and coffee, so Bakura gets along with her pretty well, actually. 

It was frightening, how he felt, but Bakura caught his reflection in a store window on the walk home and stopped to really stare at himself.

He saw a little of the thief he once was, mostly in the set of his jaw and the way his eyes narrowed in automatic suspicion at everything in the world, but otherwise… he looked like he belonged in Japan, Ryou’s long lost cousin. He had Ryou’s delicate cheekbones and eyes, his narrow nose and thinner lips. It was like he’d been reincarnated, and Bakura supposed he had been. He fought the Pharaoh in video games now, and snuggled on the couch with an orphan who’d been adopted by a hostel’s landlady and a tanuki who possessed a couch. It wasn’t weirder than anything else that’d ever happened to him.

Bakura snorted, smirked at his own reflection, and walked home, wanting to see Kek. He struggled for a second to get the key to turn in the worn out lock, but then he opened the door and stepped inside.

“Hey, Kek, I was wondering if you wanted- holy shit.” Bakura started laughing.

Bubbles covered the kitchen floor. In some areas, the suds rose almost half a meter tall. The mess soaked into the edge of the living room carpet.

“Just- shut- the- fuck- up!” Kek shouted through sobs. He knelt amidst the foam with a towel in each hand and tears running down his cheeks.

“Oi, oi.” Bakura shut the door, slipped off his shoes and socks, and tiptoed to the kitchen. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I can’t do this!” Kek wailed. “How am I supposed to be a human being when I can’t even run a dishwasher!” He rubbed his eyes against his bicep. “What did I do wrong? I don’t understand how I fucked up something so easy.”

“Did you use a tab?” Bakura asked as he crouched beside Kek.

“Tab? I used dish soap?”

“The liquid kind?”

“There’s more than one kind?” Kek’s face wrinkled, still shouting. “How was I supposed to know that?”

“You weren’t.” Bakura wrapped his arms around Kek and held him. “Tomoko didn’t have a dishwasher. How could you know? I only know because of Ryou.”

“Stupid Marik,” Kek hissed between clenched teeth. “If he was normal- I wouldn’t be so fucked up!”

“You wouldn’t exist.” Bakura used his thumb to tilt Kek’s face up. He smiled when Kek looked at him and traced Kek’s cheek. “And hey, I kinda enjoy the fact that you exist. This humanity thing would be underrated if I couldn’t watch you stumble through it with me.”

Tears welled up in Kek’s eyes, and Bakura hated seeing tears in his eyes.

“It’s just soap and water.”

“I fucked up all the towels.”

“I’ll go get some more.”

But Bakura didn’t stand up. Instead, he dropped down to his knees, allowing the bubbles and water to soak through his jeans, and leaned in to kiss Kek. They both closed their eyes as their lips moved tentatively against each other. When Bakura pulled away; Kek gasped.

“I’m going out to get towels-”

“We can’t afford-”

Bakura kissed him again and realized it was a great way to shut an Ishtar up. He should have kissed Kek back in Battle City. He’d take that over getting roasted by a god any time.

“Don’t worry about it.” Bakura shook his head. “Towels are cheap, and I’ve been stingy so I could get your present- which I’m also getting, so throw those towels in the wash, and I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t know about the tabs.”

“It’s not your fault.” Bakura combed Kek’s hair with his fingers, and then got up and left before Kek could apologize again.

He went to the thrift store with soap-soaked pants. He grabbed the entire stack of towels, and the manager noticed Bakura carrying an armload of towels with wet pants and a sheepish look on his face, and she gave him a discount for buying the entire batch. After the thrift shop, Bakura counted up his money. He’d been trying to manage to save enough to get Kek a nice, red leather jacket that he’d seen, but the dishes, the eggs and rice, the extra towels… Bakura still had enough for something, but not a leather jacket. He sighed and started walking towards the house, glancing at the shops and wondering what the fuck he was going to do.

Then he saw the pet shop and had a brilliant idea. Bakura bought a fishbowl, dark purple gravel, dechlorinator, and two cheap fake plants. Then he went over to the betas and picked the brightest, most blood-red one he could find. His shopping bags in one hand, and a plastic container in the other, Bakura rushed back to the apartment with a huge grin on his face.

“I’m back!” He shouted into the apartment.

“Did you get the towels?” Kek asked, standing over the rice cooker with bubbles all around his feet. The apartment carried the warm scent of cooked rice as Kek used a regular spoon to stir it because they didn’t own a rice paddle yet.

“I got something better than towels.” Bakura held out the fish.

“Idiot.” Kek rubbed at his eyes, but didn’t cry again. “You shouldn’t have bothered.”

“I wanted to.” Bakura set everything down on their table.

Kek walked up behind him and, despite the wet floor, Kek picked Bakura up, turned him around, and set him on top of the table beside the fish. Bakura opened his mouth to complain, but Kek’s tongue slipped inside and he moaned instead.

“Thank you,” Kek whispered against Bakura’s lips. “You taught me how to say that, you know.”

“It’s just a bad habit I picked up from my old host.” Bakura chuckled at himself because the statement was true.

“H-how do I…” Kek pushed away from Bakura and went towards the fish.

“Put the gravel in the bowl. Add the plants. Fill with water. Then follow the directions for those drops.”

“It says it has to sit to work in the water.”

“Then let it sit. He’ll be fine in the cup until then.” Bakura stretched and groaned. He grabbed the towels and they used them to mop up the floor and then Bakura stripped and stuck in clothes and the towels in the washer.

“Should have saved one for yourself,” Kek said.

“Shit,” Bakura cursed. He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Whatever. I’m still taking a shower and drawing a bath to soak in afterward.” He glanced at Kek. “Want to join me in the bath?”

“W-wh-what?” Kek giggled, his face going flush even through his complexion.

“It’s common in Japan. You rinse off in the shower and then relax in the tub.”

“With other people?” Kek asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes.” Bakura snorted and walked towards the bathroom. “Look, I don’t care either way, just thought I’d offer.”

“I didn’t say no!” Kek followed.

“Give me a second to shower first.” Bakura laughed.

“You’re already naked. What’s the point of me waiting now?”

“Whatever.” Bakura stepped into the shower.

He washed his hair, soaped up, and rinsed everything as quickly as possible. He heard the bath running as he rinsed.  Bakura didn’t have a towel, so he had to wring out his hair the best he could and shake dry before stepping out of the shower cubicle.

“Thought you’d want to go straight to the tub,” Kek said.

“Thanks.” Bakura dipped his body into the huge bathtub. “Fuck. This is nice.”

“I’ll hop into the shower now.” Kek disappeared behind Bakura.

Bakura kept his eyes closed and relaxed. He heard the water turn on, then a few minutes later off, but didn’t bother opening his eyes until he felt Kek’s bodyweight displace the water in the tub.

“It’s nice, right?”

“Sure is.” Kek sighed.

“After today, we both deserve a bath.” Bakura stared at the ceiling. Water stains bloomed like yellow carnations

“I made rice.”

“Sounds freaking delicious.”

“We still don’t have towels.”

“I’ll use a shirt.”

Kek laughed. Bakura grinned and shifted so that he could look at Kek instead of the ceiling. “I’m serious. It won’t work as well, but fuck it? Better than dripping over the rest of the carpet.”

“You’re the same as always.” Kek rose out of the water.

“How do you mean?” Bakura averted his eyes, although he really wanted to stare at the way the water gleamed off of Kek’s body.

“Even when things don’t go according to plan, you just roll with it.”

“Ha, yeah. I had to learn that skill pretty early on. It’s the only way I survived.”

“Pffft, I’ll get some shirts then.”

Kek went away and returned with two of their more worn t-shirts. They did a piss-poor job drying, but Bakura made do and put on dry clothes. He used the wet shirt to wrap up his hair, adding a hair dryer to his mental list of shit they needed to buy.

“I’ll serve the rice.” Kek walked onto the now dry kitchen floor and grabbed their only two bowls out of the dishwasher. “There’s still bubbles in here.”

“Just rinse them off. I think we may actually have a dish towel left.”

“Fuck. I forgot dishtowels even exist.” Kek pulled the drawer and took one of the smaller towels out.

“I’m going to put the laundry in the dryer.”

Bakura shook his head even as he moved over to the washer. More and more he was adapting to regular life, but it was still odd to think about putting towels in the dryer. Not only was it the sort of thing he used to make Ryou deal with, but there hadn’t been dryers in Egypt thousands of years ago. Bakura would just wash his clothes in the river and nap naked in the sun until they were dry.

“Here’s dinner.” Kek set the bowls on the table.

He took the little cup and popped off the plastic lid, dumping the water into the bowl. The beta swirled like a quick flame before righting himself and breaking the surface for a breath.

“They breath air from the top.” Bakura pointed. “And they blow nests out of bubbles.”

“How do you know?”

“Granny rambles about them all the time.” Bakura started digging into his food. “It’s good.”

“Fucking liar. We don’t even have salt.”

Bakura laughed. “You’re right. I was lying. It’s not bad.”

“Makes it real, right?”

“Yes.” Bakura winked. “The Shadow Realm knows I love steak. It’d never try to tempt me with plain rice. This moment is utterly real.”