#my body has just decided that every minor inconvenience is a reason to sound the alarm. ALL the alarms

[thebirdandhersong]

perpetually annoyed at how weak my constitution has become

[kyuuppi]

help, my boyfriend has no sex drive! (2)

Pairing: Kenma x reader (f)

Contents: smut; masturbation; oral sex (f receiving); fingering; voyeurism; premature ejaculation; cumming untouched; cumming in pants; hair pulling; Kenma low-key has both a superiority and inferiority kink?; virginity kink; Kenma’s budding sex addiction LOL; established relationship

Word Count: 3.6k

Part 1 || Part 3 || Part 4

Kenma sighs as he checks the time again while mindlessly tapping away at a mobile game. There are still nearly ten minutes before class starts, the wait a minor inconvenience only heightened by the fact today happens to be the day Kenma accidentally left for class earlier than he meant to. 

Waiting for a few minutes in a classroom alone was fine, however, it seemed several other students had also arrived early, putting him on edge. Several students sat in spread-out clusters, talking to their friends in hushed whispers. 

The moment Kenma arrived, he immediately took out his phone and headphones in an attempt to look busy and minimize the already slim chances of anyone talking to him. Although his social skills have certainly improved since high school, he is still an introvert who prefers not to socialize outside of streams if he doesn’t have to.

Mere seconds before he can defeat the pixelated boss on his screen, an email notification pops up with the name of his professor. He clicks it immediately to open the message, a few other students seeming to do the same on their own devices. 

Dear Students of ENC4038, 

I apologize for the late notice but I am feeling under the weather and unable to make it today. Class for today is canceled and your essay deadline will be extended accordingly. 

Best, 

Dr. Yanai

Several groans immediately fill the room as students vocalize their complaints of wasted time and last-minute announcements. Kenma releases his own small huff of annoyance before slinging his bag over his shoulder and making his way out of the classroom. Outside, safe from the prying eyes of his peers, he feels much more comfortable.

The trip back to the apartment is short, a mere five minutes of walking with a short train ride in between, one of the benefits of living in a metropolis. On the train, he had briefly considered messaging you that he was on his way, perhaps even asking if you would like him to pick anything up for you from the store. In the end, he decided against it, figuring his presence would just be a little surprise. You are probably busy anyway, studying for your own classes and whatnot like the diligent student you are.

The moment he steps into the apartment he is greeted by the warmth of the heater, a welcome change to the chilly October winds outside. He removes his bag and toes off his shoes, golden eyes darting around the vacant living room as he notes your lack of presence at the coffee table where you usually study. You’re probably in the bedroom, he reasons, maybe treating yourself to a nice nap.

He quietly shuffles towards the cracked door in the back, hoping not to disturb your sleep while attempting to check on you. However, a few steps before he can reach the door, he hears a distinct sound. He immediately stills, not even daring to breathe as he listens in.

Maybe he imagined it, he reasons, maybe it was that one persistent neighborhood cat outside—then it comes again, this time loud and clear. Unmistakable.

Your moans.

Kenma swears he feels every cell in his body buzzing to life, his sympathetic nervous system activated and ready for fight or flight. It is at that moment that his brain very unhelpfully reminds him, in vivid detail, of the events that had taken place just several weeks ago. Events that involved you, on your knees, with your pretty, soft lips wrapped around his—

Kenma derails that train of thought before can add to his already mounting list of problems, particularly the one in his pants. 

He takes a deep breath to calm himself, closing his eyes to allow himself to focus on assessing the situation. He is in his apartment—the apartment he shares with you—but you are unaware he is home and the chances that you are currently pleasuring yourself just beyond the door he stands in front of are high, astronomically so. 

Despite his low sex drive, masturbation is not a foreign concept to him. Occasionally he has his own urges, especially in the early years of high school when his hormones were at their peak. He had always dealt with them reluctantly, like a chore, and only when he was absolutely sure his family was out of the house or you were at class, far from the apartment. 

What is a foreign concept to him, however, is you masturbating. 

The two of you have lived together for nearly six months now and have dated for even longer. He assumed he had more or less seen every aspect of your habits and routines and you, his. He has seen you dressed in nothing but a towel, fresh out of the shower. He has seen your unwashed face and tangled hair first thing in the morning. He knows what time you usually wake up on the weekends and how many hours you can spend lazing around on the couch binging YouTube video essays. 

He thought he knew everything there was to know about what you do in your day-to-day life—but based on the salacious sounds coming from your shared bedroom now, it seems he still has much to learn. 

He should probably leave. 

The thought immediately strikes him as the most logical next course of action. Although you are the most confident person he knows, rarely keeping secrets or shying away from anything sexual (memories of that night threaten to distract him again but he holds fast), the fact you are doing this at the time he is usually in class is enough of a sign that this is a private affair you do not want him to be a part of. 

He knows this and he respects your privacy but…

He doesn’t move a centimeter. 

A distant part of Kenma’s brain recalls stories of Pandora’s box: the prospect of knowledge so tempting that even the wisest men can’t resist. The rest of his brain imagines you. He is suddenly so deeply curious: what exactly are you doing to yourself? What types of scenarios are you thinking about while your hands move across your body, touching yourself in familiar motions you’ve learned from years of self-exploration? Are you even using your hands or do you have devices? 

Are you thinking about him? 

Kenma’s breath hitches at the thought. You, someone lightyears ahead of him in terms of experience, someone who has so casually touched him in ways he hadn’t even imagined before—is it possible for you to think of him doing things like that to you? Do you have some vision of him, one much more familiar with a woman’s body than his true self, that lives in your imagination and only comes forth in your times of need to satisfy you in all the ways you desire most?

The thought should probably make him insecure, maybe a little jealous, but instead, it only fuels his curiosity even further and he is stepping forward before he can stop himself.

In a video game, it is important to know your opponent. You read guides and tips from other players, learning the enemy’s weaknesses and what weapons are strongest against them. 

This is no different, Kenma reasons. He should know what it takes to win, to provide for you the pleasure you so selflessly gave him before. 

It’s the “good boyfriend” thing to do, he reasons as he presses his hand to the door, gently widening the crack just enough to peer inside. 

The sight that greets him punches the air from his lungs. He thinks even his most creative imaginations could not have prepared him for this view of you so dutifully pleasuring yourself. 

The first thing his eyes land on is your face. Your eyes are squeezed shut tightly and brows slightly pinched in what he can only assume is the result of equal parts pleasure and concentration. Your cheeks are flushed and your soft lips parted to release soft pants and the occasional moan. The signs of exertion on your features make him realize you must have been doing this for a while and the thought sends a jolt of pleasure straight to his own groin. 

Greedily, his eyes rake down your body, noting the thin sheen of sweat on your skin and how you seem to have so generously stripped yourself completely bare in preparation for your session. Some slightly darker part of his mind suggests perhaps you wanted him to find you like this. But that’s totally impossible, he tells himself, there’s no way you would have known that his class would be canceled and he would be home early. But the idea still excited him.

Finally, his heated gaze moves further south until it lands on the space between your thighs where your hands move diligently. Your right hand rests on top of your pelvis, allowing your middle finger to circle your clit incessantly while your left hand is lower, nearly obscuring his view as you work your index and middle fingers in and out of yourself at a rapid pace. 

Your fingers are wet, glistening with your juices, and now that the door is open wider, he realizes he can hear the soft squelching that accompanies your actions. Kenma thinks it's his new favorite sound. 

His golden eyes remain locked on your wet pussy, taking in the movements of you fingering yourself open, motions practiced and smooth like a well-oiled machine even as the muscles of your inner thighs tremble and incomprehensible mumbles leave your lips. 

Kenma is vaguely aware of the fact he’s completely hard now as he stands at the doorway watching you like a creep but he can’t be bothered to care when the only thoughts running through his mind are if you’re going to cum soon and if so how pretty of a mess your little pussy is going to make all over your sheets–the sheets you both sleep on every night.

He is so hyper-focused on the sight of you fingering yourself that he fails to notice when your soft mewls halt with a much sharper gasp. What he does notice, however, is that your hands have stopped moving, fingers stock still halfway inside of you. For a moment he wonders if you’ve reached your orgasm but his body seems to catch up much faster than his thoughts. His head snaps up to find your own wide eyes staring back at him, cheeks now flushed in much more than just pleasure. 

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You stare each other down like two equally afraid small animals, not even daring to breathe. You come to your senses much quicker and withdraw your hands, snapping your legs shut.

“K-Kenma, I didn’t know you were—I’m sorry—” 

You’re flustered, stumbling over words as your hands fumble for the blanket to cover yourself up. It is a surprise to him. The same girl who was so daringly on her knees to pleasure him in the middle of a livestream is now apologizing for him watching her private moment, uninvited. He doesn’t like this, he realizes. He doesn’t like you looking so embarrassed and ashamed—he much preferred the shameless vixen from before. 

Before you can properly cover yourself, Kenma is taking steps towards the bed, not stopping until he is hovering at the edge, centimeters from your bare feet. You look up at him in question. You expected him to leave the room, uncomfortable, once you saw him. You have no idea how long he had been there, standing in the doorway—but you think it couldn’t have been long. 

Your boyfriend has no sex drive, no interest in sex, and certainly no interest in seeing you masturbating on your shared bed like some shameless, horny teenager. You can’t imagine that he would have been actually watching you. 

You expect him to scurry away with flushed cheeks. You expect him to murmur a few apologies. You expect him to refuse to meet your eyes or acknowledge it for the next month and a half. What you do not expect are the words that actually fall from his lips as he stares steadily down at you. 

“Can I return the favor now?” 

His gaze doesn’t waver as he watches the plethora of emotions flicker across your face. You very obviously were not expecting him to be so forward, but he can tell by the recognition in your eyes that you know exactly what he is referring to. 

You hesitate, and for a brief moment, he feels his heart being gripped by anxiety. What if he was too forward? What if he read the situation wrong? Just because you did that to him once doesn’t necessarily mean you’re ready or want him to do anything to you.

Before he can get too caught up in his own thoughts and start apologizing for even suggesting it, you give him a small nod. 

He wastes no time. 

Kenma drops to his knees on the bed, the motion gently rocking your body on the mattress. His warm, slightly sweaty hands take one knee in each and he briefly looks up at you again just to make sure before you give your consent and he’s gently prying your legs apart. 

That captivating sight between your thighs is revealed to him once again and he swears he feels himself starting to salivate. Somehow, it looks even better up close. 

Kenma doesn’t even realize he’s staring, hands frozen at their spot on your knees, until you speak. 

“Touch me, Kenma,” you nearly whine.

He swallows thickly and follows your request without hesitation. Kenma is fairly certain he would do anything you told him to do if you said it in that soft, airy voice you just used.

His hands slowly slide down your inner thighs, gentle against the smooth skin. Your skin prickles into goosebumps under his touch and it makes him feel slightly less insecure about how clammy he knows his hands are. 

His left hand stills on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your center, while his right hand makes the first move. 

He merely brushes the outside of your labia with his thumb at first, slightly in awe at just how soft every part of you feels. 

He’s hyper-aware of your responses as well. The way your muscles slightly tremble and twitch under his touches does not escape him. With each reaction from you, he feels a little more confident. He moves his thumb over, just lightly swiping at the pink nub peeking out from between your folds, still sticky from your previous activities. 

The reaction he receives from that is the best one yet. 

Your thigh tenses under his left hand while your hips buck, a needy mewl escaping your lips. Kenma quickly realizes he wants to see more. He wants to see every reaction your body has to offer him and memorize what types of touches you like the most. 

More confident, Kenma slides his left hand down, hooking his thumbs into the plush skin of your folds only to pull them apart, revealing your rosy depths to his gaze. Thin strings of your arousal briefly stretch with the movement, connecting your parted folds before promptly breaking off.

His eyes slip closed as he dips down to have a taste.

The moment his hot tongue connects with your sensitive skin, you’re throwing your head back into the pillows, back arching with a moan. Without thinking, one of your hands reaches down to weave into his dark roots. 

He moves his tongue slowly up and down your slit at first, interested in just savoring your unique taste. After a few swipes his focus is back on your pleasure and he focuses his tongue on the small hole. He swirls around it a few times, enjoying the way it twitches, clenching and unclenching around nothing as if begging him to enter–and who is he to turn down such a generous invitation?

He presses in firmly, met with little resistance as his wet appendage slides inside. Your grip on his hair tightens, nearly painful, but it only encourages him further, thrashing inside of you and slurping messily as he enjoys the sounds of your mewls. His tongue moves without rhythm, simply exploring the new territory. 

The unpredictability keeps you on high alert, sensitive to his touch in a way you could never achieve just on your own. Virgin or not, Kenma reminds you how much he hates to lose with every lash of his tongue.

Your hand not buried in his locks slides down your body to reach your neglected nub but the moment you make contact, he is pulling back and pushing your hand away. You whine, fully ready to chastise your boyfriend for stopping his ministrations but he is going back in before you can complain.

This time his lips attach to the nub you had been so desperate to play with earlier. The squeal of his name makes his head rush with a surge of pride. 

“You taste so good,” he mumbles against your skin.

The vibrations send waves of pleasure that have your hips stuttering in his hold and you nearly choke on your own tongue when he pushes his middle finger inside of you without warning. The digit sinks down to the knuckle, your gummy walls greedily sucking him in. 

He wastes no time pumping the digit in and out of you, taking note of the different sounds you can make. He savors the gasp that escapes your lips when he pushes in a second finger, the whines when he twists the digits inside of you and, most of all, the high-pitched squeals when he adjusts the angle of his thrusts to hit a particularly soft spot deep inside of you. 

Your brain feels as if it is absolute mush and you can not find it in yourself to care about the trail of drool steadily escaping your lips and staining the pillow beneath your head. 

Kenma does not fare much better. 

With each rock of your hips and soft sighs of his name, Kenma finds his own hips desperately moving, grinding shamelessly against the mattress. His own cock is leaking, leaving his sweatpants feeling messy but he hardly cares when he feels how your pussy is tightening so mercilessly around his fingers, clit throbbing against his tongue. 

The heat in your stomach reaches a fevered pitch and your legs reflexively clamp down around the eager head between your thighs. Every part of your body seems to be squeezing him—your fist in his hair threatening to rip the strands from the roots, your thighs nearly crushing his skull, and your slick cavern squeezing his fingers so hard he can barely move them. He feels as if he might die like this, trapped between your legs. He doesn’t mind a bit, he realizes, he can’t think of a better way to go. 

“K-Kenma—ah—I’m gonna cum…!” 

The announcement only motivates him to redouble his efforts, lips sucking at your clit harshly while his fingers piston inside of you, fighting the resistance of your tight heat. 

With a final cry, you fall over the edge. Your vision momentarily swimming as every cell in your body seems overcome with a wave of white-hot pleasure. Kenma’s own hips stutter at your voice, reaching his own messy end in his pants as he helps you ride out your orgasm. 

His movements become gentle, your spasming insides massaging his fingers until your legs weakly start kicking at him. You have become too sensitive, even his lightest touches make your hips jolt. He pulls away obediently, mouth releasing your clit with a soft 'pop' as he slides his drenched fingers out of you.

The two of you spend a few minutes in silence aside from soft pants as you catch your breath and organize your thoughts. 

Kenma vaguely realizes the air feels completely different now that his brain is no longer clouded by lust. The desperation and shamelessness are gone—and yet something else has changed too, something bigger. 

Kenma recognizes the newfound confidence within himself. While he was never insecure about your relationship per se, there had always been an invisible barrier he never dared to cross—like the boundary in game. He assumed he was not coded for things like this and thus never explored the possibility.

But now...now he knows it is not only possible but rather fun as well. He never imagined it was possible to experience pleasure just from pleasuring someone else. 

Excitement fills him—this is only the first time, surely there will be an infinite number of “next times” in the future, each of which will be slightly different. Maybe he can get you to cum with just his tongue. Maybe he can use more fingers. Maybe your body can be bent in different positions so he can better reach that spot deep inside of you that makes you let out such pretty sounds. Maybe he can use something else in you, something bigger and harder and more than eager to experience that tight heat he felt on his fingers—

For the first time, Kenma thinks real life may be more fun than a video game.

[narutogwriting]

Ruin the Friendship

⋇✦ Pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x Reader

⋇✦ Genre: angst; fluff; oneshot

⋇✦ CW: none

⋇✦ Length: 2.5k+

⋇✦ @gaarasandpit just a angst/fluff naruto x reader request if you’re up for it 🥰 maybe where the reader and him are somewhat close friends and he notices she’s drifting from him because her feelings get in the way? he’s oblivious and hurt about it then confrontation happens ending up in a good old love confession

“Cmon! Open up!” Naruto called from outside your house, pounding on the door like he had been incessantly for the past five minutes. “I know you’re in there!”

He did not, in fact, know whether or not you were in there, but he couldn’t imagine where else you would be.

All week you’d been missing; Naruto couldn’t find you anywhere. Sometimes he would see the flick of your hair from the corner of his eye or his ears would pick up the sound of your laugh, but by the time he turned to find you, you’d be gone.

Your absence in Naruto’s life wasn’t something of a minor inconvenience; it was a constant pain, as if he was missing a part of his own body. Iruka had joked that Naruto missing you was akin to that of a phantom limb, like there was something of him that should be there and it wasn’t and he ached because of it.

“No, Naruto. We haven’t seen her,” Shikamaru shrugged. Ino nodded her agreement.

“Sorry. Maybe she’s on a mission or something.

Naruto frowned, sighing in frustration. “Alright, well, thanks.” He muttered before he sulked off. Shikamaru and Ino watched him go, waiting until he disappeared before Ino gave you a kick under the table.

“Ow!” you whined as you crawled out from underneath, rubbing your shoulder.

Ino rolled her eyes at you. “You’re lucky Naruto’s an idiot, or he definitely would have seen you.” She told you as you slid yourself down into the seat next to her. “Remind me: why are you avoiding him again?”

Propping your elbows on the table, you rested your head in your hands as you gave a forlorn sigh. That was a loaded question. You were avoiding Naruto because the absolute worse thing that could ever occur had happened.

You’d fallen in love with the idiot blond.

And how could you not? You’d been best friends with Naruto for the longest time. He was a constant in your life, always at your side. It was rare that one of you was seen without the other.

There was no one in the entire world that could make you smile or laugh the way that he could. Whenever you were sad or hurt, he always had the words to make it all better. Naruto had the type of smile that could save people, and you were no exception. There wasn’t a person in the world that could meet someone with a heart like Naruto’s and not walk away changed.

It had been a slow thing, a soft, unsure growing. It wasn’t a feeling you’d recognized at all once, because you always loved Naruto.

It wasn’t totally strange for you to get excited when you saw him or miss him when he was gone. It wasn’t unusual to think about him before you went to sleep.

But when you began to wake up and your first thought was, “my god he’s beautiful” when you looked at the picture of the two of you on your night stand, that was a little strange. You never used to spend extra time in the morning doing your makeup when you knew you were going to see him soon.

And you never used to blush when he smiled at you. Even you could tell you laughed a little too hard when he said something even remotely funny.

It was one day when the two of you were taking a walk that it happened. He was telling you a story, his motions large and exaggerated. Of course, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. As he turned to you, arms raised high over his head, his foot hit a rock. Naruto went sprawling to the floor, rolling across the ground and landing flat on his back.

You burst out laughing at the scene, hurrying to kneel at his side. “Are you okay!?” You asked him between giggles.

Naruto’s face was bright red with embarrassment as he laid on the floor. He looked up at you, smiling sheepishly. “Oops…”

It was such a simple thing, but you’d looked at Naruto and thought, “I love him so much.”

Nothing had ever startled you more.

Of course you loved Naruto; that was a given. It was never anything that needed to be thought or said. It was just a fact. But as soon as you had thought the words, you knew that it was different this time. You didn’t just love Naruto.

You were in love with him.

You’d hoped that the feelings would fade. Maybe it was just a fluke or a passing crush. Day in and day out, you waited for your feelings to go back to normal, but now that you’d acknowledged them, they only seemed to grow stronger. It got to the point where you couldn’t even look at naruto without turning into a blushing mess. It was pathetic.

So you’d decided there was only one reasonable solution: you would have to avoid him for as long as it took for the feelings to go away.

And of course you didn’t want to stay away from him. Being with him was as natural as breathing. But the way you saw it, if he found out about your feelings, your friendship could be ruined forever. This way, you could take some space, move on, and resume your friendship like nothing happened.

But Naruto wasn’t making that easy.

You hadn’t realized just how much time you and Naruto spent together until you were trying to distance yourself from him. He was everywhere. Every meal, every free moment, he was by your side or trying to be at least.

“Wanna go eat?” “Wanna go train with me?” “Let’s watch a movie!” “I heard there’s gonna be a festival in the next town over!”

You couldn’t get away from him. So this past week, you’d taken to hiding from him every time you saw him, deciding it was easiest to just avoid him completely. In all honesty, you couldn’t believe just how much time and effort Naruto was putting in to trying to find you.

But of course he was putting in effort. Because you were his best friend and he couldn’t understand it; where you’d gone or why you weren’t talking to him. Had he done something wrong? Were you mad at him or something? Your absence in Naruto’s life was drawing out every insecurity he hadn’t even realized he still had. He was worried, drowning in anxiety.

What if you’d decided you didn’t want to be his friend anymore? Maybe you were annoyed with him, found him to be too much. When you and Naruto had first become friends, he thought it was too good to be true. There was no way that someone as nice and pretty and cool as you would want to be friends with him. No one had ever wanted to be his friend before.

But there you were with your sweet smile and calming presence. You had accepted Naruto, every piece of him, without question or reservation. You meant everything to him, so the thought of losing you had sent Naruto into a panic.

You’d managed to avoid Naruto for a full week and a half. The past three days, as far as you knew, he hadn’t even made an effort to find you. It was a relief and heartbreaking all at once. You needed your space, but it hurt to think that maybe Naruto didn’t miss you at all anymore.

These were the thoughts racing through your head when you crawled into bed that night. You doubted you’d be getting much sleep; you’d barely gotten any since you had started avoiding Naruto.

Pulling the covers over yourself, you closed your eyes and tried to get comfortable. It seemed like hours you laid there awake before tiredness finally started to drift over you. You could feel yourself slowly dozing off to sleep when a sudden loud noise startled you awake. Sitting up quickly, your eyes darted to the window where the noise had come from.

Naruto had forcefully pried open the window, shoving himself not-so-gracefully through the opening and crashing onto the floor.

He quickly jumped to his feet, rubbing his head with a small wince before his eyes landed on you, widening slightly.

“Ah ha! I got you!” He shouted victoriously, pointing his finger in your direction. “You can’t hide from me anymore, believe it!”

God, he was too cute for words and that was exactly the problem. Your heart practically burst just looking at him as he appeared so accomplished and excited.

But the triumphant look on his face slowly vanished as he stared at you. When he spoke, his voice came out quietly, dripping with dejection. “Where have you been?”

Quietness settled over the room as the two of you stared at each other. Naruto made no move to get closer to you, and you likewise stayed strapped in your seat. “I’m sorry…” You offered weakly, unsure of what else to say.

“Don’t be sorry!” Naruto snapped, anger quickly replacing his despaired features. “Tell me why! What the hell? You think you can just avoid a guy? Cut me off like I’m nothing to you!?” He was trembling, his usual happy grin twisted into a broken grimace so despondent it took you off guard. You had caused that hurt that Naruto was feeling. The thought made you sick.

“If you don’t want to be my friend anymore, at least say something!” Naruto spat. “Don’t just run from me like a coward! If you have something to say, say it to my face!”

There was a harsh edge to Naruto’s voice that he never used with you before. Not in all of your years of friendship. You realized suddenly just how badly you’d hurt Naruto by avoiding him. It wasn’t something you’d considered; you’d only wanted some space so you could get back to normal with him.

But you saw it clearly now, the damage that you had done. Suddenly, in this moment, he was the lonely, isolated child that he had been before you met, feeling alone and abandoned in the world. And this time, it was because of you.

The regret was like bile on your tongue, and you wished fiercely that you could take back the past week and do it differently. You couldn’t stand the thought that it was you who had caused this damage to your best friend, the guy you loved so much.

You didn’t have any words to fix it. All you had was the truth.

“I love you.”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could pull them back in. And once they were out, they couldn’t be taken back.

Confusion quickly settled on Naruto’s face. It was as if you could see the anger dissipate from his body. He stared at you, mouth slightly agape, while he tried to process what you’d just said. “You… What?”

Turning bright red, you pulled the blanket back over your head in embarrassment. You couldn’t believe you’d just said that! Now there would never be any going back to the way that things were, but you had to tell him. You couldn’t just let him think that you were cutting him off without reason.

“I said I love you…” You muttered from under the blanket. “I’m in love with you, Naruto. I have been for a while now, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. So I thought if I just took some space and didn’t see you for a while, then maybe I would get over it, and then we could just keep things the way they were…”

It was much easier to get the words out when you were under the blanket and couldn’t see him, but you were still nauseous with anxiety as you told him how you felt. Your heart was steeling itself for rejection as you waited for his response.

The only noise was shuffling as Naruto came to your bed. You could feel the indent as he sat down next to you. He grabbed your blanket, slowly peeling it off of you and despite your reluctance, you let him.

You didn’t look at him as you pushed yourself back up into a sitting position. You’d never been so embarrassed before.

“Did it work?” He asked you quietly.

Fidgeting with the hem of your night shirt, you mumbled, “Did what work?”

“Are you over me?”

The question took you off guard, lingering between the two of you, and you couldn’t help but flicker your eyes to his. He was staring earnestly at you with those wide blue eyes you loved so much. You wanted to lie to him but you just couldn’t.

“No.”

Naruto’s focused expression stretched into a wide grin as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you to him. You were too startled to respond, so you just stared at him, confused, instead.

“You scared me!” Naruto laughed happily as he rested his cheek against your head. “I thought you didn’t want to be my friend anymore! You didn’t have to completely avoid me, ya know.”

There was a mix of relief and disappointment at his reaction. So, he wasn’t weirded out about your confession? Things didn’t have to change. The two of you could stay ‘just friends.’

“So, we’re okay?” You asked him nervously. “We’re still friends?”

Naruto gave a puzzled hum as he pulled away from the hug to stare at you. He raised his eyebrow as he studied you for a moment. You could almost see the light bulb go off above his head as he realized.

“Oh!” He laughed, grinning sheepishly and rubbing his neck. “I guess I forgot to tell you it back, huh? I thought it was obvious! I love you too, believe it!”

You blinked as he giggled embarrassedly, that signature smile of his on his lips. “Naruto!” You snapped at him, lunging and knocking you both off the bed. He landed on his back with you on top of him as you rubbed your fist into his head. “You dummy!”

“Hey! Cut it out!” Naruto whined, squirming under your touch. “Is that any way to treat your boyfriend!?”

The question was enough to make you stop, your mouth frozen in a surprised “o” shape, just like he hoped. He laughed, sitting up and holding you to him before he placed a happy kiss to your cheek, making your face flush over red.

You placed your hands on his shoulders, looking at him as it finally sunk in what he said. He loved you too. He called himself your boyfriend. “Is that your way of asking me?” You questioned.

Naruto nodded earnestly. “And my way to get you to stop giving me a noogie! It’s a win win! Well, if you say yes, that is…”

Shaking your head, you laughed as your whole body softened in relief. Your arms slipped around his neck as you hugged him tightly. “Yes, obviously!” You told him. “Yes! I love you.” Naruto hugged you back just as fiercely. When he finally pulled away, he didn’t hesitate. His hand reached up to cup your cheek as he leaned forward, pressing a sweet, soft kiss to your lips.

Well, you guessed your friendship was officially ruined. But suddenly, you didn’t mind so much.

[ellsbclls]

you write hurt/comfort so beautifully, it makes me want to have tom comfort me like that ): do u think you could write something where he's taking care of you after a long day at work?? and if it's a little nsfw i wouldn't mind but u dont have to do anything ur not comfortable with. again L O V E ur work!!

thank you so much 🥺 i guess i just try to portray a type of love i think everyone deserves! but also thank you for giving me this idea because my mind went rampant. i also don’t know why the reader is a musician, but just roll with it i guess idk what happened there??? 

i hope this tickles your fancy! nsfw, so extended warnings will be under the cut! please do not interact if you're a minor!!

extended warnings: cue fingering, and some messy, needy sex in the bathtub 🛁✨

The steam rising from the bathtub makes light work of your weary muscles, menthol vapors kissing up your spine, soothing the knots scattered across the length of your back. You were in dire need of this, after the plight of a day you’d endured. A couple of hours in the studio had quickly spiraled into a six hour-session, with nothing to show for it but a lousy sixteen measures of brass ensembles — and by the good grace of your talent and patience, the artist has requested you drop in for their session again.

The thought makes you want to drown.

Instead, you opt to curl into yourself, softly pressing your cheek into your knee, watching the spindles of warmth waft up from your well earned bubble bath. In retrospect, the weight of your day didn’t fall solely on this new client — if you’re being honest, they actually had a lot of potential. You wouldn’t mind having your name tethered to a couple of their hits — but Tom had just returned home from a three month long shoot, and you’ve only been graced the luxury of his presence for less than 24 hours. Any time that isn’t being spent with him feels blasphemous, but since he has yet to return from his unknown whereabouts, you seized the opportunity to flush out as much irritability as possible before he returned.

You didn’t know just how tired you were until you were woken up.

A half an hour passes before you’re tousled from your dreamless slumber by a docile touch, familiar digits scaling the curve of your spine before they take a detour at the nape of your neck, carefully parting stray strands of hair to either side of your frame.

“Tom?” You hum, dulcet tones wafting through the steam akin to a dream as it ebbs from the rim of your subconscious.

“Yes, darling?” He muses, entranced by the frothy remnants of your bath soak as he dips his fingertips into the water.

“I missed you today.” You melt into his touch, allowing your head to fall to the side and survey his attire. His hair is all tousled, chestnut locks sprouting from the bottom of his backwards strewn baseball cap, and those honey-dipped hues you adore so much are creased with concern. You want nothing more than to soothe them away with the pad of your thumb, and so you indulge yourself, reaching over the edge of the tub as you continue to ramble. “I started the day already praying for it to be over with, and somehow, every single inconvenience fathomable decided to fall onto my lap. I mean — who the fuck needs seven different french horn tracks in an overture? A real band barely needs one.” Tom’s nodding along to your ramblings, but you both know that he doesn’t fully under the lengths of your frustration — just as you’ll never truly understand the inner workings of his own career. “The only thing keeping me together was the thought of coming home to you.”

“I’m so sorry, my love,” He coos, and continues to caress your back, working out all of the knots that the steam couldn’t relieve. “If it’s any consolation, I was only running late because I had to stop and buy some pancetta on the way home.”

“Don’t apologize. I assumed you would be back since all your stuff is still here.” You tease, mirroring his bemused smile, letting his world seep into your slowly booting brain. “Pancetta…” Not many people knew this, not even Tom before his first attempt, but the boy could whip up a mean bowl of pasta. You remember floundering across the bed the night before, identical to a little kid throwing a tantrum, moaning over just how badly you were craving carbonara. Silly of you to think that he’d take your melodramatic request in stride. “Are you-“

His enamored gaze is answer enough, but he pairs it with a chaste kiss to your forehead that has you nuzzling into his touch. “Only the best for my lil’ lady.”

You show a mere fraction of your appreciation with a swift, flurry of kisses over his cheekbones, pulling him closer by the downy bundles of his hoodie. Lovedrunk giggles and contented sighs bounce off the tiles before you’re both submerged in a comfortable silence, one that leaves the both of you free to shamelessly examine the other, one clad in their comfy, weatherworn disguise while the other dawns nothing but an enchanted smile. Even with the disparity between your attire, you both end up with flushed cheeks and dopey grins.

Hours, days, years seem to press on until you break the silence with a silly question, one that you ask in hopes of hearing his gentle, candied voice once more — or even better, his laugh. “What would you do if I was as big as a thumbtack? Would you still love me?” You query, a childlike sense of wonderment tinting your sugar-coated sigh.

He takes a second to ponder your questions, taking it into far more consideration than you had in bringing it to fruition. You can’t stifle the tiny puff of air that leaves your lips, the semblance of a chuckle, and Tom, with his wild brow and theatrical ways, whips his head in your direction, sending you a cautionary glare. “I suppose I would…” He starts, only to tap his finger against his bottom lip, drawing the suspense to its boiling point by the time you shove his forearm. “But then again, it doesn’t matter what size you are, there’s no limit to how much I love you.”

“Hmm,” you manage to vocalize. Your heart is now a star, an incandescent ball of fire caged beneath your ribs, and if he hasn’t gathered it by now, then he can bask in the warmth of your smile and know that for him, for him it is the sun.

You have to admit that you got ahead of yourself. One moment, you were binding your lips in a bruising, indulgent union, urging him to bask in the lovelorn rays of light he summoned, but only managing to pull him into the bathtub, fully clothed and unsuspecting. What was once your lukewarm oasis is suddenly a swirling cauldron of spearmint, teatree, and now unmistakable notes of him, sloshing against the edge of the tub as his frame struggles against the latent tide. There’s bound to be one hell of a mess waiting on the bathroom floor, but now that he’s settled in your grasp, you see no reason to fret just yet.

“Y/N.” His voice is deadpan, which can mean one of two things — he’s either overwhelmed with joy, or exhibiting a great deal of restraint in not drowning you right then and there. You choose to cancel out the latter, and offer the best attempt at innocence your babydoll eyes could muster, peering at him through your lashes with a teeth-rotting gleam.

“What?” You ask simply. His eye starts to twitch, and you only double down on your facade. “I just wanted to be closer to you.” Wading through the newly shallow body of water, half of its contents now dispersed across the tile floor, you make light work of his soggy hoodie, sloughing it over his head as he grumbles beneath it, giggling when it catches against that razor-sharp jawline of his.

“Well, you are very close now.” You notice how his voice drops down an octave, and you’re embarrassed to admit just how quickly the coil in your stomach tightens at the sound of it, how it already aches to be pulled taut. 

Tom seems unsuspecting enough when he captures your lips once again, his brims as delicate as baby’s breath against your own, tentative as they glide in a sultry dance. He doesn’t need to coax a confession out of you, the truth is already there, nestled in your urgent, needy pressure, in the whimpers threatening to spill into his lips. He’ll indulge in this little game for a moment longer — where you pretend that you aren’t desperate for his touch, and he pretends that he isn’t just as desperate to provide it — but once you fumble into his lap, clumsily grasping for more, and more, and even more of him, his resolve begins to crumble.

“I need you.” you whisper into the hollow of his mouth, golden-tongued and virtually earnest, coaxing a trembling sigh from the back of his throat.

He hums back, contented, basking in the intoxicating warmth of your silhouette, tracing the curve of your breasts with his knuckles. “Long day, my love?”

“Mhmm,” You demonstrate your point with a wistful sigh,  enveloping his great hands with your smaller ones, coating them in languid kisses until there was no skin left untouched.

You’re just too fucking cute, he muses. He can never say no to you, not even in jest.

Two of his slender digits roam the valley of your stomach, knuckles ghosting over your navel in their listless descent before they venture between your thighs, surveying just how badly you really need him. He dips his middle finger between your folds, tender and slick with your arousal, and emits a husky groan as he traces a steady line between your entrance and the spot just below your clit, ghosting your little bundle of nerves with each taunting caress. “You’re already soaked, my love. This all for me?” He coos, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss against the column of your neck.

“All for you,” You sigh, digging your nails into the broad planes of his shoulder. “Please, Tom, please touch me.”

He finally spares you, thumb sloppily circling your clit as he plunges two digits into your opening, welcoming the lithe intrusion with a warm, velvety embrace. You slump into his embrace, nipples straining hard against the soaked fabric of his t-shirt, and raggedly whimper as he starts to work you open. The reminder of your nude form plastered against his clothes, albeit soaking wet, summons another pool of wetness to your core. You’re flooded with thoughts of delectable anguish — of denim kissing your hips, dragging against your bundle of nerves, as he ravages your bare little cunt, proving that you’re so desperate for his cock that you can barely wait for him to undress.

“Is this all you needed, baby? My fingers? You wanted me to stretch this pretty little cunt out?” He can’t stop the filthy words tumbling from his lips, especially not when your tiny mewls of pleasure are flooding his ears — you’re just so soft and pliant under his touch, so eager to be filled to the brim, it’s intoxicating to know that you’ll take anything he has to offer you. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m gonna give you everything you need. Gonna have you spilling all over my fingers and then — fuck! — then i’m gonna fill you up with my cock. How does that sound?

“Y-yeah,” You’re rutting against his palm at this point, grinding down to meet each thrust, to feel impossibly closer, fuller, ambling toward an orgasm that is already barreling toward you. As he finds a new angle, the pads of his fingers nudge against your g-spot, and the heel of his hand careens over your clit with such a delicious pressure that your thighs begin to quake. “‘M so close.” You whine, prompting him to punctuate each thrust with a curl of his fingers, dragging your orgasm from the pit of your stomach.

“Then let go, baby. Let go for me.” You need no further persuasion, your eyes squeezing shut as you teeter off the edge, with nothing but a raspy, desperate string of obscenities, clawing at the slope of his shoulders, and bathing his hand in sultry waves of nectar as it spills from your weepy little hole. His fingers are trapped between your fluttering walls, working you through your climax with nimble, tentative thrusts, stretching each wave of pleasure out until you’re trembling over little ripples.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” You feel so small beneath his gaze, teeming with endless pools of adoration, like you’re a freshwater clearing and he’s parched. It nearly distracts you from his fingers as they slip from your opening, but each receding wave of bliss is tethered to him, so you groan at the loss of contact. Your walls flutter hopelessly around nothing, chasing the delicious stretch of his digits in their absence, but you’re instantly qualmed by the sound of his zipper being pulled down, no doubt freeing himself from the waterlogged confines of his jeans.

“Can I?” You sink your hands into what little water still remains in the tub, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, but he swats your shaky hands away, adamantly shaking his head as a small frown of confusion forms between your brows. “You don’t wanna take ‘em off?”

“This is about you, my love.” He whispers, his free hand smoothing over the small of your back, stroking the patch of dew-ridden skin with his thumb. “And right now, all I wanna do is keep my promise.”

“You’re so good to me,” You whisper just above his lips, leaning back into his touch, peering between your bodies to survey his ministrations. You’re still a bit dazed from your first, earth-shattering orgasm, but the prospect of another has you buzzing with excitement, and Tom knows that look well enough to speed up his course of action.

Pearly veneers sink into the swell of your bottom lip at the mere sight — his cock is beyond compare. Even as its impatiently pulled through the opening of his jeans, it’s put on a mouth-watering display as he leisurely pumps himself, smearing tiny pearls of precum across his flushed, leaky tip with each upstroke. He’s far too enticing, far too pretty with his rosy cheeked, droopy-eyed charm, to resist, and you’re quick to replace his hand with your own, curling your fingers around the base and mimicking a couple teasing pumps before guiding him to your entrance.

Tom spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate you, the sensation of wet denim rubbing against your thighs, knocking your legs farther apart, causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to align the head of his cock with your entrance, teasing him with a couple of lascivious drags through your folds before you sink onto his length, reigniting the remnants of your last orgasm as inch after delicious inch prods your tender walls apart. By the time he bottoms out, you’re nothing but a trembling pile of limbs, and his lips seek out your own just to muffle your staggered breaths with a burning kiss.

You allow yourself a couple of seconds to adjust — no matter how or which way you take him, he still pushes up every crevice of your insides, demanding every square inch of your velvety heat. A wild flurry of crimson blossoms across the high planes of your cheeks as Tom nuzzles his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing a melodious string of giggles from your chest while you scrunch up your nose. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips and smiles against the spot. “You look so pretty like this, my love. With that gorgeous smile of yours, and that pretty little pussy squeezing my cock.” You feel like you’ve got whiplash, trying to come to terms with how obscene he can be under such tender movements. “Just wanna turn you over and bury myself inside. See how tight you feel when you’re folded in half.” His hands reach down to rub gentle, circular motions into the small of your back, and you can’t help but pulse around him at the juxtaposition.

Once the uncomfortable stretch of his girth melts into pleasure, you finally start to work yourself over his length, and you swear you can feel every gorgeous ridge and vein of his cock as you rise up to the tip, only to plunge back down with a impish yelp, setting a clumsy, needy pace that certainly gets the job done. You don’t really find your rhythm until Tom helps you out, sinking his fingers into the supple curve of your ass, orchestrating a hard, punishing pace as he drives up into your sopping cunt, meeting you in the middle with each thrust.

All at once, the bathroom is washed in a crude symphony, the combination of your heavy panting and slapping skin intermingles with the shallow splash of water as it laps against the edge of the tub, punctuating the sinful drag of his length, and how the tip pounds against your furthest wall as you impale yourself onto him. You can feel another orgasm start to build, and since Tom has made it his solemn vow to not only study, but master, every little, scrumptious detail of your body, he senses it as well. 

“You got another one for me?” He asks between labored pants. His own orgasm is starting to peak over the horizon, following in the blazing trail you’ve set, you can tell by the way a thin sheen of sweat starts to build against his hairline, and his brows almost meet in the middle, as if the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is unfathomable. He uses the grip he has on your waist to take control, using one hand to scale up the breadth of your back, and as his palms leave a blistering trail up, up, up your sides, he pulls you flush against his chest, attempting to plant his feet against the floor of the bathtub, 

He needs the leverage to piston his hips up into your own, to pound into your greedy hole at an unyielding pace — to keep his promise — and as you start to feel the tell tale edge of your climax cresting over your weary frame, you spoil his shoulder with sweeping, butterfly kisses and flood his mind with sweet, sweet nothings, luring him to the brink with the same dulcet tones you know drive him wild.

His hips stutter into your own, and before the words can even exit your lips, you’re dragged to the edge of bliss with a couple of rough, uncompromising thrusts that have you wildly spasming around his length. He joins you almost immediately, throbbing against your sensitive walls as he fills you to the brim, driving the mixture of your arousal further into you as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

Once he pulls out, he’s quick to wrap you up in a soothing embrace, planting kisses over every acre of skin he can get his lips on, but you’re too focused on the trail of cum leaking down your thighs to really indulge him, curiosity getting the better of you as you gently weave your arm between your bodies and collect the wetness on your thighs. You swear you can feel the rumble of his chest once you pop your fingers into your mouth, humming around the sodden digits, making a spectacle out of the addicting elixir pooling on your tongue, but his glimmer of reinvigorated stamina is put to rest by the sight of your drowsy, half-lidded stare.

“Why don’t we get you dried off? Then I can start dinner.” He hums against your cheek, punctuating his suggestion with yet another chaste kiss. It’s genuinely like he can’t get enough, and neither can you as you sleepily nod.

“Will you wake me up when it’s ready?” You sigh, teetering on the edge of slumber once more.

“Of course, my love.”

[sadclearance]

M!reader and hanta sero! toxic toxic manipulative reunion after breakup

how the #26 hero made headlines with his sex tape

pairing: hanta sero x male manipulative reader

summary: hanta sero and y/n meet again after their sex tape is leaked.

warning: sex tape (sero fucking you), manipulative and toxic behavior, implied/referenced past cheating, suicide attemptish, implied/referenced revenge porn

category: angst(?), fluff(?) idrk 

word count: 4300

"and then the fucking cashier asked to take a picture!" katsuki bakugo seethed. "i just wanted to get my damn groceries, but everyone's so damn nosy!"

"at least they asked?" mina ashido said, her voice pitched at the end, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

"don't even get me started on the fucking stalkers that don't ask," bakugo growled.

"i don't know how you can live like that," hanta sero laughed at bakugo's misery. "sounds terrible."

is this karma for being amused by bakugo's misfortunes?

the day immediately after, sero is scanning his items after getting everything he needs from the grocery store when the cashier stares at him with wide eyes, glancing between him and the phone in their hand.

"are you cellophane?"

is this what having fans feels like? it's kind of flattering but also annoying that he's being called his hero name during his off time.

"oh, yeah," sero responds with a light laugh, trying to stay polite.

he expects them to ask for a picture or maybe an autograph. what he doesn't expect is snickering.

he vaguely remembers how denki kaminari described being recognized in public for the first time. he was met with taunts from a group of students because a video of him short circuiting had just gone viral.

sero's quirk doesn't even have any drawbacks similar to short circuiting, so he can't think of a possible reason why his cashier would be laughing at him.

he ignores it and finishes checking out because he doesn't want to ask what's wrong with the other person.

when he gets back to his apartment complex, he checks his mail. there's a few bills and postcards from old friends.

the guy next to him bursts out laughing.

he closes his mailbox and gives him a questioning look. that just made it two people that have laughed at him in the past thirty minutes. what's going on?

"you're cellophane, right?"

"uh, yeah?" sero says, completely confused.

"just don't be too loud in this building," the guy says, apparently cracking himself up.

sero is still puzzled. he's been the perfect tenant. the loudest noise that's ever come from his apartment was the merciless explosions from bakugo directed toward kaminari after a particularly bad joke, but that happened two years ago. ever since then, the most that could be heard was maybe kaminari's laughter, but sero doubts that that was even that loud.

when he reaches his floor and opens the door of his apartment, he's greeted with his friends on the couch.

"oh, hey," sero says, shutting the front door with his foot and going toward the kitchen to start organizing his groceries. "i told you guys to start warning me before you come. do i have to start hiding my spare key?"

"we know what you're doing, sero," ashido frowns.

okay, something's up. the pink hero isn't using her normal teasing or upbeat tone, and the television isn't even on.

"what?" sero looks at her with the same expression he wore toward the guy who told him not to be too loud.

"you did this last time, bro," eijiro kirishima gives a disapproving look. "i thought we made it clear back then that we're here for you."

what is kirishima going on about? "last time"? well, sero knows what he's talking about because of the whole "here for you" part. of course he remembers. it was a prominent part of his life because it only happened once, during a time in his life he remembers too well.

see, sero is an easy-going guy. out of everybody in the group, he's probably the most stable.

i mean, ashido is a party animal that drags the group out to upbeat bars at least once a month even when she would do a hundred things she'd regret the next morning. it's not like they didn't like doing it, but she definitely needed supervision.

then, there's kaminari. he's an emotional mess, getting caught up in too many confusing flirty situations. each week, he would have a breakdown in the group chat. "so do you guys think me and x are really flirting? or is this like joke flirting?"

can't forget about kirishima. he's probably the second most stable, but he still has a lot of times where he needs reassurance and comfort.

last but definitely not least, bakugo--the emotionally constipated man who is only the tiniest bit better at communicating his emotions than he was in their first year together.

too long, didn't read: four out of five of the group needed someone to depend on at least once a month.

sero is the one person in their group that didn't necessarily need anybody. this isn't because he keeps shit to himself. he's just fortunate enough to not have any problems that aren't surface level. the most he has to deal with are minor inconveniences like running out of toilet paper, running into a villain on his off day, or getting puked on by ashido on a particularly wild night--nothing that emotionally tears him apart.

well, there was this one time about three years ago when he felt the worst that he ever had before. it was a terrible experience of heartbreak and self-hatred which is why he unfortunately remembers it so well. he kept it all to himself until his friends managed to eventually force it out of him, hence the "we're here for you".

but there is absolutely no reason for them to say "last time" as if it's happening again.

"what are you guys talking about? everyone's being so weird today."

"oh my god," kaminari's jaw falls. "do you seriously not know, or are you pretending like you're okay again?"

"not know what?" today is a day of questions, and he doesn't like it one bit.

"do you not check your fucking phone or something?" bakugo growls with annoyance and the slightest hint of shock. the slight gentleness of his volume gets sero incredibly worried.

"i haven't had time to. why? what's going on?"

the four look at each other, considering if they should enlighten sero on whatever it is.

when sero determines they're taking too long to decide, he takes out his phone from his pocket.

at first, he sees a bunch of text notifications from almost all of his old classmates and coworkers, all asking in various ways if he's okay.

he moves past them and searches up his hero name. what could be so bad that his friends expect him to go back to being as much of a concerning mess as he was the last time they spoke to him like this? he doubts that anything could make him as bad as he was after his breakup with his high school sweetheart.

oh... well, he can admit that seeing his name with a link from an adult video website being the top result and under "trending" doesn't make him feel that great, but he doesn't think that it's that bad.

"there's a video on pornhub with my name on it. is it like a really messed up cosplay of me or something?" sero asks, partially joking. "because if it is, i don't really care, guys. you don't have to worry about stuff like that. i know what it means to be known by the world, and that there are creeps out there that get off to--"

"shut the fuck up and watch the damn video," bakugo scowls.

"you want me to watch porn in front of you?" sero raises an eyebrow, slightly amused--a feeling that clearly isn't being reciprocated by any of the four that are staring at him.

"just watch it," kirishima sighs.

he clicks on it, even if he thinks it's a little weird that his friends want to watch him watch porn. maybe it's so bad that it's funny. he's expecting some weirdo to be wearing a poor version of his hero costume getting bukkaked or something weird like that.

all amusement leaves his body, and his confused smile drops.

it's not some weirdo wearing a knock off cellophane costume. he's greeted with a screen covered by him. wearing nothing.

it's not even the fact that his nude body is exposed on the internet to be shown to anybody and everybody that causes the pit in his stomach. it's because he recognizes the video. he knows what happens in it. he knows who's in it.

he doesn't stop watching as giggling from his phone fills the awkwardly silent room. soon enough, the nineteen year old sero in the video has a cock in his mouth, and his fingers are up the ass of the owner of said cock.

that's not even the worst part. the worst part is the next part, which is where sero from three years ago takes the camera, uses his quirk to tie his ex-love's wrists together, and fucks him while getting everything on camera, including a clear shot of his face.

he watches the entire thing, too frozen to do anything else.

in any other situation, his friends would be teasing the shit out of him. ashido would poke fun at how sero of all people made a sex tape, kaminari would make some stupid pun about how he made a sex tape, kirishima would try to be holding himself back from laughing at how sero used his quirk for such a purpose as tying his partner up for sex, and bakugo would probably call him something along the lines of "plain face cock-sucking bottom bitch", even though the next few scenes that follow show that he's clearly not the last part.

this isn't any other situation, though. this is a sex tape with the one person he fucked over so badly that he still stays up every night thinking about it--regretting it. sero thinks that the universe must think he's one big joke.

"sero?" kaminari asks when sero doesn't speak even after the video ends. it's an awkward situation, really, because as mentioned earlier, his friends just watched him watch himself suck a dick and then proceed to pound into the ass of their former classmate.

he's not nearly as mortified by that as he should be.

he's more mortified that this is trending on every single social platform, not even because he's a pro hero with the world currently looking at his naked body, but because he somehow managed to fuck up y/n's life more than he already had three years ago.

"i'm tired" is the excuse he decides on using as he walks toward his bedroom. "i'll talk to you guys later."

hesitantly, his friends show themselves out, which he's glad for because he really needs some time to process--and wallow--by himself.

sero lies in bed for a while, not sure what to do, before he finally pulls out his phone again and does something that only makes the pit of guilt in his stomach worsen.

DailyHero: Taping Hero: Cellophane and the Video That Everyone's Talking about

HeroWeekly: Cellophane--26th Ranking Hero, Everything We Know About His Video

HeroTribune: Cellophane's Shocking Video

it isn't just hero media networks that are talking about it, though.

CelebrityGossip: Plain Hero Plain No More

since when is he a celebrity? he would find that funny if he wasn't so abashed by today's events.

RecreationalChronicle: How the Tape Hero is Making HeadLines

it makes him slightly amused to think of how that's another one of the stupid puns kaminari would make if the situation wasn't so sensitive.

he clicks on the hero weekly one, which just so happens to be the number one news outlet for hero news. sero's kind of surprised that they said anything about it. they were known for keeping things profession based, and the title of the article frankly sounds like any other drama website. he might be flattered by hero weekly deeming his amateur sex tape important enough to dedicate a whole article to it if he wasn't so plagued with guilt still.

Cellophane--26th Ranking Hero, Everything We Know About His Video

Cellophane, real name Hanta Sero, is the 26th ranking hero in Japan today. This morning, an explicit video featuring him and another man was leaked onto the internet via an adult video website. The original source is unknown, but we can only assume that neither Cellophane or his featured partner was behind revealing this to the public eye.

From what we gather, this video was filmed roughly around or before the first assignment that brought Cellophane lots of recognition. By this time, he was nineteen years old and had graduated the prestigious U.A. Academy a year prior.

The identities in the video are very clear, as there are many clear shots of both participants' faces.

While the video itself is shocking to many, Cellophane's partner is what surprises us the most. Y/n L/n was a hero that graduated alongside Cellophane from U.A. Academy. He was famous for being so fresh out of high school, but after just one year of unbelievable success--around the same time the infamous video was recorded--he went completely off the grid. To this day, nobody has seen him since.

sero stops reading because he feels more shitty the more he reads. he knows what the article is talking about. y/n cut off almost everybody from u.a. after their breakup. his friends tried to assure him that it wasn't his fault, but it was an awful big coincidence that his abrupt disappearance happened the exact day of their breakup.

he wonders what y/n's up to nowadays. is he still in japan? is he still pursuing a heroic lifestyle? perhaps he's been doing what aizawa did. maybe he continues to fight crime, just minus the recognition and media time.

if y/n really is living a peaceful life right now, did sero just shatter that? the world had sort of forgotten he existed at all after a few months of his disappearance, so he probably would've gotten away with roaming the streets freely without being recognized. did sero just ruin that for him?

he needs to know. he needs to try to fix things, even if he knows he can't. he needs to... he needs to talk to him, even after all these years.

when sero asks kaminari to meet him alone, the electric hero's kind of nervous. last time, he was happy with the entirety of their friend group comforting him. why did he want some one-on-one time all of a sudden?

apparently, he was right to be nervous because what sero is asking of him is hard for him to do.

"hey," kaminari says with the best smile he can muster in his anxious state.

"hey," sero greets back, taking a sip of his hot coffee.

"thanks for buying," kaminari says, twirling the straw in his cup with his hand, the ice of the iced coffee moving and crashing together.

"no problem," sero nods.

"what's up?" kaminari asks, putting the tip of the straw that lays in between his fingers into his mouth to take a nice long taste of the sweet treat.

"i need to talk to y/n," sero says, looking down at the coffee between his two hands instead of up into kaminari's eyes.

"i--what?" kaminari asks, almost spitting out his drink.

"i know you still talk to him, and i know why you can't tell me how to find him, but--"

"sero," kaminari frowns at the frantic desperation in his friends voice. "it's not that i can't. i mean, i probably shouldn't, but... that's not why."

"then why?" sero's voice is pleading, but his eyes hold angry frustration.

"look, the thing is, i don't even talk to him that often," kaminari sighs. "we've talked maybe twice since you guys broke up. we're not the friends that we used to be before."

"i understand that there's boundaries that shouldn't be crossed, okay? believe me, i really do, but i really need a chance to talk to him again. if he tells me to go away, i swear i'll drop it. i'll leave him alone. please."

"i know, i know. i know you aren't a stalker ex. just..."

kaminari's lips tighten into a line, a habit he's picked up over the years whenever he's faced with any kind of decision--whether it be deciding what flavor of ice cream he should get, or, apparently, if he should let his best friend see the guy he broke the heart of.

"okay," kaminari hesitates.

"thank you! thank you thank you--"

"don't thank me yet," kaminari says with a weak shake of his head. "before you talk to him, i need you to know that he's not the same person you knew."

"i understand," sero nods. he doesn't expects his meeting with him to go well anyway. sure, he hopes it will, but he's mentally prepared himself for the worst outcome, which his brain has decided is for y/n to yell and start throwing things at him.

"i... i don't know how to put it, really, but the few times that we talked, he's sounded... weird. like creepy. i don't know, man," kaminari shudders at the thought, but sero's too caught up in his anxious excitement to really care.

"it's okay. i understand," sero repeats.

"if you're sure," kaminari pauses. "truth is, y/n wants to see you, too."

"really?" sero feels all too hopeful, and he can see the worry paint kaminari's face.

"i don't know if it's in a good way or not," kaminari says carefully. he doesn't want to hurt his friend, but he doesn't want to set him up for disappointment either.

"i'm not expecting anything," sero says, but his words aren't very convincing when there's a clear smile growing on his face.

"just be careful, bro." kaminari writes an address on a piece of paper.

"you don't have to worry about me," sero reassures with a smile.

as he wanders through the streets, he's shaky and nervous and scared and ecstatic and--just everything.

y/n wants to meet with him. the possibilities are endless, but at least he now knows he won't be turned away--at least not immediately.

he goes between riding in cabs to treading amongst the shadows on the street, changing whenever someone recognizes him from the trending news.

he endures long hours of stares and whispers, encouraging himself with the thought of being able to see y/n again soon, whether that be a good thing or not.

"fiftieth floor of paragon hotel..." sero mutters to himself as he presses on the cold metal button. lots of questions come to mind, like where will y/n be? he didn't get a room number with the address. how will y/n react? will he stay civil? will he give him a chance to explain himself? did he only want sero to come so he could vent out his anger and frustrations?

when the elevator doors open, he sees a single door.

he hesitantly turns the knob until he's hit with a cold breeze from the night air.

oh.

it's the roof.

his brain's new worst conclusion is that y/n's going to push him off, but he's more okay with that than he should be. he has a quirk that can save him even if that happens, and if anything, he thinks it'll help him feel a little less guilty about everything he's done to make y/n's life more shitty.

"y/n," he calls out softly when he sees y/n just standing there, looking up at the big white moon in the sky.

nothing's really changed. his appearance isn't much different from the last time they saw each other, and sero's still enamored by how the stars above could never compare to the bright light that is y/n.

but that's not something he should be thinking about right now. his head shouldn't be filled with hopeful thoughts.

the object of his love to this day turns around upon hearing his name.

"sero," he greets with a smile. "you made it."

"yeah. i did," sero hesitantly steps closer to y/n. "listen, y/n, i'm..."

fuck. why is that the only thing he can get out of his mouth? he has so much to say--he's been thinking about it every night for the past three years--every hour for the past few days. so why is his mind blank now of all times?

"how're things with... i can't even remember her name," y/n laughs a little, and sero frowns. he doesn't know why he's laughing about the mistake that's been haunting him forever, but he swallows down those feelings. people grieve differently, and if anybody had a right to how they react to that night, it's y/n.

"i'm sorry," sero finally manages out. "she... i haven't talked to her since then. she's not a part of my life."

a casual "weird" is y/n's only comment before he turns back to look at the moon.

"you know... you know she never meant anything, right? we were--"

"'we were drunk, and i was lonely, but that's not an excuse, but she meant nothing, and you're the only one i want'," y/n finishes for him.

sero's heart sinks. has he been playing that night over and over in his head, too? has it been hurting him all this time as well?

"i remember." y/n's smile is still there, albeit more grim, and it unsettles sero.

"yeah..." and sero doesn't know what else to say because apparently, after years of mulling it over in his head, he hasn't come up with anything better than his initial rambles of regret. though, he still has something else to apologize for-- "i'm sorry. i swear it wasn't me who leaked it. i deleted--or at least i thought i deleted my copy years ago. maybe i didn't do it right. i don't know. i can't imagine how hard this must be for you. god, i'm so sorry. i managed to ruin everything all over again a whole three--"

"sero," y/n interrupts, sitting on the low ledge, eyes still on the sky.

"yeah?" sero swallows thickly at how desperate he sounds. he hates how messy his words are--hates how they pour out sounding so slow and stupid.

"do you love me?" y/n asks.

"what?" sero completely blanks. did he hear him right?

"do you love me?" y/n repeats, fully turning his body to him.

"yes." he doesn't hesitate for even a second, even though he wonders why he's asking that question at such an inappropriate time, because he has no doubt in his mind that he loves y/n and has since the moment they met.

"i don't believe you," y/n smiles as he stands up on the platform.

"what are you doing?" sero asks obliviously.

"what i should have done all those years ago," y/n smiles big, and it scares sero a little. "if you really love me... then you would catch me."

sero barely has time to process what he said before y/n lets himself freefall backwards.

sero's brain hadn't even considered that this would be one of the possible outcomes.

"y/n!" sero screams as he runs toward the ledge. he panics as he watches y/n's body get smaller and smaller the more he falls. he rips off his civilian long sleeve, shoots out his tape to stick onto the floor, before throwing himself off to go after him.

he uses his free elbow to launch his tape at y/n, knowing his own body wouldn't be able to get to him fast enough.

he wants to let out a sigh of relief when he sees that y/n's dangling by the white line rather than falling, but he knows from past experience with hero work that they're not completely safe just yet.

pulling himself up with the clear film he had luckily had the brains to think of placing first, he makes it back onto the roof of the building, slowly pulling his other elbow to haul y/n's body up as well.

"are you fucking crazy?!" he raises his voice for the first time in a long time. he doesn't think he's ever felt this angry and frustrated and mortified in his entire life.

y/n doesn't bother unwrapping himself from the tape as he uses a hand to pull sero's face close, kissing him softly.

and sero can't help but melt, which is the opposite of what he should probably be doing. a simple kiss shouldn't be able to pacify him with a situation like this at hand, but it does.

"you love me," y/n smiles when he pulls away just enough to feel the harsh pants coming from sero--the result of both the terrifying moment he just had to experience and his reaction to kissing y/n again.

"i do," sero nods eagerly, and shit, those aren't the words that are supposed to leave his mouth right now. he's supposed to ask what the hell is wrong with y/n. he's supposed to ask why he would do that. he's supposed to curse and swear and--anything but act like it's all okay.

"you love me," y/n says again before pulling him in for another kiss.

when sero puts his arms around y/n's waist and pulls his body as close as possible to his, he feels the buzz of y/n's phone.

"do you--do you need to get that?" sero asks as he reluctantly pulls away, sounding like a whiny child.

"i'm sure it's nothing important," y/n says before throwing his phone off of the roof, and sero pulls him back hungrily, because as strange as that action was, sero can't bring himself to care when the love of his life is back in his arms after three long years.

[12:39am] reporter to y/n: i got myself a promotion! been an honor working with you. again, thank you so much for selling it to me.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

a/n;

i wrote part of this in may last year because i thought the title was funny then i didn't know how to end it but then i got this sero request so

not proofread but when is it ever

[clumsyracconking]

A villain

Ch.13 (1146 words)

I describe Shinsou as slightly taller because of his hair, the two are actually the same height according to google, also I imagine Hitoshi as someone who listens to Cameron Sanderson’s cover of do re mi and pacify her in his free time.

The two stared at each other for a moment before the slightly taller one spoke. “I think you should be answering my questions first considering you’ve been ‘missing’ for the last 3 days the cops and media think you were kidnapped yet here you are smoking in an alleyway with black hair for some reason, is that a body behind you? What the fuck Sho?”

Shinsou was indeed right about all of what he’d said or rather observed. There was a body behind Todoroki. He did have black hair now thanks to Togas insistence and Dabi and Hawks being the only ones with hair dye. He had been missing for around 3 days now and the media was having a field day with his ‘kidnapping’, but is it really a kidnapping if said kid wanted to go?

“Oh him, yeah he was being rude. Wanna go somewhere so we can actually talk before my brother and friends start to wonder where I went, cause they’ve either not noticed or they’ve flipped the bar upside down and mist man is berating them.” Todoroki was already walking away prompting Shinsou to follow him but still giving him a choice.

Weaving through the alleys expertly Shoto looked behind him to see if his ex peer was following him, he was.

--

“Where the hell were you kid?!” Hawks said not really yelling but it wasn’t his normal tone of voice, gesturing towards Shinso he asked, “who’s that? If he’s who I’m 90% sure he is we have a body to dispose of.”

“What is it with you and threatening to kill every minor inconvenience, first me now him, like damn bitch.” Shoto moved past Hawks, had he thought Hitoshi was a threat he wouldn't have brought him here. “I was on a walk when I ran into dear ol’ Hitoshi here, and if I thought he would be a problem for any of us he would be in an alley somewhere dead.” He grabbed Hitoshi’s hand and pulled the slightly dumbfounded boy up the stairs with him going towards Togas room because he’d still yet to get his own.

As soon as the door was shut behind him Shoto was pinned against the wall. “Glad to know you missed me babe.”

“You fucking asshole, you couldve at least told me you were gonna dip. And before you say anything we both know I don’t give a fuck about the whole villany thing we’ve discussed this before.” Shinso said before releasing Todoroki.

“Alright I’ll admit my bad that was a dick move but if it helps at all it was kind of a decision I made on a whim while I watched Dabi and Hawks break in and almost kill the bastard, I kind of wish I hadn’t interrupted but what's done is done.”

Holy shit there was a lot to unpack here. “I- there's a lot there Sho you just, wow ok. Uhh let’s start with the dad thing.”

“Oh yeah and Dabi’s my brother Touya but that’s something I learned today, anyways-,” “back the fuck up, Dabi is Touya? I thought you told me Touya was dead!” Shoto walked over to the mini fridge in the corner for a snack before continuing. “Yeah turns out the old man is a liar, not all that suppressed honestly. Want some brownies? I took Sero’s recipe a few months ago.” They could unpack all of this later it was brownie time.

Walking down the stairs the pair came across Hawks and Shigaraki sitting at the bar discussing what sounded like a video game. “You guys want brownies?” Shoto yelled at them still walking towards the communal kitchen most of them shared.

At the mention of brownies both Hawks and Shigaraki’s heads shot up, “I’ll take that as a yes then, by the way this is Hitoshi.” Hitoshi raised the hand that wasn’t holding Shoto’s and waved.

“I swear to God you and Dabi are turning my league into a daycare center.” Shigaraki said annoyed at the amount of kids and kid like adults he constantly had to be around, not to say he was any different but it was still annoying.

“If it helps at all the purple one wasn’t me, I’ve been here with you all day.” Shigaraki called bullshit, “ok and who brought in the other one cause I know damn well it wasn’t Toga the little Todoroki isn’t so stupid he’d follow the mosquito. It was you and Dabi so far as I’m concerned this one is your fault too.”

“That was a backhanded compliment if I’ve ever heard one, damn, Hitoshi what do you think?”

He wasn't falling for that, “no thanks, I choose life pretty boy. And as far as I’m concerned my life has been in danger since ex number 2 over there threatened my life, so I’ll be quiet when it comes to being snarky towards the hand man who attacked 1-A multiple times.”

“Finally some fucking respect, we can keep this one.” Shigaraki’s mind was made up, he and Hitoshi as the little Todoroki called him were cool.

“Oh sweetie, we’re a package deal you pretty much already had this one.” Shoto piped up from behind the doors that lead to the kitchen. When had they moved?

“How many of the Todorki’s are gay?!” Hawks asked himself sadly enough for him his friend decided to answer, “at least 3.” Hawks was curious, “why and how do you know that?” It was Shoto’s turn to add to the conversation, “have you seen Natsuo, that man is a flaming homosexual. Plus I wouldn’t be surprised if they fucked.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.” Shigaraki said after a beat of silence. “What is it with you Todoroki’s and villains Sho, is it the daddy issues or the mommy issues?” Hitoshi said loudly to his boyfriend. “It’s the daddy issues but the mommy issues don’t help.” Shoto deadpanned. “Next time I see your brother I’m telling him about this golden conversation.” Shigaraki said back stifling a laugh hearing two eww’s echo from the kitchen.

--

“It’s the daddy issues for me.”

“It’s the attachment issues for me.”

“It’s the little brother for me.”

“It’s the blood fetish for me.”

“It’s the fact you fucked a chicken man for me.”

“It’s the obsessive crush on a kid that looks like broccoli for me.”

“It’s the borderline alcoholism for me.”

“It’s the best friends with more issues than I can count for me.”

“It’s the fact you turned to villany to spite your father for me.”

“Damn girl, I concede I guess.”

“That’s what I thought.”

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Riding High Ch 20: When The Bough Breaks...

Chapter Summary: Fliss finds herself in an impossible position…and her decision tips Frank’s world upside down.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N:  I  know I only updated a few days ago with Ch 19 but this one has been written for a wile and I finished yesterday so decided not to wait.

Don’t hate me…

Chapter Song:  Shattered by Trading Yesterday

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist 

And this day’s ending is the proof of time, killing all the faith I know.

“Was that another one?” Frank asked as Fliss tossed her phone onto the coffee table with an angry snort.

She nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Frank sighed and looked at her “Honey…” “I know, I know…” she said, looking at him. “Look, I’ve made notes of every time I’ve had one so… its recorded. But again, it’s not like we can prove anything…they happen like twice a day and then nothing…hardly what they’ll call harassment.” Frank shifted slightly “This has been going on for 2 weeks now sweetheart.” “I’m well aware of that.” she snapped, before she shook her head “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry…not at you.” “Come here…” he said, opening his arms and she snuggled into him, leaning against his chest as his hand gently ran up and down her arm. “Maybe you should think about changing your number…and not putting the new one on the website.” “Yeah.” she conceded, “It’s not gonna help for work though…” “You can work round it.” he said, “Keep the business line and if you’re not there people will have to leave a message. Then, once you know your clients…you can give them your cell number.”

“Fucking ass hole is still making my life awkward.”

“Only if you let him.” Frank said gently “It’s a minor inconvenience to change your number but, if in the grand scheme of things all he has in his back pocket is sending you some dumbass birthday card and trying to piss you off with silent phone calls then…he’s just a pathetic fucking loser that’s trying to bully you into being scared.” “I’m not scared, just pissed off.” she shook her head “I know he’s a chicken shit, he wouldn’t dare come near me not when you’re on the scene…or my dad for that matter.” “Good, because if he did I’m not sure I’d be able to control myself.” Frank said softly.

“Maybe we should just pay someone to kill him.” Fliss said after a moment’s pause and Frank let out a snort “Bullet straight between the eyes.”

“Nah, too quick.” Frank sniffed, reaching for his beer “I’d dangle him over a tank of hungry sharks…lower him in inch by inch…”

“Or we could feed him to pigs, like in Hannibal.” Fliss mused.

“That’s also an option…no trace” he said, swallowing a mouthful of beer.

“You know they should teach this shit at schools” Fliss said, reaching for her own drink “How to get rid of bodies. I feel it is something everyone should be educated in.” “Maybe you should mention it to Bonnie.” he said as she took a sip of wine “Tell her you feel it is an educational rite of passage or some other inspiring shit like that…”

Fliss laughed, placing her wine glass down and shifting so that she was led on her front, half on-half off Frank, looking up at him as her chin rest on his chest.

“On a scale of 1 to 10 how much of a meltdown are we facing with Mary on tomorrow morning?”

“From her current mood I’d suspect a good 4 and a half, maybe a 5.” he mused, before he looked at Fliss “I don’t much care, she’s going whether she wants to or not.” “When do the University Classes start again?”

“Not till second week in October.”  Frank replied “Which reminds me, I need to submit that funding form tomorrow…” “It’s on the table.” Fliss said, as she correctly guessed from the look on his face he was pondering where he had put it.”

“What would I do without you?” he grinned down at her.

“I have absolutely no idea.” she shrugged and he smiled and leaned down pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Did you speak to Evelyn before?” Fliss asked him and he nodded.

“She’s coming down this weekend.” Frank said, “She’s still on about Mary going to Boston for a weekend.” “You still not comfortable about her going?” Fliss asked.

Frank wrinkled his nose “I don’t know if I trust her fully yet.” “You’ll never know you can unless you give her a chance.” Fliss reasoned

“You think I should let her go?” Frank said, slightly surprised.

“That’s not my decision to make, Frank” Fliss shook her head.

“No, but I value your opinion.” Frank looked at her. “Go on, tell me what you think.” Fliss hesitated for a moment before she sat up and turned her body so she was facing him, her legs tucked underneath her on the sofa. “If it was me in your position, I’d give Evelyn a chance. She’s played ball so far, done everything you’ve asked her to. You’ve got legal guardianship of Mary so she can’t pull any stupid stunts, and if Mary comes back and tells you something she did that you don’t like, well, you cut the visits.” Frank looked at Fliss before he took another drink from his beer bottle. He was torn in two. In one respect he wanted Mary to be happy and it certainly seemed that she enjoyed seeing Evelyn, but on flip side he was still more than comfortable with keeping his Mother at arm’s length.

“I’ll think about it.” he shrugged, non-committedly.

“Well, you should also ask Mary.” Fliss said “She might not even want to go.” “She will.” Frank said, “Evelyn has a piano.” Fliss laughed “Yeah, but she’s also bossy, remember?”

“Yeah, I had heard that.” Frank said, and Fliss chuckled again.

“Well, can you not think about it right now?” she said, taking the beer bottle out of his hand.

“Hey…” he pouted as she put it down on the table, his pout soon turned into a smirk as Fliss moved so she was straddling him on the sofa, his t-shirt that she��d been lounging around in rode up her thighs slightly and his hands rubbed up the side of her bare skin. “Something on your mind baby girl?”

“What makes you think that?” she asked, sliding her hands up his chest, over the soft material of his top.

“Just a hunch…” he mumbled, as he reached up and gently gripped the back of her neck, pulling her head down to meet his.

****** “Hey Frank…”

Frank looked up and smiled at Alan as he walked into the work shop.

“Hey Alan, not seen you in a while, how you doing?” “Good…I’m good. I was just wondering if I could have a word in my office.”

“Sure.” Frank frowned “Is err, everything ok?” “Oh, yeah, it’s nothing to worry about…quite the opposite in fact…” “Alright, well me just finish piecing this oil filter together and I’ll be with you.”

“Sure.” Alan said, “No rush.”

Frank quickly tightened the filter back up, gave it the once over before he set down his tools and hopped off the boat, wiping his hands on a rag before he walked through the door at the back of the workshop and down the small corridor that led to the main office at the rear of the shop. He knocked sharply on the door and then swung it open as Alan looked at him, gesturing for him to take a seat whilst he finished up his call. Eventually, he bid the person on the other end good bye and placed the receiver down.

“Relax, Frank…” Alan chuckled as Frank adjusted his jeans for what felt like the 30th time since sitting down.

“Sorry.” Frank nodded, scratching at his temple. “So errr, do you need me to do something or...” “In a manner of speaking, yes.” Alan said “As you know Paul is retiring at the end of the year, which means the Head Mechanic role is up for grabs…and I was wondering if you’d be interesting in taking the position.” “Me?” Frank’s eyes widened slightly

Alan nodded “I know in the grand scheme of things you haven’t been here long but you’ve impressed me, just like Bill said you would. You knuckle down, you do the overtime if needed, you don’t complain…I like you Frank, and the team does to.” “I err…” Frank scratched the back of his neck. “I’m flattered…but I’ve never managed a team before or…”

“You were an Assistant Professor at one stage right?” Alan eyed him and Frank sighed, nodding “You must have had a research team…” “Yeah, but…” “It’s no different.” Alan shook his head, “And I’m here to help and give you some guidance. I’m not quite ready to retire fully yet. Not like Bill, only so much golf I can play before I go fucking nuts.” Frank snorted “Yeah, not gonna lie, it’s not my thing…” Alan looked at him “The duties won’t be that much different Frank. You’ll just be in charge of booking the jobs in, allocating them to the guys, keeping on top of deadlines and general management of the team…means a little less time spent actually getting your hands dirty but…well, you can manage that yourself. You wanna take a job you take it.”

“Can I take a bit of time to think it over?” he asked.

“Sure. Take a few days, let me know. I’d like to have whoever is taking over in a position to start the handover by the beginning of October if possible so…” “Thanks.” Frank nodded “I’ll give it some thought.” “Oh, and it also comes with a Ten thou a year raise…” Alan casually dropped in as Frank stood up “Plus a bonus each year of up to 20 percent, depending on how well you’ve done on your targets” “Just a minor detail you forgot to tell me.” Frank arched an eyebrow.

“Well, I wanted to make sure you’d consider it for the right reasons not merely the financial incentive.” Alan shrugged “Another reason I’m convinced you’re perfect for the job.” Frank nodded and with that he left the office. Given that it was almost lunch time he took his break 15 or so minutes earlier and headed out into the September sun, pulling out his phone.

“Hey Sailor.” Fliss greeted him.

“Hey Cowgirl.” he smiled, leaning against the hood of his truck sipping a bottle of water “You got a sec.” “For you, always. What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing bad anyway…I just got offered a promotion.”

“Frankie that’s amazing!” She gushed “You sound surprised though.” “I am, a little.” he said, before he launched into an explanation of what Alan had told him and what the job would entail, plus the financial incentives.

“Wow!” she said as he finished talking “Baby, that’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you!”

Frank felt himself blushing at her praise, and despite the fact he couldn’t even see her he rubbed at his neck slightly. “So, you think I should take it?” “Of course I do.” she said eagerly “But at the same time, if you don’t want to then…you don’t have to. This is a great position to be in honey, Alan’s clearly seen your potential.”

“Just not sure If I’m cut out to be management.” he said, biting his lip.

“I had the same thoughts about my business you know.” she spoke gently “I wasn’t sure if setting up on my own after everything that happened was gonna work but then Dad told me that I’d never know unless I took the plunge. Have a little faith in yourself. The only person who doubts your capability is you.”

Frank smiles at her words and looked up and out over the Marina “You always know exactly what to say.” “Not really, I make most of it up as a go along.” she said and Frank laughed. “But, just think, with the extra money you can get a new car…” “There’s nothing wrong with my truck.” “Frank, it’s died on you 4 times in the last 2 weeks. Dad reckons his ride on lawnmower has more power under the hood than that thing”

“Ok, I’ll admit…she’s getting a little clunky…but she is into her twenties now….” Fliss snorted “You could get yourself a nice Audi…”

“Fuck off.” Frank said and she laughed

“I like Simon’s car…” “You like it so much you get one.”

“Would never fit Thor in the back.” she said and Frank had to concede she had a point “But now you’re freelancing…you don’t actually need a truck do you?” “No, but…it’s handy…” “Handy, baby it only has 3 seats…” “And a flatbed…” Frank pouted slihglty. “So get one with 5 seats.” she shrugged. “You can buy trucks with a full cab…”

“This is not a good enough reason to get me to take the promotion…”

“You want a better reason?” She said. “Ok, well here’s some food for thought…when the lease is up on our place maybe we could look into buying. You know I don’t wanna rent forever, I want us to have something for the future that’s ours, and the extra money you get a year would make a difference in what we can borrow towards it.” And just like that, as always, she’d managed to sideswipe him. He’d be lying if he hadn’t considered getting back on the property market, he had savings after all…but he’d given it no more thought than a fleeting idea every now and then when he drove past places with real estate signs in the front yards

“This mean you’re coming round to the idea of marrying me and having baby Franks and Flisses?” he teased She snorted “You’re such a dick…although that’s the only time you’ve ever mentioned that when you’re sober.” “So you’re saying that if I ask you when I’m not drunk you’d say yes?” he teased. “Goodbye Frank…” She teased in an airy voice, before she cut the call.

Chuckling to himself he slid the phone back into his pocket and headed back inside to grab his lunch from the fridge in the kitchen. As he did so he passed Alan who was heading out with a fresh cup of coffee.

“Oh, erm…Alan…” Frank looked at him. “So, turns out I don’t need as much time to think about it as I thought I did. I’ll take the job.” Alan smiled at him and pat him on the shoulder “Good man. I’ll get the wheels in motion and then we can work out how we start to transfer Paul’s responsibilities over.”

Frank nodded at him as he walked off.

“Oh…” Alan said, “We’ll also need to pick your car.”

“My car…” Frank frowned.

“Yeah, did I not mention? Paul’s BM…that’s a company car. I’m gonna let him keep it as a retirement present so we’ll need to order you another one. Not least because I don’t want my Head Mechanic driving around in that heap of shit you have. Looks like we don’t pay you enough…” Frank stood there, eyebrows raised as Alan simply smirked at him and left. Shaking his head, he gave a little groan, already imagining Fliss’ face when he told her.

*****

Fliss had reacted exactly how he had thought she would, laughing hysterically and then teasing him about how he had no alternative now than to get rid of the heap of shit he was ridiculously attached to. She’d then spent the evening looking at cars on her phone, showing him ridiculously pimped out vehicles in various vile colours, the final straw being a hot-rod red Mustang with gold rims and flames painted down the side. At that point he’d snatched the phone out of her hand, grabbed her hips and pulled her down under him on the couch and given her something else to think about for half an hour or so.

September ticked by, in the usual speed by which time seemed to be flying for Frank and he found himself thrown into his job, soaking up Paul’s experience of managing the team as much as he could. He was also extremely grateful for both Fliss and Bill’s input, both of them having dealt with managing staff and rotas so he was able to ask them both questions as well. Naturally, when V heard about it she insisted on cooking him a special dinner, and even Evelyn presented him with a very nice bottle of Scotch when she came to visit as a Congratulations.

Another bit of good news for them was that once Fliss changed her phone number the calls stopped as well. Frank was glad about that, because it meant that once again they’d thwarted the ass holes attempts to intimidate her. She’d made a blog, however, of every call she had gotten which now sat in Greg’s files along with the Card. Just in case.

Nope, on the whole life seemed to be going well for the pair of them.

“Someone’s looking smug…” Greg teased Frank as he leaned back in the chair around Greg’s large outdoor table. It was a Saturday at the start of October and they’d finally got round to having that cook out and gathering that the Circle of Truth had been attempting to organise round everyone’s schedule for the last 3 months.

“Well, you know…life’s pretty good.” Frank smiled, sipping his beer, his eyes straying to Fliss who was stood around the bar area to the right of the garden with Bonnie, Zara and Lisa. She was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a tie-died off the shoulder sweater but as usual, she looked stunning.

“You got a ring yet?” Jake asked, dropping down into a seat next to him.

“Oh don’t you start as well.” Frank groaned as Simon and Greg both laughed. “We’re happy as we are…besides, we’ve not even been together a year yet…” “Not far off.” Jake shrugged “Man, when you know you know…” “He’s just scared she’ll say no.” Simon teased. Frank stilled for a moment and then turned to glare at the man. “Shit, you are?” Simon frowned “No, not especially but…” Frank shook his head, trying to find the words to explain “I’m absolutely, totally convinced I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and I know she feels the same but…well she’s been married before and I don’t want to ask until I know she’s ready to do it again.”

Greg looked at him, nodding “I get that.”

“That’s gotta be the most grown up think you’ve ever said…” Jake looked at Frank who flipped him off but deep down he had to admit, it wasn’t wrong. He knew that both he and Fliss had come a long way from the people they had been just over 14 months ago when they had first met. Fliss had come alive, flourished even in herself, and he…well, he’d learnt that there was more to life than a meaningless cycle of one night stands and that flying by the seat of his pants wasn’t always the most productive thing to do. Both of them had been broken in their own way, had their own guards and walls around themselves which the other had managed to smash straight through. He stole another glance at Fliss and smiled, he knew there was no other woman for him, but in the same breath…what was the rush? They had a life time. And a ring and a piece of paper wasn’t going to change any of that.

“Man you grew up…” Simon said, and Frank rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’ll have you know I’ve brought up a kid since the age of 6 months…all this shit about me being a man child…It’s crap…”

“Whatever man…we all know you’re not a grown up until you have scatter cushions on your sofa…” Simon teased, referencing the previous week when he and Bonnie had come over for drinks and Fliss and Frank had had a jokey argument about the cushions on the sofa. Frank threw his head back in a huge bout of laugher, shaking his head.

“Fuck you!” he said, looking at him as Simon grinned.

“Anyway, man…speaking of weddings…” Greg turned to Jake “You’ve been engaged for what? like 3 years now…when you gonna set a date?”

“He has a point…” Simon looked at him.

“Well, you can all shut the fuck up because for your information we have.”

“Shut the front door!” Greg grinned

Jake nodded and took a large mouthful of his beer.

“So you gonna tell any of us or…” Jake glanced over at Lisa before he yelled her name and she looked over at him, the other women also looking up.

“Can we tell them now babe?” he called. Lisa grinned and nodded, and then made her way over followed by Zara. Fliss looked at Bonnie who shrugged, and the two of them picked up their drinks and followed.

Fliss perched on Frank’s knee and he slid one hand round her waist the other dropped to her thigh.

“So, we have set a date for the wedding.” Lisa smiled to a huge shriek from Zara. Frank spotted Fliss looking at Bonnie, the two of them sharing a significant smirk and he squeezed her thigh.

“Stop being a bitch.” he said in a low voice.

“Rude…” she mumbled, grinning into her gin.

“6th April next year…” Jake grinned. “At Hardemans Secret Garden in Dover, Tampa.” “Well unless you invented a time machine, it ain’t gonna be this year is it?” Simon looked at him, before he gave a yell as Bonnie slapped him round the back of the head.

“Obviously you’re all invited.” Jake said, “Except for Simon.” “Hang on, if he isn’t coming does that mean I can’t?” Bonnie pouted.

“You can be my plus one.” Fliss nodded.

“Oi…” Frank said, nipping her thigh gently. She grinned at him, ruffling his hair slightly. He jerked his head out of her reach and looked at her over his aviators. She stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned.

“Guys this is great news…” Greg said, nodding “Best dig the suit out.” “You wear a suit to work every day.” Zara looked at him.

“And you won’t need to.” Jake shook his head. “In fact none of you will…my brother is best man, obviously, but I’d like you guys there as my Groomsmen…that is, if you’re up for it.” Frank smiled at Greg, then Simon before they all shrugged.

“Yeah, I’m in…” Greg smiled,

“Me too pal, I’m honoured.” Frank smiled, tipping his beer bottle in Jake’s direction.

“Does this mean we get to plan the Batchelor party?” Simon asked. Jake nodded with a grin and Simon leaned back “Oh this is gonna be beautiful….”

***** “You’re fucking mental.” Frank looked at Fliss as she shrugged, circling Cap back round to the jump which Joanne had just hiked up another foot. He shook his head and turned away “I can’t watch.” “Don’t’ be a chicken Frank.” Mary grinned up at him, “It’s cool…I wanna do that some day.” “Over my dead body.” Frank looked down at her.

“Yeah you said that about me going to Boston…” “No, that’s not what I said.” Frank sighed, looking at her “I said over my dead body were you going to live with Evelyn….and did you?” “No…” Mary conceded “But you’re letting me go back for a weekend.”

“Yes, because you’re going for 2 nights and coming home” he said, and despite himself he turned his head to see Fliss sail Cap over the huge jump.

“See….” Fliss said, pulling the horse up to a stop “Easy…” “Whatever you say sweetheart.” he shook his head.

“Can I jump Monty soon?” Mary asked, and Fliss smiled.

“Yeah we can do a little cross pole…” “I give in…” Frank groaned, throwing his hands out to the side “The pair of you are nuts…”

“Says the guy who almost cried when he had to order a new car.” Fliss looked at him and Frank rolled his eyes “I mean who does that?” “Yeah Frank…” Mary said, swinging off the fence to the paddock, leaning back to look at him. “You get to swap a rust bucket for a shiny new Mitsubishi  truck and you were like heartbroken.” “Hey, me and that truck have seen a lot of action-“

“I don’t wanna know…” Fliss started.

“Of which you’ve been part of…” he smirked her and she flushed a little, grinning. “I’m kinda attached to it.” “It’s a lump of metal.” Fliss looked at him.

“How dare you.” Frank scoffed, feigning offence.

“Well now you can have new adventures in the new truck.” Mary shrugged “Simples.” “When you do get it I vote the first thing we do is load it up and head off for a picnic somewhere.” Fliss said, hopping off Cap.

“I can go with that.” Frank nodded as she turned and walked towards the gate, letting her out.

“Can I take him?” Mary asked, hopping down off the fence.

“Sure…” Fliss said, handing her the reins. Mary led the horse away to the barn as Fliss removed her hat and pulled out her bobble, shaking her long hair free before she tied it back up again.

“I really do like it that colour.” Frank mused after a second, watching her. She blushed a little, and he knew why. A week ago she’d come back from the salon, her usually bright auburn hair was a lot more demure, having had caramel and dark brown put through it. When Frank had complimented her on the change she’d gotten a little shy and said that she used to have it like that when she was younger, but upon splitting with John had decided she wanted a completely different look. Now she felt like she wanted to go back to who she was, not needing to put that distance between her and her past anymore. Her admission had once again, knocked him for 6, how simple little things like that were so huge for her. He was also beyond happy she felt like that too.

She pulled off her riding gloves, shoved them into her back pocket and they walked into the barn as Mary opened Cap’s stable and led him inside. As always, the large horse bowed his head gently to allow Mary to undo his bridle and Fliss smiled. Cap was secretly her favourite after Heidi. He was such a loving animal, despite his size always being so gentle and careful around people, especially Mary. Most animals were like that around her, she just had this aura that they seemed to like. But then again, everyone said that animals were a good judge of character.

“Can we go to the shack for dinner?” Mary spoke up, looking at Frank “It is Saturday…”

“Oh, I dunno…” Frank sighed, “Not sure my heap of shit truck will get us there.” “No but Fliss’ jeep will.” Mary shrugged and Frank shook his head with a snort.

“You literally have an answer for everything.”

“Wonder where she gets that from…” Fliss looked at him and he nudged her gently with his elbow.

“So can we go or not?”

“Yes, ok we can go to the shack.” Frank said “But the deal is you tidy your room when you get home. It’s a disgrace.” Mary pondered this for a moment as Fliss undid the girth on Cap’s saddle, pulling it off.

“Deal.” she nodded “Only Fliss said she was gonna help me sort my clothes out…some of them don’t fit anymore.”

“Yeah we do that tomorrow morning.” Fliss smiled, “Then we can look at ordering you some warm stuff for New York.” “oooh yeah, are we still getting matching sweaters when we get there?” “No.” Frank said, at the same time Fliss nodded.

“Yes.” “No, we’re not.” Frank looked at her.

“Errr 2 vs 1 Sailor, you’re outvoted.” she shrugged, pushing past him with the saddle on her arms. “But if you’re a good boy we’ll let you pick them right Mary?” “I dunno.” Mary frowned “Have you seen his shirts?” Fliss let out a roar of laughter and turned to face her, before she looked at Frank, laughing even harder at the pure indignation on his face.

“I hate you both.” he said sullenly, folding his arms.

The Shack was busy by the time they arrived but given that it wasn’t too cold they managed to find a small table outside and ordered their food, Mary getting through an astonishing amount considering but the Frank had noticed she was going through a bit of a growth spurt which he mentioned to Fliss when they were snuggled up on the sofa later.

“Not sure getting her any stuff for New York yet is wise.” he mused “If she carries on like she is it won’t fit her.”

“Well we can wait…Fliss said shrugging, her hand rubbing at Frank’s stomach under his shirt. “You have no idea how excited I am…” “Really?” Frank snorted “You never mentioned it.” “Oh piss off” she laughed, before she sighed happily “It’s the one thing I miss about home and Boston…you know this time of year the leaves would be changing colour and falling,…”

“I know what you mean.” he said, his hands carding through her hair “You don’t really Seasons here.”

“Well you do…” Fliss said, “Hurricane and Summer.” Frank let out a laugh as she looked up at him. “You know you’re my hurricane.”

“What?” he looked at her

“Came into my life, blew it all upside down…” “Jesus you talk some shit!” he laughed, shaking his head as she grinned.

“You know there was actually a hurricane Frank back in 2010.” she said “So I’m not talking complete shit…” “Whatever Sweetheart…” he snorted, leaning back as her nails scratched against his skin. He gave a twitch and grabbed her wrist, and looked down at her as she flashed him a coy look. “Stop it.”

“What, this?” she moved and used her other hand, and Frank let out a hiss as he shifted and grabbed that one too.

“You know what that does to me…” he looked at her, his voice low.

“Yup.” she nodded, grinning.

With a jerk of his arms he pulled her forward so she fell onto him fully, drawing a giggle from her as her nose bumped against his.

“I fuckin’ love you.” he smiled at her, and she grinned, giving him a soft kiss.

“Yeah, you’ve told me once or twice…” she smirked, her lips locking onto his.

******

“Fliss?”

“Office…” she called back, and a second or so later Joanne popped her head into the room.

“Everything’s done.” she said, “I was gonna lock up…you’re not normally here this late.”

“Yeah I know but I have some paper work to sort. Need to file a couple of things and, well, thought it would be easier to do it here than take everything home. Frank’s taken Mary bowling so…” “And you’d rather be here doing paper work?” Joanne teased.

“Sadly, it needs doing…besides, last time we went I kicked his ass, again, he sulked for hours.” Fliss snorted “Maybe he stands more of a chance against Mary.”

“Won’t he let her win?” Joanne asked “I mean, she is only 8…”

“Have you met Frank?” Fliss looked at Jo. “He says that she needs reminding every now and then that she’s not a genius at everything…” Joanne let out a laugh “Fair enough. Ok, well I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, by Jo…”

Fliss set about getting to work, filing the various bills and disclaimers she’d had signed and started then sifting through the list of clients and payments, checking who owed what and typing out the bills for the month. Once they were printed and placed in envelopes, ready to be tacked to the stable doors in the morning she glanced at the clock and realised it was almost 8 pm.  Frank and Mary should be home now.

She was just about to pack up when she realised she hadn’t gone through the post for the day. For a second she debated leaving it for the morning, but decided she would get it over with. There wasn’t much- mostly a couple of letters from various equestrian societies around the area about a few events going on, but the last one she reached was a manila envelope with the address typed out on the front.

She turned it over, opened it and then pulled out the contents and immediately felt her blood run cold as she looked at the paper in front of her. It was a copy of the photo of her and Mary, taken from the first Blog that Mary had written over the summer. Underneath it was typed a simple message- I always knew you’d suit motherhood.

Fliss swallowed, it didn’t take a genius to work out who it was from but for the first time since his ridiculous campaign now she was actually frightened as to the meaning behind this. Up until now it he’d been nothing more than annoying but this was designed to be more than an aggravation.

It was a threat. A direct threat telling her he knew about Mary.

Whilst Fliss wasn’t Mary’s mother, and would never claim to be she loved that girl like she was her own and the fact that John was even brining her into this made her feel physically sick, so much so that she felt the bile rising in her throat and with a sharp heave she lurched to the side, grabbing the waste paper basket and hocking up the bitter substance. Coughing she wiped the back of her mouth with a shaking hand, reaching for the bottle of water on her desk.

She folded the photo up and stuck it back in the envelope, shoving it in the drawer before she stood up and locked her office, heading to her jeep. Her mind was reeling, now it wasn’t just her he was focussing on, this changed everything. Did she tell Frank? She knew she should, she couldn’t leave Mary in danger. Not that she believed any harm would come to her, not really, especially not under Frank’s care but that was another worry she had. That if she told Frank this, it was really going to push him over that edge into blind rage, and he’d been on the first plane out to Boston, hunting the fucker down…and then what?

He ended up in jail himself because Fliss knew Frank well enough to understand that if that blind rage took hold, he wouldn’t stop.

She had no answer to this, nothing. She sat in her jeep, staring out of the window, trying to force the thoughts and mumbles and voices in her heat to quiet, so she could think clearly, get some form of grasp on what it was she needed to do. And then one voice was screamed at her, clearly, giving her a solution…the only one she could viably see working.

With a loud sob, Fliss covered her face in her hands, unable to see an alternative to the decision she had just reached. A decision that was going to break her heart more than anything had ever done before.

******

“Hey, you’re late…”  Frank looked up, immediately frowning as he saw Fliss’ face. “Honey…what…” “Where’s Mary?” she asked instantly.

“She nipped to Roberta’s” Frank said “I know it’s late but we saw her as we were headed out of the car and she wanted to collect something for Show and Tell tomorrow…why?”

“We need to talk.” Fliss said.

Frank stood up off the sofa and walked towards her, he reached for her and she took a step back.

“Ok, Fliss, you’re scaring me now…what…”

“I think…” Fliss looked down at her hands “I think that we need to stop seeing each other.” Frank blinked, not sure he had heard her right, but when he looked at her he saw a tear trickling down her face and she was avoiding his gaze. The world around him began to fade and a dull buzzing filled his head and rang around his ears as a horrible cold feeling washed over him.

“Lissy…” he swallowed, his words sticking in his throat “What’s brought this on? Did I do something? Are you not happy? I don’t understand…” “I just…it isn’t working for me…” she said, taking a deep breath and looking up at him. “You’re lying.” he said instantly, he could see it written all over her face “Fliss, what’s going on?” “Nothing, I’m sorry. I just…I need to leave, I need space.” she said “I’m so sorry Frank…” Frank took a deep breath, and watched as she turned to leave. After a second he hurried after her into the hallway, shaking his head.

“Lissy, please…talk to me…” he all but begged as she walked to the door. She made to open it but Frank was behind her and placed his hand firmly on the top of the PVC, causing it to shut. She spun round and looked up at him, the tears now pouring down her face.

“Please, Frank…don’t make this any harder than it is…” her voice was broken, and she shook her head. “I don’t understand what THIS is?” he looked at her, running a hand through his hair as he felt the stinging of tears in his own eyes “Last month we were talking about buying a house together and now you just wanna break it off, for no reason? Baby, just…whatever is going on, we can work through it, just talk to me.”

“I’m so sorry…” she whispered, “Just…let me out…please…”

He looked at her again, her eyes bouncing across his and he knew instantly he couldn’t stop her, and would never do that to her either, no matter how much he so desperately wanted to lock the door and force her to tell him what the fuck was going on. So with a sniff he forced himself to step back and her hand went to the door knob, her shoulders shaking.

“Liss, please…” he said, his voice cracking. “Don’t do this…”

She took a deep breath and opened the door, the warm air from outside hit him in the face before the click of the latch hit his ears as the door shut behind her, leaving him stood alone in the hallway, stunned and utterly, utterly broken.

[ranposlittle]

Hey! I have a request! Could you do a Poe x Shy Poet reader? The reader insecure of themselves and their work but one day decided to share their work with Poe , and how tries to make them feel better about their work? (If you need some poetry for the reader I’ve wrote some poems I can give you one! Even tho I’m also insecure about my work) Sfw but fluffy please!

Genre: SFW, Fluff

Tags: Confession, Comfort

A/N: Here it is, poe-is-bean! I hope the fluff is enough and you find it worth the looong wait. Thank you so much for sharing your own poems to me (theyre great) and I hope I did them some justice ;-; ENJOYYY~ ٩( ๑^ ꇴ^)۶

((EDIT!!! idk if the read more break can be seen on mobile but when i was editing, there's a break after the ask & idk how to fix it so im so sorry aaa))

***

The room is so empty

I can hear my own heartbeat

Day and Night

The sound of pencil on paper

It echos

I just want someone to talk to

Someone to hold me close

To make the room feel less empty

The words faded on the white paper as the ink on your pen ran out. You clicked your tongue and sighed as you look around the park you're sitting at. Just the cherry on top of your already dismal day, you thought.

It was a cloudy day but you squinted at the harsh light of the sun peeking slightly through the wispy clouds. You leaned back on the warm bench and closed your tired eyes. You slowly inhaled the delicious summer air but your chest feels as hollow as the tube of ink inside your pen.

"Karl! No!"

A voice suddenly rang from somewhere near and as you sluggishly open your eyes to peek, something heavy and fuzzy landed on your lap, causing you to shriek and jump from your seat. Your heart raced from the surprise, but as you quickly realized that it was just a raccoon who got attracted by the leftover peanuts you have on your side, you heaved a sigh of relief.

"No! Stop that!" A man with messy hair and an outfit that's undoubtedly too hot for the weather rushed to you. His eyes are barely visible through his dark overgrown hair but it wasn't able to hide the handsome features beneath.

"It-it's okay," you said shyly, mentally hitting yourself for stuttering. "He can have it. I don't mind."

"I really do apologize," the unknown man said, his voice low and trembling. He scratch his temple in embarrassment. "Karl is just crazy for peanuts lately."

You just gave him a meek smile and fiddled with the notebook on your lap. You thought about how cute it is that he has a pet raccoon, how cute it is that he named it with such a humanly name, and how cute he is.

Wait, what.

Heat rushed from your body and up to your face, feeling foolish for having such a thought with someone you just met. You hunched to hide your face, fearing the stranger would see the blush covering your cheeks.

"Can I sit with you?" He asked, snapping you away from your thoughts. "M-my name is Edgar, by the way. Edgar Allan Poe."

Your eyes traveled up his slender form. Despite his dark clothing, his timid and humble appearance made it easier for you to let him enter into your space. He thanked you and asked for your name in return. And just like that, your otherwise usual and grey day became colorful like the evening sky as you sat there beside him, familiarizing yourselves with each other while the innocent racoon eat the rest of the stale peanuts on the bench.

Is this a dream?

Is it real?

He was so close

Yet so far

We sat together for hours

The time was ours

But now it’s not

It slipped away

So quickly

Birds chirped around you as you looked up from your writing, searching through your surroundings and hoping to see the stranger once again. The more hours that passed, the more that you're starting to believe that it was just all somehow a vivid hallucination. You sighed in defeat and eyed another blank spot on your notebook. You thought about writing another poem about how sometimes, it's better to stay in an illusion than face reality because at least in your daydreams, wonderful things happen.

You pressed the tip of your pen on the paper to write the first letter of your work when all of a sudden, the ink bled all over the page, causing you to spat a curse under your breath. You quickly handled the situation, making sure that your clothes and the rest of your notbeook isn't affected by another one of your daily misfortunes. You groaned and pulled out the wipes out of your bag, aggressively wiping the stubborn ink blots on your hand.

"Um, are you okay, (Y/N)?"

You glared up to the quiet voice that called out your name. The tightness of your facial muscles from frowning slowly loosening up as you recognize the figure in front of you.

Poe's tall physique shaded you from the blazing sun and from where you are sitting, he looked just like a dream; a mirage that manifested out of your imagination and into your reality.

"I'm... I'm okay," you mumbled. Your heart thumped heavily against your ribcages as you remain frozen, your wide eyes glued to him as if you're scared that he'll disappear if you blink.

He flashed you a bright smile and gingerly sat beside you. Poe eyed the notebook on your lap and saw the familiar structure of the words on it.

"You write poems?" He asked with excitement evident on his voice, pulling you back to the ground. As Poe reached out to have a closer look with the item, you swiftly pulled away.

"Don't!" You exclaimed. The volume of your voice made nearby passerbys turn their heads on your direction and Karl critter on Poe's shoulder as if by surprise, too.

Poe was taken aback by your reaction as well but being a creator himself, he quickly understand that there is a certain reservation an artist have with its works. He understands the insecurity of being not good enough or questioning yourself as to why are you even trying when there's always someone out there that can do better than you. He knows the feeling very well.

"I'm sorry," he said calmly. "I know an artist's works are always very personal. I shouldn't have intruded."

Guilt spilled all over you and spread a bitter taste on your mouth. "I'm sorry, too," you sighed after a while. "I'm just not ready to show it to anyone yet. It's not your fault."

"I understand. I am a writer myself," Poe said with a gentle smile. "However, if the time has come when you've finally found the courage within you to be proud of yourself and your creations as an extension of yourself, it'll be my pleasure if you'll have me as the first person that would ever lay eyes on it."

Poe's words echoed to the deepest parts of your being. You felt bare to the bones, like everything that you've tried so hard to hide is just somehow exposed for him to see. Gone was his timid character and he's now exuding confidence; a sense of sureness in everything that can only come to people who has been through the ringer and survived to be an inspiration. Your eyes glistened to see another layer of his natural mystique unfold in front of you. Right then, you were filled with the hunger to know more, to uncover more, and to see more of his fascinating self.

Karl climbed down from Poe's shoulder, searched for something on his layered clothes and ran to your lap with an object wedged between his pointy mouth.

"It's a gift," Poe explained when Karl dropped an expensive looking pen in front of you. "I hope you never stop creating, despite of life's minor inconveniences."

"Would you meet me here again tomorrow?" You asked without you even realizing that you were speaking aloud and feeling the weight of your question only after it's done.

Poe tensed up on his seat. Your question was unexpected and it made his own heart raced for a reason he can't quite explain. However, seeing your eyes looking more alive than when he first met you delighted him and he gave you a humble smile.

"Karl has an appointment with the vet tomorrow," he said with his usual gentle voice. "But we can meet at the cafe nearby after."

Your heart soared way above the cloudless sky that day as a big smile stretched your lips and you felt like you haven't smiled like this for a while now. You accepted his invitation and noted the place and time on your notebook. For the first time in a long time, you felt thankful. You thank yourself for being able to push the words out, albeit almost unconsciously, and you thanked life. Despite the mishaps and blunders it brings you everyday, it gave you the opportunity to meet someone. A someone who made you look at everything in beautiful colors you don't even see before. You view everything so differently now; everything including yourself.

Months have passed since that fateful day and you still can vividly remember how your world shifted from then on like it was just yesterday. You meet Poe with any spare time you have and with every moment you spent with him, you got to know all of the layers of his being and in return, he got to know yours. You felt like you're rediscovering yourself as you open up to him. You felt freer. As time went on, a certain feeling crept up on you. It was a strange but awfully familiar feeling that sits inside your chest, like an everlasting bonfire that warms you up from inside out.

The paperback cover of the notebook crunched as you gripped on it tightly. Your mind is foggy with nervousness and immediately doubting if you've made the right decision to finally show him your poems. You shifted on the same bench you sat the first time that you've met and you waited for Poe, all kinds of imaginary scenarios playing in your head in the meantime.

"Hey, (Y/N)!"

You finally heard his familiar voice, a sound that no music can compare to. He was cheerily waving at you, you waved back and nervously greeted him. You laid peanuts on the bench for Karl and he happily hopped off of Poe's back to get on his treats.

"So, you've finally found your courage, huh?" He said before sitting down on his usual spot beside you. "I'm really proud of you, (Y/N). I know it wasn't easy. This is a big step for you and I want to thank you for choosing me."

Your anxiety dissipated in a snap. The flames on your heart grew bigger and brighter with his encouraging words. This tender moment solified your suspicion; you're absolutely, undoubtedly, sincerely in love with him.

"No, Poe," you replied, "I should be the one thanking you. You're the one who showed me that I have that courage inside me in the first place. I can't even begin to explain how you've changed my life."

"Well, that's what art is for, isn't it? To help us express what our words can't," Poe said, his warm smile never leaving his lips. "Besides, my words wouldn't mean anything if you didn't made the decision yourself. It's all you, (Y/N). Give yourself more credit, won't you?"

You beamed at him, the fluttering feeling on your chest continue to grow and filled every part of your being where you used to feel hollow. Your fears disappeared and you handed him your notebook like you're handing him your heart. Poe reached out for it, handling it as gently as you would a china doll.

You sighed contently and gaze at the clear sky above you as you let Poe flip through the pages of your notebook like you're letting him flip through the pages of your life. Every experience you've went through, every emotions, every secret thoughts and desires and everything that lead up to the person you are now; all of them contained in a single book.

Karl muched on the last peanut you laid out for him as Poe reached the last poem.

 Love, what a beautiful thing

It makes my heart flutter

No matter how much I mutter

I always stutter

Those simple words

It races when he’s near

And falls when he’s far

Why can’t I tell him?

Poe's concealed eyes widened and his racing heartbeat vibrated on his whole body. He knows it's an absurd thought to assume the poem is about him but somehow, he was certain that it was. He thought that perhaps it's just wishful thinking brought by his delirious affection he's been hiding from you for a time now.

"You're really promising, (Y/N)," his voice wobbled as he said your name and he cleared his throat as he tried to give you a more constructive feedback. "I can really feel the emotions on your works. Every artist has their own way of making art and you shouldn't feel insecure with how you choose to express yourself. Art isn't about pleasing other people, it's only about you. If you're confident with yourself and your work, other people will reflect that. All you have to do is to stay true to yourself. And as far as I know, you are capable of making more beautiful poems, because you're beautiful."

The distant sounds of people and animals in the busy park rang as the both of you froze on your spots, equally taken aback by Poe's compliment.

"I–I–I mean, you're a great person, that's all," Poe stammered, full of worry for his well-kept secret.

You turned your blushing face away from him and chewed on your lips. Thoughts on whether you should finally admit to him your feelings rushed through your mind. Karl, finished with his snack, climbed on your lap and looked at you as if he's conveying a message. You know that he's probably just asking if you have any more peanuts for him but at that moment, you took it as an encouragement for you to tell him about the nagging feeling inside you that occupies every corner of your mind.

"The last poem," you told Poe while looking at the ground, "I wrote it for you."

Poe once again picked up the notebook, turned it on the last entry and re-read it. He felt like he's being choked out of air as he drowned on the exuberant joy he's feeling as he realized what you meant. His head whipped at your direction, looking at your fidgeting form and felt an urge.

He moved closer to you and gently called out your name. When you turn your head to face him, he reached out and touched your cheek. His finger traced along your jawline and ended on your chin. Although his eyes are barely visible, you can see the solemnity of his gaze and your heart skipped a beat.

"I feel the same way, (Y/N)," Poe confessed as his thumb caressed your lower lip.

You were happy. You were happier than you've ever been in your entire life and yet, your eyes strained as tears threatened to fall. You smiled at Poe and slowly closed your eyes, giving him the permission his gentle touches are asking.

Poe's lips closed in on yours and the rest of the world was quiet as you return his kiss, letting your feelings unravel and tangle against each other. Everything felt right, like every puzzle piece has been put in their place and the picture is complete. You felt the satisfaction, the pleasure, the joy and the pride. You finally understood why there are so many stories, poems, songs and artworks about love. It's just one of those things that can only be truly explained through art. One thing is certain in your head now: love, it is truly such a beautiful thing.

[stipethom]

I wrote some Cablepool fics some months ago but proofreading is such a bitch, so they were incomplete for now. I’m just gonna post some parts of it and hopefully there are more Cablepool people who loves mpreg as I do.

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In summary, Mpreg theme uses pregnancy to describe how women and gender/sex minorities are impregnated with the unspeakable powers of patriarchy. Pregnancy is not just a biological phenomenon; it symbolizes embodied experiences, where women’s body is changed and exploited as it bear the burden of child labor. And by forcing such changes upon male body, it declares that any sex and gender that is seen less than a “man” can thus be a “woman”, and that whoever they are their struggles and pains are similar to that of women’s in this world.

In mpreg fics, there’ll be tears, fight, divorce, and broken hearts. It’s fan-favorite melodrama. It’s barnyard humor. It’s self-service to the writer’s own kink.

It is all of these. Or, it’s none of these.

-

They put all kinds of wires to link Wade with medical equipments. X-rays him, scans him, takes some blood from him. They declares that what’s inside Wade is not a parasite. Not another tumor nor a clog. It is, as the tag suggests, a fetus.

Some other X-students gathers as soon as the word is out: the Deadly mouthy ‘pool’s pregnant. The next session, Wade is unhappy with the amount of audience in the supposed waiting room, looking expectedly at him. From hindsight, it’s better they were there at the time, to spare Wade the horrors of explanation.

Unplanned male pregnancy should have been a comic relief since it’s Deadpool. But when the results indicate that it belongs to a certain Nathan Summers, who recently died, it is no longer a joke.

Cyclops, as his role in any other Cablepool fics, has to be the last one to know it. He learns of the identity of his future grandchild and immediately decides to rushe back to the mansion to confront whatever nightmare awaits him. He briefly talks to Hank, in order to prepare himself before talking to Wade. Eventually, a consultation team that comprises of Cyclops and Beast visits Wade’s at his apartment, who just comes back with discounted pregnancy tests from CVS.

“We must talk about your condition, Wade.” Scott says solemnly.

“Sorry, Grandpaclops, will remember to use protection next time. Guess I should never underestimate dicks from the future.”

Scott clenches his teeth. His expression is hidden under his ruby optics, but Wade can see the tiny creases around his mouth, and he gets the feeling that Scott is anxious. Ans so, so very tired. Hank clears his throat and starts talking about his discoveries. Half of his talk is explaining his daring theory of why life form can be conceived inside a male’s body, which Wade doesn’t listen to. The other half is some warmings on what a pregnant man should not do. Given Wade’s profession and personality, Hank makes 100% sure that Wade listens to him. Scott seems to be holding breath as the other mutant talks with a professional calmness.

The talk ends with “We still don’t know exactly how it happened, but It’s going to be a big responsibility—your responsibility.”

Scott tries again. He keeps his voice strategically even, a little raspy than usual, as if he practiced this conversation in front of a mirror too many times.

“It’s yours, as much as it’s Nathan’s. It’s up to you to ... keep it.”

“Or you can move into the X-mansion—”Hank stops promptly when Wade starts laughing.

“So your guys are what, showing parental support for the guy your son never actually married, and you never even doubt it’s a parasite?”

“We ruled out that possibility.” Hank says, “you know, you don’t have to do this.” He pauses briefly, making sure every sentence is carefully worded. “After what happened, you—in fact, nobody should do this alone. It’s unfair that you have to deal with it on your own.”

Great, now they think of Wade as some mourning ex-lover of Nate’s. He has to find something witty to say, or he’ll just embarrasses himself in front of these two good-intentioned, somewhat guilty-looking X-men. There’s a sorry somewhere that he can reads directly from the thin air, sorry we are so sorry for pushing you away, we are sorry we didn’t accept you—and ignored your feelings— now we are here to make it up for you. No, this ain’t right. They don’t know about him and Nate. All they see is this, which makes them assume all kinds of things about them, about Wade, that Wade doesn’t even want to think about.

He decides to take advantage of their out-of-no-where-guilt because it is better than pity, “OK, wait, is this the part where we hug and cry on each other’s shoulders? I have a feeling there’s always a but. Besides, Hank, you just violated the confidentiality agreement without my consent!”

“I’m truly sorry, it’s an unprecedented situation.” Hank tries not to look shameful. “And, no, no buts. All we’re offering is a place to rest before the, that is, if you want to keep it, It’s very important when it comes to—“

“Nathan’s spawn.” Wade helps him finish the sentence. “That’s why you X-men fucking care. “

Cyclops doesn’t say a word, but he thinks so loud, he is practically radiating sadness and anger, and worst of all, the anger is not even directed at Wade.

Wade snaps.

“Tell you what, I’m gonna fucking keep this little shit till it’s got eyes and fingers and then I’ll fucking abort it! I’ll put it in a filthy jar and sell it to Mister Sinister, and it will be none of your fucking business!”

—

Of course Wade didn’t abort it. And he did move into the X-mansion.

Everyone seems worried. After all, X-men are worried all the time—but they also look slightly relieved. If Wade ignores the eyes they are giving him, the whispers they exchange when they think he is not looking, he almost feels nothing has changed at all.

The big question, after the several years after Nate died, still hangs in the air. Every time someone looks at Wade, there’s a why in their eyes. A mutant like Nate, who is supposed to be a man of proper taste and good integrity, the reasons that he chose to be with Wade is unthinkable.

Any sane human would tell Nate what he did is ridiculous. Like the voice in the back of Wade’s mind. It tells Wade all the time that he cannot possibly believe that him and Nate could last any longer—or long enough to have any consequences.

Being pregnant is not the consequences. It’s the last one of the bad decisions he’s made after all the other ones. He knows the voice is right, and his life sucks mostly because he doesn’t listen to it. This time, he feels a certain remorse satisfaction in disobeying the remaining sense of reason in his head.

Keeping the baby to prove a point is as desperate as it’s poorly intended.

He knows how fucked-up this is.

—

In hindsight, it’s fucking creepy that Wade, Copycat, and Domino all slept with Nate.

Here she is, gonna pop open that can of worms.

Domino has to come to him at his most inconvenience. She knocks three times on the door, each time more curt and determined. She will probably shoot a hole in the wall to make a new door if he doesn’t let her in.

Wade opens the door, grimaces at the way she look at him and meet his eyes. He is a good few inches taller than Dom, but he never feels big in front of her.

She brings in an air of feline elegance and the fresh scent of hair shampoo. It’s endearing for her to allow people to see her like this, yet not entirely unguarded. He catches the innuendo of a more secret, private conversation.

Her eyes touch him lightly, hair flares with the effortless chic style many would be jealous of. There are a hundred things Wade lacks that she owns.

The night is getting dark and the wind is getting wild, he probably should close the window before the storm.

Dom is less of a coward than him, who could barely come up to people and tell them the truth. That he got himself into this long before he understood the true meaning of having someone and then losing them.

She is pretty and deadly as always, not jadded by battles and gunfire. She looks at him with a sadness of someone who think they have the pieces of a puzzle that Wade misses. Or at least they think they know.

“Why do you keep him, the baby—.” She leans against the wall, arms crossed. “He’s not going to be Nate. Nate is not here anymore.“

“Wow, wow, lady, now you’re just projecting too hard.”

“Wade, look. It took me a hell lot of drinking to accept that he’s really gone this time.” She keeps her voice steady and manages to be soft at the same time. “I hear you talk to him like, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m not projecting.”

“Just so you know, I talk to my tummy all the time. Totally healthy habit. Been like this since I’m in my mom’s womb.”

“You’ve been talking to him and you sounded like—never mind.” Now she is just being weird. Wade feels offended that someone dare to outweird him without his royal permission. “The baby—you are drowning him with things he’s not part of.”

“Drowning would be a damn boring way to die.” He comments. “In fact, I’m whispering murder thoughts to him so he can grow up into a killing machine. A cyborg one. Just like his dad.”

“Wade, I’m not trying to take anything from you.”

“Oh sure, you’re here to remind me to invite you for the baby shower, which I am seriously going to reconsider with the guest list.”

A strip of dark hair falls on her cheek as she hesitates.

“You know why I’m here.”

Honestly, Wade’s fed up with this. He didn’t respond, instead, he peels off his mask, challenges her to look directly into his eyes.

She looks flustered, but her thin shoulders are as still as granite. This close, Wade can see how her breast heaves under her loosely-fit shirt. It fucking hurts when he rips through her facade and finds something a lot like the reflection of his own pains. They both had Nate in the past, and now that Nate is the past, they are weirdly equal. They had different Nates, but Wade wants all the Nates.

The voice in his head is so loud that he can barely think his own thoughts. Is that why he came to her after Wade left Providence, for her is smart enough to ask for only what she deserves?

Does she come here to pity Wade, or is she seeking compassion from Wade? He feels an old, dull bitterness creeping up his spine.

Domino backs off a little, “I never liked you.” She says. They both know it, so it’s not really a confess. Something is blown in to the window, making a cracking sound. Both of them shiver. “I couldn’t believe it was you, of all people. “Oh, so she did care. She was not as nonchalant as she pretends to be. “But now you are-you are not just yourself-I don’t want to fight you anymore.”

It stings.

“Does that mean I can finally make your face my new bathroom tiles? Because I love baby poo on black and white.” He quirks a smile. “Oh, And by the way, I reject your nanny application. Bring your broom next time.”

“You hate me for a dead man.” She says dryly, “what does that make you...”

Her voice hitches.

“What does that make us. If we are still loyal to him.”

The wind is loud, and others must be awakened by the noises by now. If wind could talk, it must be full of broken sentences, murmuring and fleeing from the untrimmed trees, circulating in the flying dirt and the waving foliage. Some sleepless mutant girls on the second floor mutters in an annoyed voice.

Dom reaches out to him. Her arms are pale but firm. They are suddenly within the distance of a kiss. He feels his cracked lips nearly brushes hers like a breath.

She jumps back, hitting the nearest surface to her face. The window panes creak from the shockwave, sending the whole room whirls. For a moment they were close enough to dig out each other’s heart. The framed painting falls to the ground in broken pieces behind them. It is relatively intact until Neena steps on it.

“A hard loser, aren’t you.” Wade breathes.

Neena just smiles.

“It’s just you who can’t let go.”

She stubbles on the cracked frame before storming into the bathroom. Wade hears the hot water pours out of the faucet and makes maps of mist on the hanging mirror. Her reflection from the mirror shifts, and from Wade’s angle, he can see her tears.

A small sob sound leaks out of her beautiful mouth. Wade feels envious yet again. He doesn’t understand why it changes how Dom sees him, as if sharing pain with him would be some comfort for both of them. But it doesn’t, he wants to scream, and it shouldn’t. He hears other mutant kids are giggling through the wind, and he is so, so envious of them.

Before he closes his eyes, he feels a light patting on his shoulders, and then all the light runs out with the slapping of the door.

He knows this is fucked-up.

“Nate,“ he murmurs, “If you don’t plan yo come back, I don’t think I can survive this—your too-young-too-be-dad dad, your ex-girlfriend, and your very possessive and angry daughter who refuses to meet me yet—I now understand why you want to elope with me into the future. I’ll forgive you for never asking me to actually run with you, but I know you always wanted to.“

“It’s fucking worse when people try to care. They don’t know you. They don’t know how fucked up you are. All they want is to keep a memoir, and I’m their freaking memoir. What did we have, sweetheart, did we ever agree on anything, huh? Did you even think about what it would be like for us to be together long enough to have consequences?”

“You see, Nate, I’m the one living with the consequences now. Except that you’re not here.”

[okimargarvez]

INCONVENIENCE OF BEING ROOMMATE

Original title: Terzo incomodo (o Quello che può succedere uscendo con l’inquilino di Penelope Garcia).

Prompt: Luke asks Penelope to stay in his apartment until she will find a new one.

Warning: post 13x6.

Genre: funny, romantic.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, female O.C., Roxy, Sergio.

Pairing: Garvez; Luke x O.C.

Note: oneshot 58 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💏😘🐶🎈🎵.

Song mentioned: No vacancy, One Republic feat Tiziano Ferro.

GARVEZ STORIES

INCONVENIENCE OF BEING ROOMATE

 * the move

Penelope watches her colleague walk up the stairs to her (now ex) apartment. -Look, you weren't forced to come.- she tells him when he's close enough to hear her. -Just because we will live under the same roof for a while, this doesn’t mean that we will have to do everything together.- it's not that she always go looking or studying for them, often these kinds of jokes come out naturally to her, especially with him.

A familiar grimace bends Luke's lips. -No?- he asks, inclining his head to one side, making a falsely meditated gesture. -Too bad.- he finally exclaims, when they are practically at the same height. For a few seconds they simply stare at each other in silence.

She recovers first. -Ha, ha, funny, roommate.- she calls him on purpose. The man seems to like the choice. -Now, since you're here, let's take advantage of those muscular arms that Mother Nature gave you.- she moves away to let him enter. Luke looks around. He still remembers what he had felt the first time he had been there, only a few months before, when Garcia had invited them all to celebrate the search for a responsible inebriation. It was impossible not to be struck by every detail: the colors of the walls, the paintings, every single accessory. And now only the bare walls remained of all that rainbow.

He turns to her and bends his arm, imitating a body builder. -Do you like my muscles?- he asks, winking. Penelope remains just two thousandths of a second without words, so she rolls her eyes, unable to hide a smirk altogether.

-Did I say this?- she replies in the same tone, then gives him a little push (taking advantage of it to touch that arm that seems to have been carved in the marble by Michelangelo). -C’mon, there is a bit of stuff.- he doesn’t know if he should consider it a kind of encouragement. There are boxes of all shapes and sizes almost everywhere.

-A bit it's an euphemism.- he exclaims, chuckling. Penelope doesn’t replicate anything and bends down to begin. It is not easy to leave the place where she lived for years. Where she found her identity and risked dying. -Wait, don't lift that box, it's too weigh.- his hands overlap her and the blonde stays enchanted watching the contrast of the amber fingers with hers pale. Then she forces herself to recover from the daydream.

-Luke Alvez, who do you think I am?- she leaves the box anyway, mostly to avoid feeling other shocks down her spine. -Do you think I’m a girl who is afraid of breaking a fingernail?- she challenges him with her eyes and he doesn’t hold back.

Luke doesn't even seem to realize the weight of what he has in his hands, but who knows what he brought when he was at war. Why is it so difficult to imagine him in this context? -No, but I would be sorry if it happened or if you would be hurt.- he comments, before going in the direction of the stairs, instead of the elevator. She follows him, with various bags scattered, more than it would be recommended to carry together.

-Hell, nobody can't argue with you.- he hears her muttering, and smiles. They mostly continue working in silence and communicate with looks. Mainly he limits himself to instruct her to leave him the heaviest boxes and she reminds him that this is still her home, and then gives up. Luke also notices slight hesitations every time they pass through the inner courtyard, on the steps at the entrance to the apartment complex. It has been too little time since he heard JJ's report (but even if had been twenty years, he wouldn’t have forgotten it); it is terrible to have to accept that right there a bastard shot her and even if by now not only a a spot of blood is longer distinguished, it is certain that she can still see it clearly).

It is late evening when the man closes the door. -Is there anything else?- he asks, just for confirmation. Penelope shakes her head. Her blond hair frames her white face, made even clearer by the adrupt drop in temperatures.

-No.- in fact, she shudders, climbing into the passenger seat and placing Sergio's cage in the center, not particularly happy with all this fuss. -You've seen, in the end it wasn't so much stuff.- she comments, turning slightly to look at him while they fasten their belts. -There is still a place for something else.- she also smiles at him, continuing to turn her back to the building she called home for years, with all its pros and cons.

Luke seems to understand it and, in any case, he smiles too. -On the van, not to mention the truck, which lent me one of my comrades.- he specifics, however, turning on the engine and leaving. She puts her hands clasped on her knees. For once (the first, without a shadow of a doubt) she wears pants and not a skirt or dress in his presence. Definitely a logistic choice and dictated by reason, but not for this motive the effect was less destabilizing on him.

-Thank him for me and...- a break, full of possibilities. But man is destined to be disappointed. -...is he nice?- only his being aware of the consequences that could occur even if just for a slight oversight forces him to stay with his eyes on the road.

But it doesn’t prevent him from shouting -Garcia!- in an incredulous and reproachful voice.

She shrugs. -That's there, I thought maybe I could reciprocate the favor by cooking some biscuits.- she throws it there, improvising with the first thing that comes to her mind and seeming extremely credible.

Luke fails to prevent that mischievous smile from reappearing, half grimace and not even to pose a provocative question that hides much more sincerity than she believes. -And me? How would you like to thank me?- he winks and finshes at center stage, because in front of the blonde's retinas pass unmistakable images, forbidden to minors of eighteen, sinful thoughts, disordered frames and sufficiently blurred shots to make difficult to recognize the protagonists of the clip. And sounds, it would be better to say verses, masculine and girly ones.

She swallows and turns to the window, to hide the redness on her cheeks, certainly not due to embarrassment, but to an internal heat. -Just the fact that I treat you as a person instead of a Newbie seems to me something you should be happy about.- he merely nods without repeating anything and leaving her at the mercy of doubt.

 *The invasion

The day after the only signs of the sleepless night due to the disorientation of being in a strange bed, in a foreign house (but which she will have to start to consider differently) are internal. Outside the blonde's face looks as fresh as a daisy, while she scolds her colleague for the fifteenth time. -Luke, don't touch that box!- she hurries and almost trips, just to anticipate him. -Have you heard me?- the man helps her to regain her balance, so he looks at her (taking the opportunity to give her a nice exclusive look and being disappointed to see that she already done her makeup, she doesn't have a single strand out of place, like at work) confused.

-Why? I just wanted to help.- she seems struck by something that she catches in his eyes. Perhaps fragments of sincerity, of purity mind.

She nods. -Yes, but there are some things that...- she gesticulates, unable to explain without revealing too much -…in short, I prefer that they stay safe, sealed in my room, whose access is allowed only under my concession.- she particularly emphasizes the possessive adjective, placing both hands on the lid of the box to accentuate the concept. Luke chuckles, but he doesn't just seem amused.

He scratches his head. -Uh, and what should I do to obtain the privilege?- without realizing, he leans as far as possible towards her, keeping only a few centimeters of distance between their bodies.

Not even the woman realizes it, although she finds herself asking aloud the question that is spinning on her head. -Why should you want to enter the only room where you can't go freely?- and for once, there is no trace of malice in her tone, only pure crystalline naivety and the effect is like that of water on flames: not always extinguishes the fire, sometimes it makes it even more powerful and devastating.

He is still approaching a few millimeters. -For the taste of the forbidden.- he teases her, never taking his eyes off her. -Or maybe because you're there.- he admits, not even doing a lot of effort, with an intense tone, which she ignores beautifully.

-Ha ha, still try to seem funny, you're really nice.- she gives him a little push and he reluctantly decides to settle.

-I know.- he looks around. -How long do you think it will take to unbox everything?- he asks, just to continue to have an excuse to talk to her, stay close to her, so as not to lose the grip on the thin thread that binds him to her.

Penelope gives him a dirty look. -You took me for an expert in removals or for Reid?- she still managing to make him laugh. -I have no idea!- she shrugs. -This is the first time I change my house, since...- she changes mind at the last- since many years.- and then, again, she understands that she must say it aloud, to be really free from her past. -Since I left Shane.- Luke never heard that male name come out of her lips before, but he immediately realizes that it's not a relative, nor a friend.

He then takes that step that separated them without thinking twice. -Hey, I didn't want to make you think about bad things.- he adds in a low voice, gently stroking her arm and marveling that she doesn't chase him away instantly.

-But imagine!- she replies, with a little voice that is a bit too fragile to be credible. -It is a thing of the past.- with a shock she seems to shake off everything. -All right, if you really want to help me, I'll satisfied you.- Luke smiles already. -And in return you can come in my room, with warning, it's clear, once a week.- he pauses to think about the perspective that opens up before his eyes.

-But?- he finally asks, already feeling the nostalgia of the contact with her arm.

-But what?- she repeats, not understanding where he wants to go.

The man shrugs. -Surely there will be a but, or a rip-off.- he explains, catching a weak fist in the side. -Ouch!- he exclaims, intensifying tones in a theatrical way.

-You deserved it.- Penelope replies anyway. -However... my condition, no, that sounds bad.- he chuckles, knowing that he will never get tired of her messy way of talking. -I was saying... my proposal, I already like it, better, I said, my proposal is...- Luke expects some kind of torture, so much so that when she finally explains her idea, he is almost disappointed -that you give me permission to change something even in the rest of the house.- the blonde seems to read who knows what protest in the man's brown eyes. -Not your room, let it be in roughing style, even if I'm sorry for Roxy...- she hastens to specify, losing the train of her thought again. -By the way, where is my wad of fur and love?- the laughter that was being born, instantly turns into a sweet smile, dripping love and adoration to such an extent that it is really hard to understand how both can ignore it.

-My best friend is caring of her, Phil.- he explains anyway, when he recovers.

-Oh.- she nods, then a light passes in front of her. -Is he nice?- in this case it is clear to both of them that she is not really interested in the answer, but to provoke him and tease him.

And he is in her game. -Garcia! Anyway, I accept your offer.- he continues to smile at her, he has never stopped. -Shall we seal the deal with a handshake?- Penelope's answer is certainly not expected.

-And what would you like, otherwise, a kiss?- and she almost feels bad that he doesn't answer affirmatively.

Only at the end, Luke understands that the quality of the objects of his (officially) roommate is far greater than the quantity. They throw themselves down on the sofa next to each other, too tired to notice how close their bodies are.

-So now that everything is exposed... what do you think?- she asks him, not forcing herself to disguise how much she cares about his opinion, but answering in her own mind that simply depends by the willing of having a quiet life. -You must be sincere, you know that I realize if you tell a lie.- she warns him and both end up thinking about two years before and of peanut butter biscuits.

For the same reason, Luke keeps his gaze fixed on her as he speaks. -I love it.- he says simply, proud of his response, because other words wouldn’t serve to enrich the concept. She continues to observe him for a few more seconds, scrutinizes every single detail of his expression.

-What?- but the man doesn’t yield. -If you're kidding me...- and he stops her protest by simply raising his hand.

-No, seriously, I like having few things, you know, we talked about it right the day you were complaining about your ex-neighbor kunf fu naked...- for a moment he risks losing the train of his thought (like her) -but your stuff...- his eyes fly beyond the woman -I don't know, it seems to me that the atmosphere is warmer, more welcoming.- he almost stutters at the end, and even a little blushes. -It looks like a lot more a house, now.- he ends in a sigh.

But his efforts are amply repaid. -Oh, Luke!- exclaims Penelope, her voice clearly moved, before jumping on him to hug him. Just as suddenly she pulls away. -Sorry, it was... I was catch by the atmosphere.- she justifies herself, even if judging by the enormous smile of the man, there would be no need at all.

-You’re welcome.- he answers in fact, with the heart that echoes in his ears.

 *the routine

-Pen, did we buy the paper towel?- it feels strange to hear him talk like that. Both the fact that he uses a diminutive, something that no one (except Shane) has ever done, or for the whole extremely relaxed tone, but above all the use of the plural: we. As if they were something, a couple, that's it. A duo, sentimentally speaking.

She is sitting at the table in the kitchen; he has opened all the doors of every cupboard. -Yes, open the locker in front of you.- she says, without even looking up. And the lost object is exactly where she said.

-Thanks.- as soon as she turns around, he notices something strange in her expression. -What is it?- he asks, sitting down right in front of her.

She turns the spoon in the cup in front of his face, without looking at him. -Nothing, it's just weird not to have a case.- she simply replies, and it's certainly not a lie, but there is something strange in her tone, which makes him think that there is also something else behind.

-Don’t say it too loudly.- he comments however, deciding to keep such suspicions for himself. -Do you know what else is weird for me?- he asks her and the woman finally raises her eyes to meet his. -Find out that you are a morning person.- he provokes her, hoping in this way to send away that melancholy air that makes her seem so different from the usual Garcia.

-Did you think I was lying on the bed all Sunday morning?- she replies in the same tone, stretching her leg to give him a kick, but only managing to tickle his foot.

-No, but...- he understands that if he wants to keep her attention he must open up, say something personal, show her that he trusts her. -I've always had trouble sleeping over seven o'clock.- he then reveals her. -I think it's one of the many gifts of the war.- he adds bitterly. -But I didn't think to find you awake when I returned with Roxy.- yes, it's just seven o'clock on a Sunday morning. And on his return, he found the table laden with all good things, even for dogs and cats. And Penelope, not in pajamas, but not properly dressed for the outside world, but in a casual style, without heels, without make-up on and with her hair in a bun.

-Oh, Alvez, I am a woman of a thousand surprises.- she says, blinking seductively, mainly so as not to be outdone. Luke doesn’t take his eyes off her, running his tongue over his lips with hungry eyes.

-I had noticed.- is all that comes out of his mouth, and who knows why, it doesn't sound like a funny or provocative joke, but rather like the pure truth.

The blonde seems to notice it, at least at an unconscious level, so much so that she backs up until her back is shaped on the chair. -Uh, yup, then, let's have breakfast?- she asks, without waiting for an answer. And already in the previous weeks he had been able to sense her culinary skills, but here the level is so high that one wonders if she is trying to get his heart through his stomach. In that case, the mission could be said to be fully successful. When last only crumbs, traces of the assault, on the tablecloth, Penelope stands up. -I wash the dishes.- she announces, heading towards the sink with plates and glasses.

Luke's hand grabs her by the wrist, risking to make her drop everything. -But no, it is my turn.- he puts himself in feet and the difference in height between them is such as to make her waver for a single moment.

With the other hand, she frees herself from his grip, slowly, by pulling away his fingers one by one. -You can't even consider the days you're out for a case.- she points out, in a calm, rational voice. -And the last time you were here, you washed the dishes, so it's my turn.- she throws him a single sharp look and reaches her goal.

-I surrender in front of your impeccable logic.- he exclaims, raising his arms as if they were about to arrest him, even if she can't see him, because she gives him her back.

-And it's better this way.- confirms the woman with a smirk on her lips.

About an hour later, from the room of Penelope seems to come a song that it's celestial, to say the least. I used to leave the doors unlocked and leave the lights on, I used to stay awake, just counting hours all night long, I had so many empty rooms inside the chateau, Yeah, oh yeah. Luke willingly or unwillingly finds herself outside that closed door, listening to her colleague, friend and now also roommate (but not cohabitant, and here is the essential difference) she sings. I'm done with sharing space with people that I don't know, trading pieces of my heart 'til I felt shallow, I had so many empty rooms inside the chateau, yeah… Despite the noise of the dryer, which clarifies how the woman she is drying her hair (those blond, silky, wonderful hair that wrapped his heart like windings from the first moment), he manages without any problem to hear every single nuance of her voice. But ever since I met you, no vacancy because of you, there's no vacancy, no empty rooms, got no vacancy, ever since I met you… No vacancy because of you… And he finds himself hoping that those words want to say something, that it concerns her moving and above all, them. Hopefully he be the person to whom she is addressed, he who has filled all the rooms always empty inside her... even if the opposite would perhaps be more appropriate. Used to be that I felt so damn empty ever since I met you, no vacancy, used to be that I felt so damn empty, ever since I met you, no vacancy… No vacancy, no vacancy… Because she's the one who bridged every gap in his life; it is the thought of her that makes him come home from a mission anyway with a smile and a serene soul, without taking anything away from Roxy. Before you, only empty, now you fill every room, before you, only empty, now you fill every room... Every room... Every room... A pause, the hairdryer is off; the man senses that she is probably combing now. He imagines being there with her, having the brush in his hands and he is not able to conceive anything more erotic in the world. I used to be the type to never take a chance, oh, had so many walls, you'd think I was a castle… I spent so many empty nights with faces I don't know… He leans on the handle and unintentionally opens the door. Penelope stops instantly.

She is wearing a fuchsia bathrobe, which leaves her legs half-thigh down exposed, tied just below her breast. -Am I bothering you?- is the first thing she thinks and says, rather than insulting him for invading her privacy. This is the straw that breaks the camel’s back of his sanity. -I didn't think about it, I'm used to doing it at home, I meant the house where I lived before and...- he takes a step, only one in her direction.

-No, you don't bother me. At all.- he smiles. -I love hearing you sing. You're very good.- she stares at him intently, her eyes half-closed, her lips tightening to form a line.

-Thanks, but flattery will not get you anywhere.- she warns in a partially playful tone. He nods and turns to go out.

-I was sincere.- he adds however, just before fading away. About ten minutes later she reaches him in the living room wearing an emerald green dress, but, to Luke's delight, still without makeup. -What will you doing, this afternoon?- he asks, watching her sit with the corner of his eye at the other end of the sofa.

-I don't know.- she answers sincerely. -I still have to get used to the environment, to the neighborhood.- she gestures, pointing to the whole universe apart from her. -You know I have difficulty with changes.- he certainly can't keep from giggling.

-Oh, yes, I know.- a little too smug, but this time she decided to spare him.

They spend at least one minute in total silence. -And you?- she finally asks, just to get out of this impasse.

Luke looks her straight in the eye and she seems to be genuinely interested in knowing the answer. -I think I'll go to my friend Phil and then... later there should be a baseball game.- he shrugs. Certainly nothing special, all too trivial by Penelope Garcia's standards.

But she nods and chuckles. -Yeah, you're that type.- she also gives him a slight nudge, more affectionate than playful. -On this you would get along with Morgan, he was also very good at baseball, as a boy.- her gaze flies far, beyond time and space.

-I don't doubt it...- a slight twinge in his side. -And ... how is him?- she seems to try to escape his eyes, but finally gives up. -Did you tell him about the big step?- her cheeks turn red for a few seconds.

-In this way you make it seem like we went to live together... I mean...- she gets mixed up, and he loves her when it happens. And she has noticed ir. -...you understand.- she sighs. -Anyway, he doesn't know it yet.- an idea illuminates the whole face. -Maybe I could call him today.- Luke stands up and before he can stop it, his hand touches her knee.

-Good.- she doesn’t seem to react in any way. -I'm going to change.- he says.

-You don't have to tell me your every move as if I was your bodyguard or your mom.- he hears her scream behind him, and chuckles. He also thinks he heard her humming something a cappella, but perhaps he only imagined it.

He is still thinking of it when, in the middle of a historical hit, his phone starts ringing. While responding with a generic -Alvez-, having his eyes glued to the screen, his best friend teases him asking if this is not his girlfriend.

Penelope barely manages to distinguish a few words in the exchange between the two men, before pronouncing one in her turn. -Luke.- and seems to be enough.

-We have a case, I understand.- he sighs, shakes hands with Phil and recovers the few things he brought with him. -I'll pick you up, can you take my bag?- he feels the hesitation even though they are on the phone. -It's in my room.- he adds then. He listens to her steps on the floor.

-I don't know if it's really...- she tries to protest, but meanwhile she tightens the handle. - ...ok.- her eyes rest on the only object that corresponds to the parameters, perfectly aligned at the foot of the bed. -Found.- he hears her exclaim, but understands how she still has something to comment on. -Damn it, it's not a facade, you're really an orderly type.- she adds a few moments later.

Luke reaches his car, gets on board and slams the door. -And is it a wrong thing?- he asks.

-No, but it is strange for a male bachelor, even if...- he anticipates her, feeling again that thick in the side.

-...Morgan too was like that, I guess.- he says in her place, rolling his eyes in annoyance. Fortunately, the clinic where Phil lives is close to his (their) home. -Come out, I'm on our way.- he announces five minutes later, feeling the end-call click. She goes up, placing Luke's bag at her feet, next to her own and practically they don’t speak until they see the outline of the building in which they work.

Penelope says one word again; a name. -Luke.- but there is urgency in her tone, something that forces him to give her a quick glance.

-What?- he asks only. He expects her to hesitate, to change her mind. He's wrong.

-You'll be careful, won't you?- she asks instead, placing her hand on the male one on the steering wheel. He feels a shiver along the entire spine.

-I'm always careful.- he tries to sound nice and playful, but she doesn't compromise.

He feels her fingernails in the flesh and a dreamlike image passes in front of him: their bodies intertwined and she, while screaming, leaves red marks on his back. Scratches that don't hurt. -I'm serious.- he enters the parking lot entrance, slides his card and the barrier rises. She lets him go.

-Yes, Pen, I will do everything not to get killed.- when they are still in the car, he looks her in the eyes and she does the same. -But do you worry about me?- he exclaims, gloating.

She silences him with a sharp gesture of her hand. -I think it's one of the inconvenience of being roommates.- she replies, before walking quickly towards the elevator, leaving him behind, but giving him a different gift.

 *the guest

It could be any Wednesday night. Just concluded a case in town. Penelope stays silent throughout the short trip, letting him talk freely. -So you are sure it’s okay for you?- he asks her for the umpteenth time, holding the door open gallantly.

-Alvez, it's your kitchen, you can invite whoever you like to dinner.- she replies, with a sharp tone and a little annoyed. This is also why he follows her up, placing a hand in the middle of her back. There are many drawbacks, as she says, of being roommates; but also positive aspects. Among these is the freedom gained in being able to touch her body and be touched in his turn.

-No, that's not true.- he says, barely moving his fingers. -It's also yours and if it bothers you...- she spins around, even to block that kind of caress or massage.

-Why should it?- she looks at him, but doesn’t give him time to reply. -However, I won't even be at home.- she then reveals to him, just as suddenly. -I go out with Kevin. We met and... he asked me to go out with him.- a slight smile brushes the woman's lips. But behind it there aren't so many false hopes not to forget what she feels throwing herself into the arms of an ex... nor to make him jealous. She moves only based on affection.

-Uh.- it's all that comes out of the man's mouth. Once again that stab.

She seems to notice something strange. -Don't worry, I'd never take him here.- she reassures him then, blushing because she doesn't know why she said it. -Now I have to go get ready.- he nods, throwing himself in the shower to do the same. He has always imagined her as one of those women who leave their boyfriend to wait (yes, although to be correct we should specify that he imagined himself in this role and that anyway it would be worth every time, to arrive late to the restaurant), instead she comes out of her room only five minutes after him. She enters the living room and both Roxy and Sergio stare at her. - How do I look?- she asks then, taking a ride on herself and make swirling her skirt. -Luke?- he literally remains speechless. So much so that Penelope approaches, she passes a hand in front of him. -Are you there?- he reacts, blinking several times to focus on her.

-Yes, yes, I... wow.- he finally exclaims, with a sweet smile. -You look stunning.- he admits without embarrassment. She lets herself go into a childish giggle.

-Do you say this as a colleague, as a roommate or as a friend?- she asks him though.

Luke stands up and takes a step in her direction, facing her. -As a man.- their eyes chase each other for a few seconds, while static energy can be felt in the air. -You are beautiful.- then he adds, deciding not to hold in what he feels. And she reads his sincerity in his face.

-Thanks!- she claps her hands together and then caresses his shoulder. -You look very good too.- she says. -So...- they look at each other, perhaps both wondering the same thing. Why are they about to meet other people, when there is nothing in the world that they would like to do more than spend this evening together? Without knowing it, they also dressed in a combination: he was wearing a red shirt and jeans, casual and elegant at the same time; she a red dress with a wide skirt and a jacket (in jeans) in case she was cold -...good luck.- she says, feeling a buzzing in her head.

-Even to you.- he echoes her, a little too late. There is something wrong. -Penelope!- he calls, when she is almost at the door. She turns to look at him, a faint hope shines in her pupils. -What time do you think you're coming back?- Luke asks, and she responds with a grimace. She then decides to activate the maximum protection level.

-I don't know, daddy, I have to send you an SMS first, so I won't find you two in compromising positions?- she provokes him, putting malice in an exponential amount. But the man doesn’t seem to want to laugh.

-I didn't ask for it.- he shakes his head. -Forget it.- she just looks at him. -Have a good evening.- fortunately only a quarter of an hour has passed since Penelope is gone to when the bell starts to ring. -Hi, Micaela.- he greets her, fully enjoying the slight shiver as she smiles at him. She is undeniably a beautiful woman: slender and sporty build, auburn curly hair, green eyes. She's really beautiful, but she's not here for that. She is here because someone has practically forced him to organize this appointment.

-Hello. Am I early?- he shakes his head.

-No, no, come on in. This is my humble abode.- he recites in a deliberately refined tone, making her laugh.

The woman looks around. -Oh, but... I didn't think a lonely man could have so much good taste without being gay.- Luke scratches his head behind, feeling a different kind of puncture. Like a sting in the back, while a little voice in the head reminds him that even when she is absent, it is as if she still were there.

-Well, good, I'm not so lonely...- he finds himself forced to admit. -I have a roommate.- Micaela doesn’t reply anything, she lets him finish. -We... We are colleagues, we work on the same team.- he decides to limit himself to saying, regretting, because he would at least have to present her as also his friend.

But she seems to be satisfied. She nods vigorously. -Oh, I understand.- she looks at the rest of the house, but there seems to be someone else missing. -And where is the dog you told me about?- not even Luke paid any attention to that. Too many thoughts swirling in his head.

-I don't know, it's strange that she wasn't here waiting for me.- she's not in her room, nor in the area dedicated to her, that screams Garcia in every single object. -Roxy!- he calls her. -Rox, come on, we have guests!- then, he has a doubt. He beckons Micaela to wait and opens the door to the only room he cannot show to his guest. And the dog is right on Penelope's bed, next to Sergio. Reluctantly she obeys, goes down and comes out. -Here she is.- but She remains however at a certain distance.

-Hey, honey, come here.- Micaela bends over, but Roxy ignores her. She doesn't growl at her, but she doesn't even show affection. Not even the first time she saw Emily, she was so cold.

Luke shrugs. -She will be on a bad day. Even the dogs have them, after all.- she nods, immediately going beyond the question.

-Yes.- and she even smiles. And it is at that moment that a perverse thought (needless to call it otherwise, even if it doesn0t imply anything sexual) appears in his mind: and if Roxy had behaved in this way with Penelope? Certainly, she would not have let this pass without doing something, she would have accused him of having corrupted her dog, of having persuaded her not to show her affection for spite her or would have started to grumble and whimper, full of pain... -So, let's eat?- the voice of the woman makes him recover. -We can continue the tour of the house later...- there seems to be something mischievous in her eyes, but the man doesn’t catch the message.

-Yes, it's not like there's so much to see.- he says. -Do you prefer to dine outside or inside?- she strokes his arms, naked and velvety, with an apparently innocent manner.

-It’s a little cool, if it's not a problem...- he interrupts her, placing his hand on her shoulder for a second, brushing her.

-But you figured, come on.- the dining room is already ready; he hoped she would answer like that. He also helps her to sit down and think back to the only time he tried to do the same thing with... with her, the light slap on his hand and the blonde's laugh as she asked him if he was training to go out with a real girl , one day.

-Thanks.- Micaela repays him instead. -What a gentleman.- she exclaims, blinking seductively. -Phil had told me, but...- Luke goes around the table, sitting in front of her.

-You don't have to believe at his loudmouth.- he mutters, blushing without an apparent reason.

She still seems to appreciate this reaction too. -For now you have proved yourself far above expectations.- she reveals, before taking a sip of wine in an extremely elegant way, a way that would make any straight man move. He is actually staring at her carefully, until both hear a sound like something heavy that has fallen, coming from one of the adjoining rooms. -What was it?- she asks, more confused than scared.

Luke gets up, already in professional mode. -I don't know, maybe Roxy.- he misses the weight of the gun in his side. -I'm going to see, stay here.- she nods. He sees the door of his friend's room and a half-open colleague, and he is sure he has closed it, after having let the dog out. -Hey, is there anyone?- he asks, feeling like an idiot. -I'm a federal agent, so you have chosen the wrong house to rob...- he warns, thinking of going to get a weapon, when the door opens and behind it... -Penelope!- he shouts. -Shouldn't you be at the appointment with Kevin?- she's still wearing the same nice dress and shoes, but the makeup is gone.

-Yes.- she only says, not just a single joke, but not even a short sentence of explanation.

She then stays partially sheltered behind the door and held on to it like a castaway, like Jack in Titanic. -What happened?- he notices a few more details. No, she probably didn't cry. But she is profoundly sad.

-It happened that he came accompanied and that he wanted to tell me that he is getting married with Gina.- she explains to him flatly, without trying to protest that they are not his business. That twinge again, this time on his hips.

He stretches his hand to caress her (the cheek, the chin, the shoulder), but then he doesn’t find enough courage to conclude the action taken. -Oh, Pen, I... I'm sorry ...- she shakes her head instead.

-No, don't say anything.- she tells him, though not putting much emphasis on it. -Come back to your friend and let at least one of us manage to finish the evening well.- an orange hair ball appears between her legs. Roxy is also on her side.

But Luke is already ready to send his appointment to the hell. -Are you sure, I could...- Penelope understands it, but it's not what she wants.

She nods. -Yes, don't worry about me.- the door closes a little more.

-This is not possible, but that's okay.- the man whispers, remaining still a few seconds there to meditate.

The other woman waits for him to sit before asking the obvious question. -It's all OK?- but her eyes are not turned on by real interest.

-Yes, it was my roommate, her appointment was cancelled.- why the hell did he have to tell the complete truth about a fact that didn't concern any of them?

She paints a sad expression on her face. -Oh sorry.- she touches his arm , causing him some brief shocks. -Let's eat?- even if he didn't understand it, someone is already thinking about after dinner.

-Of course, I've already prepared everything.- he leans over to remove a steaming pan from the oven. -I hope you like lasagna.- he can hear noises coming from the kitchen , but both ignore them. -It's vegetarian, though. You know, Penelope...- Micaela interrupts him.

-I bet it's your roommate.- she says, with a grimace that wanted to seem nice.

-Yup.- he confirms, with a very different attitude. -She doesn't eat meat, so, in order not to always have to cook two different things...- he starts to explain, but she silences him by stroking his hand and almost making him tickle.

-I got it.- she looks at him intently, without ever taking her eyes off his. -It 'll be okay, for once I will be a goat.- a pain in the back, while he's trying to appear amused.

-Ha ha, what a nice joke.- but Micaela doesn’t notice the forcing tone.

-And it’s just the beginning.- she winks and the touches his arm again, this time even by scratching it. And just as Luke tries to elaborate what is happening, Penelope appears with an innocent look.

-Oh, sorry!- she hangs on the threshold. -I don't want to disturb you, I just have to take something I forgot.- she starts looking for it, giving them their backs, but neither Luke nor Micaela open their mouths, continuing what they have undertaken. But the curly is reassured by the appearance of his roommate, she couldn’t imagine better; she had in fact begun to have strange sensations for the way in which Luke had spoken about him/her, too full of affection... but it is simply a feeling of friendship, almost brotherhood. After finding what she was looking for (a cup in the shape of a shark's mouth, directly from the set of Spielberg's film, The Beast, Penelope approaches the couple. -Anyway, at this point...- she stretches her hand to another woman. -I am Penelope. Nice to meet you!- she exclaims, and the thing that hurts Luke most is her sincerity.

-Micaela.- the other replies, imitating her smile, but not getting the same effect. -I've heard a lot about you.- she reveals, however, unaware of causing damage especially to herself.

In fact, the blonde is surprised, and for the first time she glances at Luke. -Really?- but he doesn't react. -Well, I hope they aren't too embarrassing, however...- a very short pause, in which the man vibrates from the terror of what she can say. -Good evening.- Penelope is about to go back to the kitchen, but stops and turns back . -Oh, please, never cook anything that contains cucumbers.- she suggests to the other woman, with the tone of someone who wants to imply that there is already a past about. -It makes a strange effect on him, I wouldn't say really unpleasant, but...- Luke blushes deeply. -Let's just say that later, cucumbers would not be the only long thing in the room. A word to the wise...- and this time she really disappears.

Micaela looks at him and doesn't find word for a good minute. -Wow, really interesting, your friend.- in the end she opts to take it with laughter and he doesn't correct her. -Where were we?- indifferent to what happened (indeed, even a little more intrigued) she starts touching him again , caressing his arm. Luke smiles at her, just happy that she doesn't want to go into the subject further. With this quite spicy atmosphere they manage to finish eating in peace, but the quiet doesn’t last long. Penelope returns and this time she has changed: she is wearing a suit (which he knows it's a pajama) that he thinks is still good on her.

-Luke, I 'm sorry to have to break your spaces again, but I can't find my headphones and I absolutely need them.- she says, all in one breath, completely ignoring the guest. -Did you take them, by chance?- the last two words underlined by a sharp look.

He scratches his head, guilty. -Yes, they are in my room.- he confesses.

She shakes her instead. -Ok to use them, but at least you could remember to put them back in their place.- she scolds him, and for a moment they both seem to ignore that they are not alone. There is something in their attitude, in their reciprocal way of doing, that could make Micaela worry, if it weren't that she just can't imagine them together. However…

-Sorry.- he only answers her, and he doesn't pretend to be saddened, he really is.

The blonde seems to be satisfied with his reaction. -Okay, good continuation, lovebirds.- she winks above all at the other woman, who this time can't hold back.

-Wow.- she exclaims, pursing her lips and beginning to give in to doubts.

-What?- Luke asks, trembling (thankfully more inside than out).

-Are you sure that you two are just co-worker and roommates?- she insinuates for the first time, something that he would have expected long before, something he feared throughout the evening.

-Why?- he replies with another question, trying to mask his hope that Micaela's impression is correct and that therefore between the two of them there is something more than a friendship-cohabitation. However wrong it is to have such a thought while he is at dinner with another woman. The heart goes where it goes, they say.

-I don't know, maybe it's just an impression.- she scrutinizes him trying to pick up some signals. -Why her headphones were in your bedroom?- finally she decides to leave him the benefit of the doubt.

Luke sees the answer before his eyes through a scene that seems to have been torn from a sitcom. -Here, mine are broken and I don’t remember ever to buy another, so I borrow hers and then at times we see the movies together and put the headphones to not disturbing Roxy and Sergio.- he babbles, getting stuck several times and feeding even more the suspicions of the redhead.

-Sergio?- she frowns.

-Yes, our...- he doesn’t stop quite quickly. -Penelope's cat.- in the kitchen, even if they are not able to see her, the nominated smiles. All notices that sort of lapsus, and then she doesn't consider Roxy as something of her own? Didn't all of them, in these weeks or perhaps months, become a sort of strange family?

-Uh.- the other woman comments instead, continuing to spin the wheels of her brain, but finally deciding to ignore her rational voice. -Wow, are you an animal lover too? You gave me a different impression.- Luke sees the only good opportunity he has left to get out of this mess. Will he ever have the courage to really expose himself with Penelope? He already knows the answer, unfortunately. So, is it really necessary to preserve himself for a woman who will never be his?

-Well I don't know if I can really define myself...- he tries to justify himself, but the other continues, ignoring him.

-I like them too, for heaven's sake.- bad debut, thinks Penelope beyond the wall, eavedropping without wanting, while they start to hear the noises of pots and pans that are moved. -But you have to have criteria, you can't consider them as people.- the blonde clenches her hands in fist, planting her fingernails in the flesh and risking to make them bleed. And to think that she could also like her. -Do you agree?- asks Micaela, but Luke is aware that she is close enough to hear his answer. And in any case, he doesn't want to lie. On what basis would their relationship be based?

-Not really...- he starts, and immediately sees the disappointment on the redhead's face. -For me, Roxy is worth far more than a lot of people I've met.- he confesses, even with too much effort.

-Mmm.- she bites her lips. -Have you ever hunted animals?- He can almost feel the tension in the air. Penelope almost even stops breathing, precariously poised on a chair.

-No.- finally answers and he hears someone cheer in the other room. Micaela looks at him and then beyond his shoulders.

-You don't know what you're missing.- she says, and a strange light shines in her eyes. -The adrenaline, the pursuit, that communion of...- she speaks freely.

Man's attempts to stop her are of no use. -Micaela...- she ignores him merrilly.

-The communion of the hunter and the prey participating in the same dance...- she continues as if he hadn’t said anything. -If you think about it, it's a bit of a dance, a mating ritual, too.- it's like she's talking to herself. -And the life and death that challenge each other and...- he even touches her on the arm, to make her recover from the trance.

-Mic...- but this time she doesn't even let him finish her name.

-And have you ever seen a live bullfight?- Luke shakes his head, but even if he was perfectly still, nothing would change. -It's a spectacular hunt, but it's great to see matadors and bulls united in death and resurrection.- he can't help but imagine what Penelope is thinking and what she would say if she were in his place.

And here it is as if she (that she, of course) had entered into him. -Actually the bull really dies and if you refer to spiritual death... Only the matador has this privilege.- he corrects her and also feels a certain pleasure. -The bull remains sadly dead.- and how to forget the tears of the blonde when they had watched a documentary together that explained the little spectacular truth hidden behind the veil of the muleta? -However, it's nice to see you so passionate about a topic, but...- he tries to divert the subject, he doesn't want to despise her just because they have divergent opinions, even if on ethical things and therefore fundamental arguments. On the other side of the wall, Penelope thinks Luke listens to her and really knows her; and at that precise moment, with one leg in the air, she is enveloped by two feelings that seem perfect for being together: sadness and jealousy. And she understands an equally fundamental truth: she is in love with her roommate.

However, Micaela seems to have somehow understood that a change of course is better. - Come on, tell me about when you were on the fugitive team.- she gets up and moves the chair to be practically stuck to him. -It's so sexy.- she blinks her eyelids once while her hand caresses his knee. And the other (which feels even more such, like the intruder, in this context) is imagining even worse, fantasizing only from the noises.

She doesn’t draw his attentions. -Well, I felt and I feel again, what you were saying, more or less.- he shrugs. -Tracking, the stakeout, waiting, patience, setting the trap, studying every detail... yes, this is definitely exciting.- he agrees. But the prey he has in mind has precise connotations.

-You see?- the redhead is getting even closer. -We are made for each other.- she comments and Luke knows what is going to happen and he doesn't pull back anyway. When between their lips there is less than a centimeter, a tremendous roar is heard caused by a cascade of pots, various scrap metal that falls on the floor and shortly afterwards something wooden, a chair, to be precise, and finally a body. Both jump, but Luke immediately understands the meaning of that commotion.

-Penelope!- shouts, seeing her on the ground massaging her leg. There is a hole in her pants. -Did you... Did you hurt yourself?- he leans over to see better. -You’re bleading... oh my God, you need patches, hydrogen peroxide and it must be disinfected immediately...- he completely loses his mind, goes into hyperventilation. -Maybe I should call 911...- he meditate to himself and thankfully he doesn't have a cell phone at hand.

-All right there, honey?- Micaela's voice asks, which seems light years away.

-Yes!- replies Penelope, but her voice is obscured by the male one.

-No.- at the same time the two also fight a staring contest.

-Luke?- she calls him again, confused by the contrasting answers.

-I’m here, just a moment.- replies the man, without masking the annoyance. -Wait, stand still.- he orders. -I'll go get the stuff. You don't move.- he repeats, standing up.

-You are crazy.- she comments, but obeys him anyway. -I can do it alone.- eye contact is still active. -It's not broken.- she points out uselessly. -You must return immediately to Micaela.- she is the voice of reason, for once. What she says would be right, it would be the right thing to do. But accepting this appointment in his confused state was already wrong at the preconditions.

-Luke?- again the guest asks for the attention she deserves.

He doesn't answer her and shakes his head, stubborn. -No, now you need me.- Penelope looks at him, almost in shock. -She will wait.- he adds.

-You will never have a woman, Alvez, if you continue like this.- she still protesting weakly. Luke goes out and comes back laden like a mule: bandages, plasters, pharmaceutical products in various formats. -You're out of your mind, I say it again.- he ignores her, bending down again and rolling up her trousers until he reaches the injured area. -Ouch, hell, it burns.- she complains. At the end of the medication, she hopes to get rid of him. -Now go.- she commands.

But he hasn't finished. -No, I have to check that you can stand and walk.- he says.

Penelope gives him the last warning with her eyes. -Luke, I'm serious.- and he keeps up with her, never taking his own.

-I'm not joking.- and the trouble is that he is sincere. Then she grabs him by the shirt collar, trying to pull him away, instead she gets the opposite effect, makes Luke fall near her own body. Too close. They stare at each other for a while, in a way that seems at the same time the same, but that is also new, both guessing what will happen just a thousandth of a second before it happens. He lowers and she stands up, until their lips meet, skipping the sweetness to go straight to the point and exchanging hard, hungry, aggressive kisses, too long postponed.

-Hey, Luke, did you solve? Penelope? Are you alive?- not getting any kind of sensible answer, poor Micaela enters the kitchen, unaware that she never had one chance to become her, having always been the other. So she remains a few seconds astonished to see them kissing on the floor, perfectly at ease. She was just wrong about one thing: they are really cute together. And against her will, also hypnotic. -I should have imagined it. Do you still have that colleague's number?- she asks, more to see how deep they are immersed in their world. -I'm sure he lives alone.- she comments. -If you don't count a goldfish.- she adds. And this last joke seems to shake Penelope, who separates first.

-Don't leave, it was just a...- she pulls herself to his feet, trying to give her words more credibility. -A comforting kiss, Luke was taken by the role of caring rescuer, right?- she looks at the man who, however, shakes his head.

-No.- he even says, sending her into a panic.

-At least someone here is honest with his feelings.- Micaela comments, throwing a dart at the blonde. If she were in her place, she wouldn't even have half a hesitation. -Listen, without rancor.- she spreads her arms. -I'll call a taxi. And anyway... Phil had warned me that you were a involved single, but I didn't understand in what sense.- she shakes her head. It does not matter anymore. -Talk to your friend, okay?- she doesn’t wait for an answer, goes to the exit, but turns back, with a mischievous look. -Good evening and, please... remember the Cucumbers!- Penelope blushes, cursing her own tongue. Live by cucumber, die by cucumber.

Meanwhile, Luke has also recovered. -What just happened?- she asks in an accusatory and angry tone, pushing him away with all her strength.

The man is in a very different mood. -It happened that you sent my date to hell.- he smiles, slyly, with a look like a boiled fish. And he takes a step towards her.

-It was you who threw yourself on me!- she cries, continuing her escape, slowly.

-Throw me on you?- he thinks about it seriously. -It seems to me that you did your part.- he finally says, but then decides to have other priorities. -Anyway...- he shrugs, he pulls back close to kiss her again.

Penelope's pupils dilate in a mix of fear and excitement. -What are you doing?- she asks with a trembling little voice, unable however to take her eyes off the man's lips.

-What I wanted for a long time.- he says, bending down. She doesn't reject him, but eventually Luke changes his mind. -Penelope...- he chooses to be content with holding her in his arms in an intimate way, not really different in form from their previous hugs, but still different in substance.

-Yup?- she replies, not knowing what to expect.

-What did you need headphones for?- he investigates, toying with her hair with his free hand. She understands that he thinks she may have done it on purpose.

-I wanted to see a movie so as not to hear you two.- she reveals therefore, with a sad tone. -I have the defect of having too much developed hearing.- she tightens the lips until they turn white.

-And the pans?- he continues, as he admires every detail of her face.

She shrugs. -I was looking for a kettle to make me a cup of tea. You know that...- He literally takes the words out of her mouth.

-There is nothing better than a good movie and a cup of tea.- he imitates his voice, making her laugh. -Except maybe a good book, a cup of tea and a steaming tub.- but she stops quickly and looks at him in a terribly serious way. -What is it?- he fears to have exaggerated.

-You scare me.- she admits. -You... You really listen to me when I talk.- he nods.

-Of course, I listen to you.- even if he's not particularly concentrated right now. -I listen to you even when you don't speak.- he warns, throwing allusions that maybe will be clarified later. He approaches her so that their faces are parallel.

-Why?- but their eyes are too.

-Because I can't help but find anything that comes out of your mouth wonderful.- he says spontaneously.

It's like a slap, a bucket of water frozen down her back. -Oh. You know... I think...- she understands that he deserved to know the whole truth. Even the one she hadn't even confessed to herself yet. -I was a little jealous, and... Sad, and I didn't see where I put my foot so I fell from my chair but got caught in a pan and the rest you know.- she spreads her arms as tightly as she can in his sweet grip.

-Yes.- he nods, before pulling her against him and kisses her. Like for the first, she kisses him back. -What movie were you watching?- yet another question. Penelope's hands are still sunk in his hair.

-He’s just not that into you.- they only talk to each other with their eyes, before changing positions. -But tomorrow you’ll buy a pair of headphones.- she tells him, trying to make him understand how the transformation in their relationship will not change other situations. Not immediately, at least.

He chuckles, amused by her intransigence. But he decides to play just as heavy. -If you sleep with me tonight.- suddenly the atmosphere becomes serious.

-Luke...- she warns. As much as she wishes (it would be ridiculous to say otherwise at this point) she doesn’t feel ready for it to happen tonight. She has already had enough emotions to brush the heart attack.

-I said sleep and I intend to sleep.- she states the man, with all possible sincerity.

And she believes him. -Deal.- they shake hands, but he only grabs it to take advantage of her and steal another kiss. Between roommates and cohabitants there is just one step. And they just did it.

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

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[inevitably-johnlocked]

Heya Steph! You have any good whump!John fics? Or just any fics where Sherlock's the one caring for/worrying about John?

FUCK YES I DO NONNY XD It’s on my Sick Fics offline list, so it makes me happy when someone wants fics I’ve already got sorted, LOL.

Check it out:

SHERLOCK TAKES CARE OF JOHN

You Lead, I Lead, You Follow, I Follow by BrighteyedJill (M, 862 w. || Fever, H/C, John Whump) – John wakes up after a chase gone wrong to find Sherlock watching over him, but he’s a little hazy on the details.

Home and Dry by BeautifulFiction (G, 1,052 w. || Fluff, Friendship, Pre-Slash) – Sometimes actions speak louder than words, and comfort can come from the most unlikely source. John and Sherlock pre-slash blanket-fic fluff.

What to do with an Ailing Flatmate by LyricalSinger (K, 1,076 w. || Friendship / Fluff) – John is ill, and Sherlock is trying!

Internal by OldBesinaStuff (T, 1,131 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, John Whump) – Just a one-shot wherein John is injured and Sherlock deals with it - in multiple ways.

Overtime by glow_in_the_dark (G, 1,149w. || Fluff, Tea, Caring Sherlock) – John has worked over 80 hours this week, and will no doubt have to go into work tomorrow too. Arriving home beyond dead tired, his flatmate seems to take make it his personal mission to make John comfortable. Part 2 of Little Fluffy Oneshots

I’m Sorry by bewdifuldragon (K, 1,172 w. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Sick John) – During a case - that just for the record, he never wanted to take on anyway - John falls ill; and a guilt-ridden Sherlock does everything he can to make amends.

Two To Tango (The Cold Hands, Warm Heart Remix) by igrockspock (T, 1,207 w. || Domestic) – When John is wounded while pursuing a suspect, Sherlock refuses to leave his side. {{FAVE!}}

Fractured by Starlight05 (K+, 1,865 w. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Unconscious Violence, Nightmares) - John has a nightmare, and Sherlock, worried, goes to help him, with consequences.

Listening By Ear by StillWaters1 (T, 3,384 w. || Lestrade POV, Friendship, H/C, John Whump) –  Lestrade figured that anyone who thought John Watson wasn’t important, and that Sherlock hadn’t changed since meeting him, had to be completely, bloody deaf. Because it was all right there, in every sound Sherlock made. For anyone attentive enough to listen.

Worth It by JezebelGoldstone (G, 3,467 w. || Fluff, Humour, Injury, H/C, Cuddling) – John receives a minor injury during a case, and Sherlock’s reaction makes John wonder if Sherlock is the best friend he’s ever had, or the worst.

All That I Have by the_arc5 (M, 3,721 w. || Post-TGG Canon Divergence, Pining Sherlock, John Whump, Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Light Angst) – In the aftermath of the Great Game, Sherlock finds himself with a new weakness. John is both the cause and the cure.

Every Step of the Way by Shi-Toyu (T, 3,858 w. || Romance, Hurt/Comfort, John Whump) – When John is injured on a case, Sherlock can’t forgive himself. Everyone expects him to give up on his flatmate and get bored, but he’ll prove them all wrong by sticking with him…every step of the way. Eventual Johnlock.

Water Is Another Matter by cathedral_carver (T, 3,903 w. || Pining, First Kiss) – He thinks it’s in trouble, his poor heart.

I’ll Take Care of You by Lastew (T, 4,123 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick John) – Sherlock doesn’t always communicate well and sometimes that leads to problems. What happens if John suffers because of it?

A Moment Changes Everything by CymraegCariad (K+, 4,294 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Angst, John Whump, Friendship) – John gets hurt and Sherlock tries to help.

Between Asleep and Awake by katydidit (K, 4,309 w. || Friendship, Sick Fic, Post-TRF / Reunion) – John is sick. Incredibly, extremely, dangerously sick. Plagued by a high fever, he begins to hallucinate, start seeing things that aren’t really there. Because they can’t be there. Can they?

Memories Lost on Christmas Day by agnesanutter, PlainJane (G, 4,479 w. || Fluff, Hospitals, Worried Sherlock, Post-TRF, Christmas) – It’s the day before Christmas and Sherlock and John are exactly where they need to be….

Cephalalgia by the_beekeeper_of_sussex (E, 4,979 w. || First Kiss, Frottage, Friends to Lovers) – John is in pain and it’s up to Sherlock to set him to rights by any means possible.

Drive by lifeonmars (M, 9,537 w. || Virginity, Awkward First Times, Minor Injuries) – John and Sherlock are stranded by the roadside, and John is injured. They need to spend the night in the back of a humvee. Sherlock is confused. John is understanding.

Where the Sun Never Shines by teahigh (T, 11,634 w. || PTSD, Nightmares, H/C, Post-TRF, Implied Sex) – John is a mess. Sherlock can’t fix him, but he tries. That’s good enough, John thinks.

Understanding by rizandace (T, 13,268 w. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort) – Sherlock’s hiding something about his newest case, and John wants answers. Set post-TGG. Friendship fic, mostly, with brief entrances from Harry and Lestrade just for fun.

The Consequences of Caring by Richefic (K+, 16,156 w. || Friendship & Angst, Domestics, Platonics) – Sherlock might scoff at this ‘caring’ lark. But John Watson’s situation cries out to be 'solved’ and there is nothing that Holmes likes more than solving things. A series in four parts.

Partners in Crime by Richefic (T, 16,560 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Sick John, Meddling Mycroft, Caring Sherlock, Domestics) – John Watson receives some devastating news which puts a spanner in his medical ambitions. Will Sherlock prove capable of the kind of comfort and reassurance he needs or will their partnership be ended before its even begun? Set between 1.1 and 1.2.

John Watson doesn’t have a Boyfriend by naughtyspirit (E, 18,932 w. || UST / URT, Fluff & Smut, Voyeurism, Masturbation) – John’s date has gone very well. Sherlock requires tea. John wishes he hadn’t resolved that their relationship was strictly hands off and isn’t about to address it. Unless he has to. Smut, fluff and shower time for a naked John Watson.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w. || Magical Realism, John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It’s a lot less cracky than you’re probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

Right Hand Man by SilentAuror (E, 42,031 w. ||  H/C, Injury, Slow Burn) – When John’s left arm becomes paralysed after a car accident, Mary asks Sherlock to take him back to Baker Street to recuperate, as she’s about to give birth. Despite the fact that the search for Moriarty is ongoing, Sherlock takes John in and takes responsibility for overseeing his rehabilitation as he adjusts to the loss of his arm.

Scars by SilentAuror (E, 60,493 w. || Rape / Non-Con / Abuse, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Dub Con Elements, Homophobia, Angst With Happy Ending, Mary is Not Nice) – S3 rewrite, showing Mary’s manipulation of John as he realizes his love for Sherlock. Mary is not having it.

Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance (E, 106,650 w. || FutureAU, Augmentation || Augmented John, Depression, Body Modification, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Sci-Fi, Self-Care, Body Dysmorphia) – John wants to explain the rush of sensation and data, which is just another form of sensation (or is it the other way around?). John wants to say:Augmentation circuits report temperature, pressure, various forms of quantitative input. Sudden changes are reported as pain, since sudden changes are dangerous, and pain is the quickest way to encourage reflexive extraction. But all John can manage is, “Nng.” Because this sudden touch is not reporting as pain. Part 2 of STATIC

Sketchy by serpentynka (E, 184,053 w. || Post-TRF, Post-Mary, John Whump, Slow Burn Love Story, Case Fic, Art, Porn With Feelings, Switchlock, Travelling, Career Change, Family Secrets, Illness / Health) – What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl – but cannot be ignored. Oh, and…porn. Part 1: Sherlock takes on an obvious case (barely a 4) and meets someone who will force him to re-examine what it means to see. Part 1 of Sketchy

JOHN IS SICK / HURT (WHUMP FICS)

Prayers by Jberry (M, 665 w. || H/C, Injury, John Whump, Fear of Death, First Person Sherlock) – Sherlock has never been a man who prayed.

Words Were Never Useful by Jenn1984 (K+, 819 w. || Hurt Comfort, John Whump, Friendship, Ambiguous Ending) - ALLEY BEHIND THE BOOKSTORE, JOHN STABBED. HELP NOW. SH

I Never Told You by MrsNoggin (T, 1,650 w. || Fluff & Angst) – Who looks after John when Sherlock is gone? Just a bit of angsty fluff, maybe with a bit of a happy ending. A little wishful one-shot, rated for John’s good old British pottymouth.

206 Reasons by whitchry9 (K+, 1,693 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Pre-Slash, Light Angst, Worried Sherlock) – John won’t wake up, so Sherlock lists all the reasons why he should. Because he appears to be a bit besotted. How inconvenient.

Take My Hand, Knot Your Fingers Through Mine by patster223 (K+, 2,003 w. || H/C & Friendship) - “I know this is an inconvenience for you, but I would really rather you were awake right now, John.” John is unconscious, and Sherlock decides to talk to him anyway. Sherlock/John pre-slash.

Water Is Another Matter by cathedral_carver (T, 3,903 w. || Sick Fic, Pining, First Kiss, Heat Wave) – He thinks it’s in trouble, his poor heart.

Between Asleep and Awake by katydidit (K, 4,309 w. || Friendship, Sick Fic, Post-TRF / Reunion) – John is sick. Incredibly, extremely, dangerously sick. Plagued by a high fever, he begins to hallucinate, start seeing things that aren’t really there. Because they can’t be there. Can they?

Bound Into the Fire by Tara Laurel (T, 6,672 w. || TEH, Suspense, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Bonfire Scene, John Whump, Mary is Nice) – “John sometimes compared Sherlock Holmes to the flaming beast in his mind…Not such a bad way to go, John mused. Being consumed by Sherlock. Dying in his fire. No. This was different. He was burning alive. Not figuratively. Not some flowery metaphor. Burning.” There was no two minute stay of execution. “Amazing how fire exposes our priorities.”

Galapogos by anchors (E, 8,460 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Angst, 5 and 1, John Whump) – Somewhere in the depths of the universe, and somewhere in the middle of Sherlock’s chest, a star goes into supernova.

We Might Not Make It Home by Ballykissangel (K+, 10,702 || Angst, Hurt/Comfort, No Slash) – A few months later they are on a case that has gone horribly wrong They find themselves gravely wounded and locked in a cellar Holding onto to each other and trying their best to stay alive Sherlock can’t bring himself to say another goodbye to his dying friend and John can’t find the will to live anymore and just wants to stop hurting. Sequel to When Evening Falls So Hard.

Equilibrium by augustbird (M, 12,351 w. || Jealous then Worried Sherlock, Sick John) – At Baskerville, John is infected by a virus that turns him into a genius. But when the infection progresses into neurodegeneration, it’s a race against time to save himself. Flowers for Algernon fusion.

Obsession by storylover18 (K+, 15,213 w. || HC, Case Fic, Friendship) - Dr. John Watson wakes up ill one morning but it is not the 24 hour flu he thinks it was. Soon he lands in hospital, quickly deteriorating and Sherlock must work to find out what has happened to his blogger before it is too late. Case!fic mixed with sick!fic / No slash.

Vessel by Rhuia (E, 15,695 w. || Cancer, Medfic) – That was the surprising bit – the way his doctor said it, eyes shining with sympathy but breathing it out, shifting it off her shoulders and thrusting it onto his, making him take it like an unwanted gift.

Partners in Crime by Richefic (T, 16,560 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Sick John, Meddling Mycroft, Caring Sherlock, Domestics) – John Watson receives some devastating news which puts a spanner in his medical ambitions. Will Sherlock prove capable of the kind of comfort and reassurance he needs or will their partnership be ended before its even begun? Set between 1.1 and 1.2.

The dying Doctor by marylouleach (T, 21,168 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, John Whump) – Doctor Watson is gunned down in a dark alley after work, Sherlock wont rest until he finds the man responsible. Guilt riddles him when he realizes he could have prevented this.

M Is For Moriarty by ElvendorkInfinity (T, 29,882 w. || Suspense, Mystery, Case Fic, Worried Sherlock, No Slash, Whump) – A figure at the end of the hospital bed; a needle in the dark…Moriarty has John, and Sherlock must follow the paper trail through London to find him before time runs out. Sequel to BANG.

You Have Drawn Red From My Hands by J_Baillier (T, 67,085 w. || Heavy John Whump, Hurt / Comfort, Pining, Heavy Angst, Case Fic/Adventure, Slow Burn, Sick Fic, Injury, Guilt & Depression, Just Talk Already Please, Medical Realism, PTSD) –  John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.  {{HAVEN’T READ THIS FIC YET, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION}}

[ifollowfugo]

Uh so i'm having a rough time... can i get some fluffy angst of brunos gang finding out their gn s/o has been self harming? ive been trying to not but i just gave up,,,,, ;;

Okay, I have some things to say before you can go on to the scenarios. Please, don’t give up. Not about this, not about anything. Nothing is impossible, everything has a solution, and I’m so sorry you can’t see it right now but it is out there. I wrote this thinking about you because I saw this when you sent it but I wanted to take my time with it. Whenever you need to be reminded that someone cares about you, I’m here. Hit my ask box, my private messages, I’m here. If you can, please try to get professional help. I know, that is always my advice, but it is one of the really useful things there are to be done. I would really appreciate if you could tell me how you are doing. If you want to, you can do it anonymously through my ask box and ask me not to publish it, I won’t. And there was another anon struggling too, are you still there? If you are, I would like to know how you’re holding up too. 

Now, this is a sensitive subject we’re dealing with here. If you don’t want to read it, please continue your scrolling.

Bruno was going to his s/o’s house to give them a surprise, he bought tickets to a movie he knew they wanted to see. When he arrived, he took out the key they gave him and closed the door behind him after entering the building. He is so excited he couldn’t even contain the huge smile it provoked him. Until he heard the whimpers, that is.

He made his way through the place following the sounds, unmistakably theirs. He worried for a moment, why where they in so much pain? He approached the bathroom door very subtly, not wanting to make any noise in case there was an enemy, he wouldn’t want to lose the advantage. And then, he looked in the small room, and something inside him broke. The scene developing in front of his eyes was unbearable. The blood, their face, the wounds all over their body, he can’t believe it. He rushed to their side, sticky fingers treating the cuts so they wouldn’t lose any more blood, yelling at them to please, stay with him.

Hours later, after everything was cleaned and their energy was restored, Bruno’s worried expression made them feel a weight on their chest, they would never want to see that face any less than smiling again. But they knew it was their fault, so they attempted to explain. Bruno listened, but his mind was worried about what he had to tell them. Exactly what words he had to use to make the comprehend there’s no need for such measures.

“Tesoro, I love you so much, it pains me greatly to know you are feeling like this. Please, would you consider letting me get you a good doctor? I don’t mean to intrude in your life, but I don’t want to lose you, and sometimes we need a little push. Please, I’m begging you, don’t you ever think you need to hide this from me. Let me share that burden, take some weight off your shoulders. Life was never meant to be lived alone, and no problem can be solved in solitude. Let me be the reason you wake up and feel like life is worth living. Please, let me show you everything your life could be, together we can find happiness. What do you say?”

***

Abbacchio was fairly familiar with depression. Finding a reason to go on was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. He knows is hard for other people to deal with it, they tend to feel uncomfortable when dealing with people coping with it, and it makes it even harder. He knows. But he never expected to find that he couldn’t notice it in others.

Everyone copes with their different issues in different ways. He attempted to separate himself from the world, only to find that this was no solution to his problem. Only when he found a safe space amongst other people was he able to find some kind of peace of mind. And yet, as close as he felt with them, he failed to notice the small but present scars on their body. Some looked old, some looked too fresh. Some hadn’t even scarred yet.

They were both in bed, the tv with some old movie they had seen a thousand times before on., everything was so normal, so everyday-like. And yet, running his hand through their body, discovering the evidence of their illness, nothing felt normal. He felt so impotent. He needed to cry, yell, break stuff. He felt angry, but only at his inability to see it and offer his help, his shoulder, his ear. He had gotten better when he found them, but now that they were feeling bad he hadn’t even had the chance to try and help.

Softly, he decided to talk to them. He wasn’t going to talk about their personal stuff, they would talk to him when they were ready. He knew forcing them was only going to make it worse. But he also knew they needed it, so he made himself available.

“You know, I absolutely get what that feels like.” He gestured the most recent cuts. “I’m not saying it’s okay, I’m just saying I get it. But you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here, and I’m always going to be here.”

Words didn’t come easy for him, but he made his point clear and kissed them to make them feel loved, only to make his point clearer.

***

Mista had the habit of not asking if he could come by, he just did. He knew their time table for every day, so he knew when they’d be home. He popped up on the weirdest of hours, secretly hoping to catch them doing something embarrassing or hot. But he would have never expected what he encountered.

It’s not that he found them doing anything. They were asleep, but it was a hot day and it turns out they like to sleep on their underwear on hot days. At first, it seemed like it would be fun to scare them, but as he got closer, he noticed the red lines and spots on places generally clothed. He examined them as well as he could, looking for some clue to tell him it wasn’t what he thought. But it was, and nothing could now convince him of the contrary.

He got on the bed, carefully spooning them, and decided he’d take a nap right there, and wait for them to wake up so he could question them, he wouldn’t want them to be scared when he discussed what he saw. f course, that plan didn’t go as he thought. They had gone to sleep alone and now they weren’t alone, it scared the shit out of them. Their screams alerted Mista too, but everything calmed after he explained what had happened.

He addressed the issue properly, unlike most of the stuff he does. He is a goofy guy, ut is completely able to get serious when needed.

“Babe, why resort to that sort of thing? If you were feeling so bad, why didn’t you say anything? You don’t need to bear everything on your own. You know I adore you and I would never judge you for this, it wasn’t your choice, and is not something pretty either. I want to be here for you all the time. Do you think, maybe, you could talk to me about it? Whatever it is, we can sort it.”

He held them in his arms and placed soft kisses everywhere he could reach, the pistols doing the same wherever he couldn’t. He wanted them to know he was there, and he wasn’t leaving.

***

Narancia was not a particularly observant fellow. He rushed through everything so he never noticed small things, like the almost imperceptible details, changes in them that could have alerted him of their mental state.

He was making his way home when he saw something he thought his s/o would really like, and, being the impatience person he is, he wanted to get it to them right away. So he ran through the streets of Napoli, only one goal in his mind, only one place to be. He arrived panting and breathless, but nevertheless happy to be able to give them this gift. He rang the bell, so he could continue with the surprise, not wanting to just get inside. But when they opened the door, he saw them crying. These weren’t small tears, this wasn’t the kind of cry you let out when you need to unwind. This was desperate crying, their whole face red and puffy, their voice was gone. He got inside and followed them to the couch. And then, he saw the marks on their skin.

He fell to his knees, gift falling from his hands unimportant. His throat suddenly clogged by a knot, his thoughts unable to untangle. Them, the love of his short life, feeling like that. He knew it just meant they needed him more than ever. He didn’t want to admit he may have been going through life too fast, not realizing their struggles until it was too late. But it wasn’t too late. He could still do something.

“Baby, my love, please tell me what can I do for you.” He didn’t know what to do, nothing trained him for that situation. He hadn’t experienced that kind of pain and darkness before, but he wanted to make himself useful, not wanting to accept that was their life. “I’m taking it upon myself to change your days for the better. I promise you, you will never feel this sadness again as long as I’m here by your side.”

***

Fugo understands feeling overwhelmed sometimes. This can lead to anxiety, panic attacks, and depression. But he didn’t know this was how they felt. He was really observant and meticulous, but their way of coping wasn’t the usual sadness and brooding. They were different. If you saw them from a distance, you would have never been able to tell they were struggling. Their smile continued to shine, their laugh continued to resonate in every room. whenever he’d see them staring at nothing, or a tear going down their eye, he always thought it was just some minor inconvenience. It turns out, it wasn’t.

He may have never known real peace and accomplishment if it wasn’t for them. They appeared in this hard part of his life, where he had to push forward, like going up a hill where someone up there is tossing stuff at you. It was hard, and he would have never done it if it wasn’t for their true love and support. No one can go through this alone, he learned at last.

As both of them were having a nice time together, him reading a book out loud and them listening to his absolutely perfect voice, he found himself feeling a little warm, and decided to take his jacket off when he realized they were still wearing long sleeves. He tried to argue it was getting hot and they could faint or something but to no avail. And that got him suspicious. After a lot of bickering, he finally got them to show him what they were hiding, and it wasn’t pretty.

Knowing Fugo’s observant nature, they had gotten some bandages in order to not get the shirt stained with blood, as the wounds were fairly new. But what was under them was horrifying. Fugo’s heart broke. He wanted to yell at them, but for once, he fought the urgency knowing it wouldn’t help in that situation. Not caring about smearing the blood on his clothes, he hugged them tightly. His voice wouldn’t come out for a while, so he hugged them and let them cry for some time. Whatever they needed.

When he was finally able to speak, he tried to make his point as loud as he could, but he failed. In what seemed like a whisper, he muttered:

“Amore, bella mia, I can’t believe I never noticed you were going through this. You don’t deserve this, and it brings me incredible sadness to know it is happening anyway. The world is an unfair place, and as such doesn’t care whether good people are suffering, but I do. I don’t want you to feel lonely and broken anymore. I understand that sometimes one feels overwhelmed with everything, and need to let something out. Please, know that I’m here to support you in any way you need. I will offer you the tools to find a will to continue fighting again. I swear, anytime you call me, no matter what I’m doing, I will pick up. If you need me here, I’ll come from wherever I am. You are the most important thing in my life, and I’m not going to let you suffer alone anymore.”

***

Giorno arranged a beautiful evening in a hotel room for him and his love. They were going to have the most exquisite dinner, and maybe they could go swimming later, the warm water of the pool relieving his muscles. It had been going great, with the small detail of them being a little quieter than normal. Giorno knew it wasn’t a good sign, but he decided to address it some other time when they were alone. He only grew more worried when they refused to go swimming. The hotel pool was beautiful, they were completely alone, and it’s not something they hadn’t done before, he knows they love swimming.

As he pressed the subject, he found resistance from their part, he wasn’t expecting it. Something was upsetting them and they wouldn’t talk to him, he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to force them either, but he wanted to help them. If they needed to, he would listen for hours, get anything they need, create as many puppies as they needed, wipe away any tears. He wanted to be a part of them to the same extent they were of him.

Finally, they caved in. Something inside them told them they had to tell him. They needed to let it out, they couldn’t keep it to themselves anymore. Giorno listened and observed, serious as ever. But not because he felt nothing, but because he was feeling like he could faint any minute. He had no idea this was happening right under his nose.

“My lovely (Name), why did you never come to me? You know I would have helped you. I would have listened. I would have never judged you. My heart lies with you, and if I lost you there would be no part of me to build myself from again. Please, let me get you I touch with a professional, you know you need it. And I know it can be scary and difficult to come to terms with what is going on with you, but you need to do something about it before it conquers over the beautiful person you are. This does not define you, you can change this with some effort. It won’t be easy, I won’t lie to you. But it can be done. And I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”

The swim was amazing, as everything was with Giorno.