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t0wnspersonb · 4 years

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Merry Christmas (Miya Atsumu x Reader)

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: SMUT, oral (female receiving), bad language, my shit writing, falling further in love with Miya Atsumu

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, and you and your boyfriend had planned on exchanging gifts only for hours to go by and there’s still no sign of him. Atsumu feels incredibly guilty for being late, but he makes up for that lateness in a different way.

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Christmas came early ya’ll! I hope you like this one! I also hope that I was able to capture Atsumu’s personality and dialect accurately lol. This was a lot of fun to write and I apologize for any mistakes lol. I just really wanted to get this one out before I start getting busy with work and getting everything ready for Christmas.

As always, let me know what you think!:)

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Shit. Atsumu knew that he fucked up. He was supposed to be at the spot hours ago. He was just too caught up in practice that time had slipped by.

One more set, was his mindset each time, long after the rest of the team had wanted to call it quits for the day.

If it wasn’t for Osamu yelling at him that Y/n had been waiting, he would still be in the gym.

Fuck, he felt like the worst boyfriend on the planet. Having practice on Christmas Eve was one thing but forgetting about meeting up with his cute girlfriend was another. And it was fucking freezing outside, the snow heavily falling from the gray sky.

He felt even worse knowing that the spot you guys always met up at was outside, a quiet little area nestled deep in the park you guys passed by on your way home.

You hadn’t stayed right? Surely you would have gone home by now.

There was no way that you would have stayed in this weather. Regardless, Atsumu ran faster than he’s ever ran in practice.

There was no way….

Guilt ate at his heart the minute his eyes found your figure.

You were hunched over on the bench, cupping your glove covered hands against your mouth, attempting to blow hot air into your freezing fingers.

Snow covered your bundled-up body, clung to your delicate lashes and hair that peaked out from under your beanie. Beside you sat a decorative bag, pristine and clearly a gift that was supposed to be given to him.

Atsumu didn’t think he deserved his Christmas present at this point.

“Y/n!” He called out, finally jogging the rest of the way until he was right in front of you, visible puffs of air escaping his lips as he tried to catch his breath. “M’sorry, I lost track of time. Ya must be freezin’... why didn’t you go to my house? Ya know that Samu is home right –”

“Atsumu!”

His eyes widened as you sprang up, eyes wide and bright. A sweet smile stretched across your lips as you gazed up at him.

There was no sight of annoyance or sadness in your face. Something that he had expected to happen.

But the way you were looking at him, and the way that your full cheeks and the tip of your nose was incredibly rosy and begging to be smothered in his kisses, well, he had never seen such a beautiful sight before.

“Merry Christmas.” You breathed out, wide eyes twinkling in happiness.

Atsumu’s face softened, his large hands reaching to cup your face. He felt a harder tug of guilt in his heart at the way you sighed and closed your eyes in content at the warmth his hands provided.

He didn’t deserve such a kind and sweet-hearted girl like yourself; especially when he did things like today.

He didn’t even have your gift, it was still at his house, waiting to be picked up hours ago after he had gotten home from practice.

“Yeah. Merry Christmas.” He murmured before pressing his hot lips to your cold ones.

You sighed softly, melting into his much larger body. The heat that he supplied felt incredible against your body.

Atsumu moved his lips tenderly against your own, hating how your usually soft and warm lips were slightly chapped and incredibly cold.

But the butterflies were still there, the familiar feeling of your body pressing into his was still there, and all he could think about was warming you up.

A kiss like this was a step in the right direction for that.

The longer he kissed you though, the colder you would still get. He realized that when he felt you shiver softly against him.

Reluctantly he pulled away, his large hands still holding your face in between warm palms.

“Yer an idiot.” He chuckled lightly as a soft pout formed on your lips.

“I was waiting for you.” You pouted.

“I know. Ya should’ve just gone home though. Look at ya.” He frowned, carefully unraveling the scarf around his neck, and wrapping it around yours.

He watched with gentle eyes as you shivered at the newly added warmth before you snuggled your chin deeper into the scarf, inhaling his familiar scent.

“What about you?” You asked, voice slightly muffled from the fabric.

“M’fine. The house is close by anyway. Let’s get ya into something warmer yeah?” He said reaching for your hand.

“You haven’t opened your gift yet!” You exclaimed, grabbing the bag.

“I’ll open it at home. Come on, I don’t want ya out here in the cold any longer, yer gonna get sick.” He frowned and started tugging you on the path back home.

The walk home was filled with laughter and conversation as you guys talked about his practice. There was still no sign of any irritation about him being late; and Atsumu still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he had just a sweet girlfriend, he truly didn’t deserve your forgiveness or love. But he was just as greedy with you as he was when it came to volleyball.

“Stupid.” Osamu sighed, watching from the doorway as you guys removed your shoes, Atsumu was tugging at the layers on your body now that they were soaking wet from the change in temperature. He definitely didn’t want you getting sick.

“Shut up!” Atsumu snapped, shooting his brother a glare; ignoring the whines of protest as he hastily yanked your outer layers off.

“Ya owe me some pudding for saving yer ass again. I’m sure he’d still be at practice if I hadn’t called him.” Osamu said pointedly.

You giggled at the irritated expression on Atsumu’s face. The banter between the twins was definitely a lot better now that they were older, but it was still there.

Atsumu clicked his tongue in annoyance, watching as his twin left his house; waving goodbye and promising that he would see them later tonight at their parents’ house.

“So damn annoying.” Atsumu muttered under his breath before his attention was turned back to you.

Despite the warm temperature in the house, you were shivering.

“Wanna take a bath?” Atsumu asked, but he was already tugging you towards the bathroom. He still needed to shower too, and if he got it to do it with you, that was even better.

Steam filled the room as the both of you undressed. Atsumu’s greedy eyes trailing down your body, appreciating the beauty in your nakedness.

“Don’t look.” You huffed, arms wrapping around your exposed body.

Atsumu chuckled, teasingly tugging at the strand of hair that started curling around your collarbone.

“I’ve seen ya naked plenty of times baby. Why are you so shy now?”

Atsumu chuckled again as he watched red bleed into your cheeks; the embarrassed, pouty look on your face was entirely adorable.

Instead of commenting, and risking getting hit, Atsumu simply grabbed your much smaller hand and tugged you towards the spray of the shower.

“Sorry.” He murmured softly, watching as a deep shudder tore through your body at the heat of the water. You shook your head, eyes fluttering shut as you let the water run down your head and face, soaking you completely.

He couldn’t tear his eyes off of you. He couldn’t voice it enough, couldn’t even remotely convey how he felt about you. He’s said it before, but he never understood why someone so soft, so pretty, wanted to be with someone like him.

His teammates, even his brother, didn’t know either. Honestly, sometimes they didn’t think Atsumu deserved you. But he knew that too.

Again, he was a greedy man when it came to you. If you were willing to stay, despite all of his flaws, despite the fact that he did put volleyball over you, then he was never going to let you go.

“Need help washing up?” You teased, gazing up at the tall male, water clung to your lashes, making your eyes look more innocent and brighter.

“That’s just an excuse to touch me isn’t it?” Atsumu flirted back, reaching to yank your naked body closer to his.

Arousal spiked in his blood as your breasts pressed against his own skin, and the way you were looking at him…

How were you so pretty?

“Of course it is. When your boyfriend is a pro volleyball player, and looks like this, you want to touch them as much as you can.” You bantered back, but your eyes were shining, reflecting back so much love and affection that it took his breath away.

“I am pretty great, aren’t I?” He teased but his expression was incredibly soft.

“The best.” You murmured.

Atsumu’s eyes flashed dangerously, he had to have you.

“Let’s hurry so we can exchange gifts already.” You laughed, reaching for the soap. “I’ll help you.”

****

Atsumu found himself sitting on the couch, eyes glued to the tv as you moved around the kitchen, preparing some hot chocolate for the two of you.

“Who’s winning?” You asked, carefully setting the mugs down on the coffee table, taking your place next to him on the couch.

Atsumu was immediately distracted, his eyes moving from the tv to your exposed legs. Your clothes were in the dryer, and you had opted for one of his shirts that was entirely too big for your frame.

He watched as you took a sip from the mug, your tongue darting out to lick at your lips. He couldn’t help imagining you using your tongue on something else.

“Tsumu?” You looked at him curiously. But when you took notice of the hungry look on his face, the way his eyes seemed to zero in on you; you couldn’t help the blush and deep twinge that sparked in your lower belly.

“I think I’m ready for my present now.” He murmured, voice darkening as he reached to pull the mug out of your hand, placing it back on the coffee table.

You swallowed thickly.

“It’s still by the front door. I can go get it for you…” you trailed off shyly, but you knew that he wasn’t talking about that Christmas gift.

His lips twitched in amusement, his body moving to press against your own.

“That wasn’t the present I was talkin’ about. I think I’ll go after the one that’s already a little unwrapped, yeah?” Thick fingers dragged softly against the bare skin of your thigh, sliding up until he was grasping the hem of his t-shirt that rested against the upper part of your leg.

A soft gasp escaped your lips, as he wrapped his hand around your upper thigh and pulled, causing your world to tilt as he forced you onto your back, his larger frame resting between your parted legs.

Atsumu yanked the piece of fabric up, causing the shirt to bundle up against your chest, your body completely exposed to him now.

Shyness burned in your body, manifesting into a bright red resting on your cheeks, the back of your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you casted your gaze to the side, eyes glued to the tv.

A low whistle sounded through Atsumu’s lips as his eyes slid over your skin. His fingers reached up, sliding against the soft skin of your belly, gently tracing along the undersides of your breasts before cupping them in warm hands. His thumb and index finger gently tweaking against your pebbling nipples.

Pleasure rippled through your body, causing you to whine and squirm beneath him, you could already feel slick heat beginning to accumulate between your thighs, your core burning and aching to be touched.

“So pretty.” He cooed, trailing his hand back down your body, gently squeezing at the flesh that sat upon your hips before he gently pried your legs open further. Atsumu moaned in appreciation at the sight of your weeping cunt, swollen and glistening.

“I haven’t even touched you yet and look how wet you are for me.” He breathed in awe, a thick finger gently dragging through your drenched folds, gently pressing against your puffy clit. You jumped at the sudden touch, body trembling at the zap of pleasure it gave you.

“Pretty baby. You want my tongue or my fingers?” he murmured, his voice deep and dark now.

“Both.” you whined; eyes fluttering shut as he pressed down against your clit again.

“My baby is being greedy today.” he grinned, large hand suddenly coming down to swat at your aching cunt.

The rippling sensation of his slap stung deliciously, causing your walls to clench around nothing as a low whine tore through your lips.

“So fucking pretty.” he breathed, and then his tongue flattened against your slit, sliding up to take your swollen clit into his mouth. Atsumu gave you no time to adjust to pleasure that trembled through your body, his movements were fast and greedy as he easily slid a thick finger against your slick walls, curling up to rub against that devastating part inside of you.

A sob tore through your lips as your legs trembled, moving to close together as your body tried wiggling away from the intense pleasure his mouth and fingers were giving you. Atsumu grunted against your slick cunt, the vibrations causing another whine to escape your lips. His finger slid out carefully, as his hands came up to grab at your hips, pinning you to the spot so that you couldn’t move away.

Atsumu didn’t mind the way your thighs were squeezing his head as he sucked and licked at your perfect pussy. Your taste, your smell, the softness of your flesh; if he could choose a way to die it would be this.

“Atsumu!” you cried, gushing around his tongue as your orgasm hit. Your eyes were squeezed shut as you struggled to catch your breath. Your head was spinning in pleasure, body still trembling. Just like how he was in volleyball, Atsumu wasted no time; he tugged your body up, hands moving to remove the shirt completely before he tugged you onto his lap.

You mewled softly as you felt the hardness of his cock slide against your drenched folds, before you felt something thick and blunt being pressed against your entrance; slowly and carefully breaking you open as you clung to his broad shoulders, face pressed against his neck.

You moaned softly against his skin as you sunk down on his thick cock, walls fluttering and clutching at his length until he was sheathed inside you completely. Despite how many times he has had you, he was always in awe at how well you took his cock.

The fullness that Atsumu gave you was always shocking, and you hadn’t realized that you were making pitiful and desperate noises until Atsumu was hushing you softly, pressing his lips against your temple tenderly.

“My pretty baby feels so good.” He moaned, gently nipping at your lobe, voice gravelly as he breathed hotly against your ear. “Gonna start movin’ ya okay?” his large hands gripped at your hips, and carefully he began sliding your body up and down, maneuvering you perfectly; his cock rubbing and stretching your walls in a way that left you whiny and breathless.

You could only take it as he helped you fuck yourself onto his hard member; you clung to him helplessly as he continued to drive his cock up in time with the way he moved your hips down. You whimpered and moaned into his neck, lips pressing against the skin as you attempted to smother your sounds.

“Start movin’ baby.” He murmured.

Despite the way that your legs burned, you listened, body moving on its own. Atsumu slid one of his hands against your back, trailing up to grab at the back of your neck, carefully pulling you away so that he could look at you.

“Fuck… you like ridin’ my cock?” he groaned, eyes taking in your flushed face and glassy eyes. He didn’t give you time to answer; he pulled you in for a heated kiss, tongue clashing and rubbing against your eyes, spit drooling out the sides of your mouth and falling onto your breasts.

You could feel the familiar pressure of your release bubbling up in your stomach, causing your hips to snap down against his faster, his cock reaching a depth within you that caused a loud cry to escape your lips. Atsumu greedily swallowed every sound before pulling away to stare at your face.

“Come on baby, cum for me, yeah?” he breathed, fingers reaching down to play with your swollen clit. “Make it a good one for me.”

Your release was devastating; body convulsing against his as you sagged into his chest, face pressed against his shoulder as you all but went limp in his grasp.

“Fuck.” he rasped, hips rocking faster before a loud groan escaped his mouth, his warmth spilling into your body.

Atsumu’s breathing was ragged as he gasped for air, his hands rubbing against your spent body carefully, one of his hands tangling into the air at the back of your head, keeping you close to him as his lips pressing against your temple once again.

“Merry Christmas baby.” he breathed.

“You want your present now?” you laughed, breathless.

Atsumu couldn’t help but chuckle arms squeezing you tight.

This was a merry Christmas indeed.

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

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Sugar, sugar

(genuinely hate coming up with titles lol)

this is just rowaelin being pining idiots, one of my fave tropes for day 11--delayed love confession

just a note, the lifestyle in this fic is more of a background note and doesnt really take centre stage in this fic. it’s one ive been tempted to write for a while tbh but didnt really get around to it until now

cw: very, very light smut (like barely non existent, but just in case), a lil bit of swearing

enjoy! :)

3k words (officially my longest fic, yay!)

Every thought in Aelin's mind was blank. She trudged through her apartment that she shared with Nehemia, absentmindedly kicking off her heels that Rowan purchased for her months ago. Then the light jacket she wore joined the shoes, the fabric was perfectly soft and perfect for the autumn chill.

It was yet another piece of item that Rowan purchased for her. A lot of the things she had know were thanks to Rowan, either from his own wallet or from the biweekly allowance he sent her—a generous allowance that was a thousand times better than her weekly paycheck from the bookstore she'd been working at since she turned twenty-two; her business degree had turned out to be useless and so she turned to the bookstore that had been her stable job for three years.

Aelin barely touched her weekly wage now, it was practically buried underneath the money the Rowan gave her.

Because Rowan Whitethorn, thirty-five and a successful CEO who was well known, was her sugar daddy. Had been now for fourteen months. But he was more than that, more than just a man that paid her to spend time with him. He respected her, was loyal to her, listened to her and responded with actual sentences instead of a word or two like other men she had dated. He was charming, didn't treat her like she was nothing but arm candy, and she knew him so well, as he knew her, and each fortnight she sometimes forgot their whole arrangement, but she was sharply reminded when she received the notification from her bank that the two and a half thousand dollars that Rowan sent her was now in her savings account.

When she agreed to their arrangement after several get-to-know you dates, Rowan had wanted to give her three and a half grand every week, and gods Aelin had been tempted because she had never had so much money in her life, but told him that it was far too much and negotiated.

Two and a half thousand was the lowest that Rowan was willing to go, and even though Aelin only knew him for two weeks at that point, she could tell that he would not budge, so she agreed to the amount.

The first time that money had landed in her account, Aelin had thought that maybe she had imagined the whole thing, but the money was a sharp reminder of what she know was—a sugar baby. Those words still didn't feel like they applied to her.

And he still spent money on her when they spent time together. Just last week he gifted her with diamond earrings in the shapes of roses with a necklace to match. She wore them tonight, not because he bought them for her but because she genuinely loved the pieces.

Needing something sweet—despite the fact she had only finished her chocolate hazelnut gelato twenty minutes ago—she dug through her fridge and found the brownies that Nehemia had baked the other day. She told herself that she would leave some for her long-time friend, but Aelin really doubted that would happen.

Aelin relished in the cold air of the fridge as she found the new can of whipped cream on the top shelf. The fridge was one of the first things she purchased with the money she was now being gifted with (and after that came a new washer and dryer, a dish-washing machine and television. Almost everything in her apartment was brand new now, the food were actual brands instead of the generic, tasteless shit. She had bras that fit her properly and were so damned comfortable that she forgot she was wearing them half the time).

The old fridge was a cheap hunk of junk that she and Nehemia purchased off Facebook marketplace for a hundred dollars, it barely kept things cold, but with expensive rent and bills and general life things, Nehemia and her couldn't afford anything better.

Which was how she ended up in this situation. Picking up more shifts barely gave them anything extra, because the economy right now in Terrasen was shit. Nehemia had made a joke about needing sugar daddies, and Aelin, knowing that Nehemia could never really do such a thing, had decided that maybe it was a good idea.

Nehemia had told Aelin that she was insane for pursuing such a thing, and that she had only been joking, but Aelin was not and that she could handle herself if things went wrong.

Nehemia had told her not to do anything, but Aelin was determined and started her search. It had taken a while to find a website that was genuine and didn't make her feel like she had to scrub her eyes out with bleach.

She created her page in private, because she not only was Nehemia against the idea, but so was Elide and Lysandra—she didn't dare tell Aedion what she was doing. Her cousin could be an overprotective pain in her ass at times, and Aelin was very well aware that if Aedion caught wind of what she was doing, he would have locked her up in her room without any type of device so she couldn't go forward with her plan.

She appreciated their concern, she did, but she was a consenting, tax-paying adult, and if she wanted to use her time to get paid spending time with a rich man, then Aelin was allowed to do exactly that.

It wasn't prostitution, she had looked it up, because it was the sugar babies that had the power and so that was how it went with her and Rowan.

Aelin didn't even have sex with Rowan until it was the sixth month anniversary of her and Rowan's...relationship (and gods, it was the best sex Aelin ever had. Rowan was a generous and completely unselfish lover).

He was the first one she came across on the site and almost drooled down herself when she saw his picture. Silver hair, pine-green eyes, a beautiful tattoo down the length of his left arm and tanned skin, he was stupidly attractive and only ten years old than her.

Aelin messaged him first only after being on the site for ten minutes, deciding that surely he was the best one and that she needn't bother to look at any other candidates.

They hit it off straight away, and after deciding on a restaurant to meet at, Aelin had informed Nehemia of the matter, which she was promptly met with question after question: why can't a thirty-four year old man find someone his own age? Is he one of those men that can't date a woman five minutes older than him because of some stupid made up reason? How do you know for certain that it's him in the picture? What if he's cat-fishing you? What if he's a freak, or a killer? What if he's just pretending to be rich to kidnap you? What if, what if, what if?

And so after a heated discussion, Nehemia had come along on her date-that-wasn't-really-a-date and sat a few tables away from her and Rowan, watching them—especially him—the entire time like a hawk.

Aelin had completely forgotten that her friend was there, so enraptured by Rowan and what he did and how he saw life.

It had been fourteen months of seeing Rowan and genuinely enjoying spending time with him and weeks ago, she realised that she wanted it to be something more. That she had come to care for him, not because of the money, but purely because it was Rowan and he made her feel seen and he wasn't afraid of her, because she had once been told by an ex that she could be too much and that he couldn't handle all her baggage.

Aelin wanted a life with him.

So Aelin told Rowan she loved him when he dropped her off tonight after their dinner and a movie date, telling him how she felt, and he had said thank you. He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and went home, leaving behind the pine-and-snow scent of him.

Aelin really wanted to find a hole to crawl into and die.

She was scarfing down her third brownie when Nehemia's bedroom door opened, her friend clad in an old matching pj set, her slippers shuffling across the tile.

“What happened? Are you okay?” her friend asked upon seeing Aelin's guttered look. Her dark brows furrowed. “Did that bastard hurt you? If he did, I'll—”

“He didn't do anything,” Aelin interrupted her friend. Taking the food, Aelin planted herself on the teal blue velvet sofa Rowan gave her for Yulemas last year, ignoring the scent of not just him, but of them both from when he came over after work just the other day with pizza and a DVD that she insisted that she watched because it was too good not to, when they forgot all about the movie as Rowan buried himself inside her, leaving hickeys all over her neck that she had to cover up with thick concealer.

Nehemia joined her on the couch, her friend momentarily forgetting for now that she had walked in on her and Rowan just moments after they finished, muttering under her breath in Eyllwe as she glared at them defiling the couch, and gave her a look that Aelin knew that Nehemia would listen to every word that came out from her.

And when Aelin was done recounting the story, all Nehemia could come up with was, “Oh.”

“Yes, 'oh,'. I've probably fucked up the whole thing. So don't be surprised if I call you on your lunch break tomorrow telling you he's broken things off.”

“Aelin, I don't think he will. I know that I'm not the biggest fan of your...situation—”

“I'm aware,” Aelin said, cutting her friend off. “You still won't let me buy you a new mattress, even though yours is hard as a brick and lumpy as hell. I've told you that you can pay me—”

“Aelin,” Nehemia said, “we're not talking about mattresses right now. As I was saying, I doubt he'll break things off because I've seen the way he looks at you. I still think he's too old for you, but he cares for you. You probably just caught him by surprise.”

“How does he look at me?” Aelin was observant, but sometimes when she was with Rowan, all her observation skills went out the window.

“Like he loves you,” Nehemia said, no hint of doubt in her voice.

Aelin sighed, her feelings slowly starting to crush her. “I guess I'll just have to take your word for it.”

Sighing once more, Aelin put the food back in the fridge, showered and went to bed, forgoing her usual night texting ritual with Rowan.

She really wasn't looking forward to tomorrow.

X X X X X X

Rowan couldn't concentrate, which wasn't a good thing, since his job dealt with having to concentrate all the time. But no matter what mind-focusing techniques he did, he couldn't stop thinking about Aelin.

Couldn't stop thinking about how she said she was in love with him. How her beautiful eyes had been sparkling when she said those words to him. And how the light in them dimmed when he said thank you and kissed her on the cheek, telling her that he would talk to her later. But he hadn't texted her, nor did she.

I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.

Thank you. He really couldn't believe that was what he said. Felt like an utter fool and a bastard as he realised he probably crushed her heart. Aelin didn't like being vulnerable, and she had been when she said those words and he had gone and fucked it all up.

Rowan loved Aelin, he did, but he truly wasn't prepared for those words. He loved how on the weekends they would be up at one am, baking chocolate goodies, dancing in the quiet kitchen, humming quietly to Aelin's classical music playlist, with her wearing not the nightgowns that he loved, but one of his old hoodies.

He didn't think that he would get along with her so well once they met, thinking that their online interactions were nothing but a fluke. He was moments away from deleting the profile because he didn't actually create it, but Fenrys had, his friend grumbling that he needed a girlfriend, with Rowan arguing that creating a profile on a sugar daddy site was not dating but probably the opposite, when Aelin messaged him.

His life-long friend didn't listen, much to Rowan's annoyance—but he didn't grab his phone out of his friends hand; Rowan blamed it on the several whiskys he had downed by that point.

Aelin bewitched him on that first meet up. She was intelligent as hell and funny, and creative and beautiful. He was aware of why she was on the date with him, but he didn't care, just as long as he got to see her again.

Fourteen months later and Rowan was still bewitched. He wanted to be with her on a permanent basis, but wasn't completely sure how to take that step.

Clearly, Aelin had taken that step for them, and Rowan was the worlds biggest moron.

I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.

Thank you.

Groaning, Rowan turned away from his computer and looked at the skyline, ignoring the buildings to instead watch the puffy clouds drift by.

Aelin loved watching the clouds, loved stargazing, loved questioning about the universe and what the skies held.

He never really paid any of that stuff attention, not until he met her.

Rowan didn't want to lose her, didn't want her to think that he was about to break up with her over this. He had to see her, so he grabbed his keys and wallet, told his secretary to hold his calls for the rest of the day, and went to visit Aelin.

X X X X X X

It had been an usually busy day for a Wednesday and Aelin was glad for her lunch break as she trudged up to the roof of the shopping centre. She wasn't really allowed up here, but she wanted some fresh air and to feel the sun against her skin as she sat down and dug into her lunch—fast food, unfortunately for her, because she was so frazzled from last night that she completely forgot about making a pack lunch.

Rowan hadn't called her, or texted her. Not even an email had been sent her way.

Aelin hated that she felt so damned mopey. She was an independent woman, but gods, even a good morning text would have been fine.

She finished her lunch, popping several mints into her mouth to get rid of the onion taste, when the roof door crashed open and a familiar hulking figure came into view.

He must have spoken to Elide to find her here.

Aelin's brow furrowed. “Rowan, what are you doing here?” Oh gods, surely he wasn't going to break up with her, she still had hours to go; there'd be no way she could work if she had tears in her eyes.

Taking her hands in his, Aelin stood up. She steeled herself against whatever he was going to say.

“I love you, Aelin. I'm in love with you, too,” Rowan said, his eyes soft and full of genuine love. Aelin's heart shot up into her throat. “I want a life with you. I want us to buy a home, one that has warmth and character, and a big garden. I want a dog. And kids too, if you want, I know that you've never mentioned it, but if you don't want any then that is completely fine. I want to support you in whatever endeavors you want to take, and if you ever want to go back to university, then I'll support you, or if you want to find a way to use your business degree, I'll help you with that, too. Whatever you want Aelin, I'll give it to you, as long as you're by my side, I'll be happy.”

Aelin was silent for so long that Rowan thought that maybe he shocked her into silence. But eventually, she smiled, one that was dazzling in its beauty that it took his breath away.

“You love me?”

“I do, Aelin, I love you.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Rowan groaned at the amusement in her tone, in her eyes. “You're never going to let me live that down, are you?”

She smirked. “Definitely not. It'll be a nice story to tell our children...one day. For now, I think we should contend with being proper significant others.”

Rowan nodded, smiling. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good, because I need to get back to work, since I'm no longer accepting your allowances. I won't deny the use of your credit card, but other than that, you are no longer my sugar daddy.”

It was Rowan's turned to smirk, and it was the one that made her core clench. “How about I be 'daddy' instead?”

Aelin snorted, even as she clenched around nothing again. Smacking his arm lightly, Aelin kissed him. “Only if you behave,” she said against his lips, “and now I really need to go back to work.”

Rowan walked her back, their fingers laced together, and as she turned to say goodbye, Aelin said, “I'll see you later, daddy.”

Rowan groaned, and it took everything in him not to take her hand and into his car to have his wicked way with her.

By the time he thought of a response, Aelin was already back to work, helping a customer with an impressive stack of books in her arms.

But she knew he was still there, because the way she swayed her hips to the counter was all for him, and when she saw him watching her, Aelin winked, making Rowan's heart flutter in his chest.

He really did love her. And he would live with her teasing him for the rest of his life, just as long as she was with him.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work

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xmyshya · 3 years

Text

Shoved it: chapter III - Kickflip

summary: You don’t like skaters. They’re unruly, misbehaved and rude. But this one encounter just might change your view. genre: fluff warnings: tooth-rotting fluff (seriously, make a dentist appointment), slow burn, mutual pining betas: @vanille–kiss as always I’m eternally grateful to you, I love you lots a/n: Written for ANILYSIUM (former HQHQ) Server Collab with the prompt “Meet Ugly”. Check the event’s masterlist here! series navi: masterlist | previous | next wc: 1.7k

This is it, you think staring out the window. This is the last tutoring session. Something makes you sad about it, and as if the world tried to be sympathetic, it’d been raining since morning. Early afternoon brought thunders and a downpour so dense, it looked like a fog. You shift your gaze to refocus on the boy on the opposite side of the desk.

“So, ready for the big day?”

“I don’t think I’d be more ready, even if we sat for another week.” He shrugs.

“Time to go home, then.”

You lift from the chair and pack your things, and after a second he does the same. Even though it stopped raining some time ago, puddles are still lake sized and streets have yet to stop being rivers. You’re not really keen on leaving the school building, but it’s evening, your bus leaves soon, and you’re hungry.

“I’m gonna go on ahead.” You say before he can stop you.

This is it, he thinks after you disappear behind the door. He really wants it to last longer, to spend more time in a quiet empty classroom with you. A sigh leaves his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, looking around the dark room for the last time before locking it up.

There’s still at least an hour before his bus arrives, so Rin drags his feet to the lockers before switching to his street shoes and walking out of the building. Everything is flooded, and he sighs again, slumps his shoulders and shoves his hands into pockets. At least it’s not raining anymore.

Suna sees you still waiting at the stop and wonders if this is his chance. Maybe it’s a sign from heavens for him to speak to you, to be friends or maybe even ask you out. You’re focused on your phone, eyes not registering the approaching boy and the car, splashing fountains on its path.

Acting purely on instinct, he reaches you in a few long strides and pulls you away from the curb just in time. Luck isn’t on his side though, as the vehicle passes at the exact same moment, soaking him from head to toe.

“Well… fuck.”

Shocked; this is how you feel after realising what has just happened. The boy who has been pestering you for the past weeks, the one you did your utmost best to avoid, is standing right in front of you completely drenched. It would be you, if he didn’t react; it should have been you.

“Th-thank you.” You mutter while playing with the hem of your uniform. “Do you live far?”

“No, but I still have an hour before the bus arrives.”

Suna tries to wring the water from his uniform, but no matter how much he squeezes and twists, liquid still pours in thick streams. You try to suppress the urge to brush the wet hair stuck to his face and notice him shivering.

“Oh, uhh… My bus will be here in a moment, and” you feel the embarrassment heat up your cheeks, “I live 2 stops away, so you can come and dry yourself first. If you want, I mean.”

The weight of his stare is almost unbearable, but you miss the blush creeping up his neck and ears, not daring to look back. His voice is quiet and shaky, as he responds with

“Yeah, I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Rin still can’t believe he’s on the way to your house. Opting to stay by the door so as not to wet the whole floor he wishes the circumstances were different, and he wasn’t soaked to the bone, but he’s not picky. If this is what it takes to change your perspective, then so be it.

He sighs, as he runs his hand through sopping hair. Nervousness starts to get to him, words get lost in his head as his mind presses to say something, anything. Since when does he have trouble speaking to a girl?

For some reason his heart is pounding and palms are sweaty, though (he hopes) it might also be because of the incident. So for now, Suna opts to watch you stare at the passing landscapes, as if you were afraid to meet his eyes.

“This is our stop.” You finally say as the bus slows down.

***

Panic strikes when you enter home. Do you even have any clothes that would fit? There are some old sweats and t-shirts of your dad, but it’s difficult to say if the size is right. Not to mention that it’s the first time you invited a boy to your house, and your parents aren’t even here.

After leading him to a bathroom, you disappear in the storage room in search of something for Suna to change into. You grab some pants and t-shirt, and go back to him.

“You should take a hot shower, otherwise you might get a cold. I’ll put your uniform in the dryer afterwards.”

You hand him a wrapped bundle and pull a towel from a drawer. Just as you’re about to leave, Suna mutters a quiet “thank you”, and for the first time you genuinely smile at him.

When he walks out of the bathroom, you’re in the living room surrounded by piles of books and notes; your attention shifts to his presence only after he speaks.

“I hope you don’t mind, I already turned the dryer on. Didn’t want to trouble you.”

His hair is still damp from the shower, and the sweatpants are a little too short, but at least they’re dry. With each lift of his hand to rub the towel at his hair, the t-shirt slides up revealing his toned abdomen. It takes a lot of energy not to sneak a peek.

“Trouble?” You’re confused by his statement. “It’s my fault this even happened in the first place, I should have-”

“Listen, I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to, okay?” He rubs his neck nervously and the shirt rides up again. “So don’t blame yourself.”

You only nod in response, too flustered to push words through your throat. All of a sudden you remember about the mess around, despite having a guest.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I just have so much backlog to work on, I’ll clean this up!”

“No!” Rintarou notices your little shiver. “I mean, you don’t have to… I’ve been holding you back, so just… don’t mind me.” A moment of silence fills his mind with guilt. “Hey uhh, do you mind if I get us a snack?”

Now you’ve done it. There’s a visitor, his first time at your place, and a first boy at your place, and not only are you ignoring him for the sake of homeworks, you also failed at hospitality completely by not offering any food. It is late, and neither of you had dinner yet.

“Ah! I’ll get it! You’re a guest after all!” You almost jolt out from under the table, but a hand on your shoulder keeps you in place.

“No no, please, I don’t want to be any more of a bother. You’ve been helping me with school and now I’m just intruding, so let me do this for you.”

“Okay.”

***

When Suna comes back with two plates of omurice, you’re deeply immersed in your studies. He places the dishes carefully in vacant spots, the gentle knock against the table grabs your attention, and cotton-candy-like warmth spreads in your chest. You expected a snack, some yoghurts or a bowl of nuts, or whatever else, not a warm dinner with a “ganbare” written on it.

Papers are shoved to the far end of the top, making space for the hot food. It looks delicious and you can’t wait to taste it. You clear your throat and speak hoping it would distract you from that feeling spreading in your chest.

“Would you like to watch something while we eat?”

“Sure, do you mind if I…”

He gestures between his and your side of the table; you shake your head and shift to make room for him, which he fills right away.

Omurice is indeed mouth-watering, creamy and well seasoned, and in response to your surprised expression he simply says “I have a younger sister, I can make a thing or two”. The more you know about the boy, the more you like him. You try to dismiss it as just admiring him as a person, convince yourself that it’s nothing but a surprise.

It proves to be difficult, however, when you barely register what’s on the screen, because of his proximity; it’s hard, when every brush of your arms against each other sends sparks to your brain; it’s tough, when you can feel his warmth radiating from his body and you want to be engulfed by it.

It’s nearly impossible, when you lean back on your palms, but his hand is already there, and you cover it with yours. Both of you jolt with hearts thumping violently, praying that maybe, just maybe, the other one doesn’t hear it.

After that neither of you moves, eyes trained on the screen but somehow not registering the events at all. In an attempt to ground yourself, you support your chin with your hand, and that’s the last thing you remember.

Rin hears your soft snores and, seeing your peaceful and relaxed expression, smiles as he brushes some stray strands off your face. He’s already overstayed his welcome, uniform long forgotten in the dryer. It’s wrinkled and still smells like a puddle, guess he’ll just have to give you these clothes back on the next day.

Not wanting to trouble you any more than he already has, Suna brings the plates to the kitchen, arranges books and papers in neat piles, and covers you with a blanket lying nearby. He catches himself almost planting a kiss on your forehead.

Before scooping all his stuff and walking out, he scribbles a quick note:

“My clothes were dry and I didn’t want to wake you. Don’t work too hard. See you tomorrow :)”

Taglist: @kageyamas-love @mikasbloodbag

#haikyuu x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna fluff #suna rintarou fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #suna x y/n #suna rintarou x y/n #hq fluff #hq x reader #hq x y/n #anilysium server collab #shoved;it #mysh.whitedwarf.[hq]

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onlysarah235678 · 4 years

Text

A Little Bit Part 2

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

A/N: Here’s part two! Thanks to those who read the first part, or are just joining! Enjoy! I start work again this week, but I’ll do my best to keep writing ❤.

Warnings: Slight kitten angst? Gay panic and very brief harassment.

You hear from Billie Dean exactly two days later.

You’re actually at home since you worked the weekend, but you are just hanging out with your dog when the phone buzzed from the coffee table. You had just finished lunch and you were about to fall asleep when Milo’s head jerked up at the annoying sound. You sigh before leaving the comfort of the couch to see who it is. Hopefully it isn’t someone who needs anything from you because you had your Monday planned out already. You were staying at home for the rest of the day trying to relax for once. You might take a long walk with Milo later, but you weren’t so sure.

All thoughts of where to hike left your mind as you grab your phone and see you have a text from an unknown number. You don’t really get out much and only talk to a few friends, but all of their numbers are in your phone. It doesn’t even occur to you that it might be Billie. You honestly just thought she was being nice to you since she’d been super late to her appointment.

Despite the flirting smiles and curious looks she’d shot you during the appointment, you hadn’t wanted to think too much into it. You’d hate to get your hopes up for nothing.

What you were hoping for, well you weren’t going to admit that yet.

Once you managed to find the courage to actually look at what the message said—beyond her name of course, you took a deep breath and sat back on the couch.

Hi Y/N, it’s Billie Dean. Are you busy, sweetheart?

There the nickname was again. You ignored how reading it and of course imagining her saying it made you feel and decided to focus on the question she asked. You looked around your living room where the television was paused on a scene from The Blair Witch Project, and where Milo sat on the couch next to you, his giant paws on your leg. You shook your head muttering something under your breath about being silly before you typed out a quick response.

Not at all.

You contemplated typing more because you supposed you should ask if she needed something. However, once you saw she was already typing a response you had to stop yourself from throwing your phone. You shouldn’t be this flustered. Not by the prospect of answering questions about kittens. That’s all this was going to be. Of course it was. You were just helping -possible helping – a client. A beautiful and charming client.

Don’t be silly.

Billie Dean Howard had worked hard to get where she was. Her career was somewhere she wouldn’t have even dared to imagine just 10 years ago. She was an accomplished woman who used her gift to help people. It wasn’t always easy of course, but as she traveled to random, remote places around the world trying to guide stubborn lost souls, she knew she wouldn’t change a thing. She loved what she did, and she liked to think that she was good at it.

Today, however, she was realizing that despite her best efforts, she may not be good at everything. Try as she might, she couldn’t get a hang of this kitten thing. They were a lot more work than she had anticipated. After leaving the vet’s office on Saturday, she’d gone to the pet store and spent a small fortune on food, toys, litter, and a bed. You had told her that the kittens wouldn’t be using litter for a while and she’d foolishly thought that meant they wouldn’t need to go. How idiotic.

As she found out the moment she got home, after the kittens had gotten a meal from Bit, they had all needed to go. She spent a good twenty minutes cleaning out the carrier and each kitten that had gotten themselves dirty. She had set everything up in the house, placed all of the clean kittens on their bed in a nice quiet room, only to have Bit take each one of them into a different room. The laundry room of all places. Billie had let her because she really didn’t want to fight with her, but she’d been constantly checking on them to make sure everything was okay.

She had to make sure they were all warm enough and that Bit was doing her job feeding and grooming them. It was exhausting and Billie was definitely reconsidering this whole fostering thing.

By the time Monday rolled around, she was already stressing about work. She had found someone in the neighborhood who agreed to watch the kittens while she left to do some promotional work for her show, but she quickly found she couldn’t focus. She rushed through work and was home by noon checking on the kittens again.

They all seemed fine at first glance, but then she recounted them and realized that one was missing. She did her best not to panic immediately. She moved Bit a little, earning a hiss of annoyance, to see if the last kitten was hiding underneath her.

No such luck.

Next, Billie looked around the laundry room before moving to the closest room to start a wider search. It wasn’t until she checked her bedroom that she found the kitten just sitting on the comforter. She cursed under her breath as she hurried to check on the little furball.

He, Billie had decided the runt was a boy, was cold to the touch and she panicked. She thought about her options before she ran back downstairs to where she’d abandoned her purse. She held the little kitten close as she found her phone.

When you responded to her first text, Billie considered sending another one, but decided against it. She ended up just calling you, and the urge to curse was strong, but instead you took a deep breath before answering.

“Hi Billie.”

“Hi, Y/N. I’m sorry to bother you. You’re not at work, are you?”

You smile at the concern in Billie’s voice until it occurs to you it may not be for the reasons you think. Still, you shook your head before explaining that you had the day off and that you were at home. She didn’t say anything immediately, but when Billie did speak up, you could tell she was a little stressed.

“Oh. I don’t mean to interrupt your day off, but I had a kitten question.”

So Billie tells you about what’s going on. That she found the kitten away from Bit and the others, cold and just randomly in her room. You ask a few questions, and Billie’s answers are more concerning than reassuring. You decide to focus on the matter at hand before asking anything else.

“Do you have an electric blanket or something you could use to warm him up?”

Billie nearly laughs at the thought, but she stops herself just in time. She simply shakes her head as she heads up the stairs to the linen closet.

“In LA? I’m afraid not.”

You nearly roll your eyes at your stupidity. You had forgotten the fact that it rarely reached freezing in this city. You had moved from a state of unpredictable weather where you needed to be prepared for ice storms and heat waves, and you sometimes forgot that wasn’t normal. You nodded in acknowledgment before you went to the next suggestion you had.

“Right. What about towels?”

You stay on the phone with Billie while she puts some towels in the dryer to warm them up. Surprisingly Bit and her other kittens don’t seem to care despite being right next to it. She then goes to her bedroom and grabs the first blanket she sees that coincidentally already has cat hair on it. She had forgotten about that part of having a pet.

“Be honest. Should I be worried?”

You hold back a sigh as you stand up and begin to wander aimlessly around the room. You don’t want to lie to Billie, but at the same time you remember how on Saturday she’d already claimed that the runt, the boy, they’d decided was her favorite. You would hate for her to be upset by his loss. That said, you couldn’t really give her an honest assessment over the phone.

“Has he been nursing today?

Billie shook her head at this as she put her phone on the bed so she can wrap the kitten in the blanket. She speaks a little louder as she works on making a kitten burrito.

“I’m not sure about today. I had someone watch them while I worked, but yesterday he seemed fine. Normal at least.”

You thought about this before considering your options. Billie had already told you that other than the fact that he was a little cold, he seemed fine. You decided to go with your gut on this one.

“He could get worse, but if you can just keep him warm today and see that he eats, he’ll improve. Let me know if anything else changes though.”

I’ll be back at work tomorrow.

You almost say this, but decide against it because you don’t want it to sound like you wouldn’t be willing to…No. Would you? Of course you would. It was your job. You couldn’t just not see a kitten who was sick. You could of course just tell her to go to work and see another doctor, but you secretly wanted to see her yourself.

Your musing is cut off by the sound of the blonde sighing in what you realize is relief. You smile slightly as she thanks you, but don’t really know what to say in response.

“Thank you so much, Y/N. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing before I freaked out on you.”

You laugh slightly as you shake your head and turn back toward where Milo was still sitting on the couch. He was waiting for you to return so you both could go back to the movie you’ve honestly seen too many times. You didn’t realize you’d said this until it was too late. Fortunately, you didn’t get time to cringe at your word vomit before you heard Billie laugh.

You weren’t sure you’d ever heard something sound quite so nice.

“Don’t worry about it. I was just watching the Blair Witch Project which I’ve already seen about a dozen times.”

“You like stories about the supernatural?”

You don’t answer immediately because you can’t help but feel like this is a trick question. You do in fact like a good ghost story, but the question seems to be more about whether or not you believe in them. At least that’s where you see this going. So you jump the gun a little with a small smile as you plop back down next to Milo.

“I definitely like them. Good ones at least, but do I believe in them? It depends.”

At this point, Billie was seated on her bed with the kitten that she definitely hadn’t named Mickey on her lap. She could practically see you shrugging and she couldn’t help but ask.

“Depends on what?”

You’re not sure what possesses you to answer the way you do, but you’re smirking and speaking before you can stop yourself.

“Maybe I’ll tell you sometime.”

You barely resist the frantic urge to start screaming at yourself for your out of character display of courage. You’re not usually the one to instigate things. You’ve been accused of being a wallflower in the past by many of your friends and a few people you’ve dated. However, there’s something inexplicably appealing about the idea of getting to see Billie Dean again.

It doesn’t occur to you until too late that your statement could be taken as flirting. Only after you hear her chuckle in amusement do you realize what you’ve done.

“Is that an invitation?”

Despite your initial hesitance about flirting with a client, you decide to throw caution to the wind and just see where this goes. The worst you could do was embarrass yourself, right? It’s not like you were at work now anyway. Not like last time.

“That depends. Would you be interested?”

You and Billie Dean agree to meet later that week. With both of your work schedules full until the weekend, you have a whole 4 days until you’ll see her again, but you’d manage. Somehow.

Well, she did agree to send you updates on the kittens, but that would most likely be by text. You wouldn’t get the perk of hearing her voice.

That thought made you pause. After hanging up the phone, you’d returned to your movie with Milo, but you paused it again before reaching for your computer. You tried not to feel like a creep as you opened your browser and searched Billie’s name.

You figured that you should know at least the basics about her and her show so you didn’t put your foot in your mouth when you saw her on Saturday. The first thing you see when you look is her award-winning smile, literally with some information written underneath it. You disregard the details about where to watch her show for now and go to her website.

For the next hour or so you read a lot about how she got started as a medium and what she’d been doing for the past ten years. You watched a few interviews and started an episode of her show when Milo reminded you of how late it was.

You decided to take a break from being too curious and take Milo on a walk like you’d originally planned. He jumped up at the word ‘walk’ and ran to grab his leash while you ran upstairs to change. On your way back down the stairs you grab your phone and keys before heading to the parking lot. You’re determined to enjoy your day off, so you follow Milo out to the car and do your best to ignore the growing anxiety associated with seeing Billie again. You’re excited of course, but you don’t know what to expect from the medium. Perhaps you just shouldn’t have any expectations for this…get together. You hadn’t called it anything in particular. You were just going to get lunch.

You still hadn’t convinced yourself not to worry by the time you got Milo buckled in the backseat.

Billie Dean hadn’t really given much thought to the idea of having children. Since her career had taken off, she’d convinced herself that she was too busy. She wouldn’t have the time for them and she honestly wasn’t sure she wanted them. She’d never really thought she’d be a good mother.

That said, if raising children was anything like taking care of kittens, then she was definitely right. This experience was very humbling.

Since she’d hung up with you, she’d been multitasking like a pro. She’d been spending time with the kittens, and making sure that Mickey had nursed and was cuddled up to Bit like the rest of his siblings. Billie had noticed quickly that Bit didn’t pay as much attention to the runt of her litter as she did to everyone else. This observation made her worry and as a result, she spent a lot more time caring for him to make up for it. She was getting a hang of this, but it was exhausting.

Between going over the rest of her week with her assistant and responding to emails from her producer, she was checking on the cats to the point that Bit was probably annoyed.

She hadn’t decided what she was going to do with the cats once they were old enough to adopt out. She knew with her work she couldn’t keep them. Not without changing her schedule significantly. She didn’t want to keep them just to have them stay with other people.

Unfortunately, no one had responded to the found posters she’d had her assistant print out and post around her neighborhood. This made her think that Bit really had been a stray, or at the very least no one wanted her. She sighed as she looked down at her watch again. She’d been checking on them about every half hour which seemed excessive, but she’d found that if she waited any longer, she’d just get antsy and not get any work done. She put out her cigarette in an ash tray, she’d only been smoking when she was away from the cats, and headed upstairs.

When Billie arrived to the laundry room, she saw Bit getting situated again onto the bed with all of her kittens. Or at least 5 of them. She sighed in annoyance before she confirmed who was missing, and immediately left the room in search for him.

This was the third time the Bit had moved Mickey to her room. She found him exactly where he’d been last time, on her pillow. She moved to pick him up and he stirred slightly before making the cutest little noise. Billie smiled before taking him back to the laundry room where Bit was busy grooming herself. She put him back among the other kittens, and after checking on them she headed back downstairs.

It was only a few minutes later when she heard the sound of quiet footsteps upstairs. She listened carefully and waited until she heard Bit jump up onto something to go investigate. She reached the top of the stairs at the same time that Bit was leaving her room and darting back to the laundry room. She groaned loudly as she saw Mickey lying on her pillow again shifting and mewling from being jostled once again.

“For the love of…”

You were still hiking at one of your favorite spots when Billie was struggling to deal with her cats. It wasn’t too crowded at the park you’d chosen because it was the middle of the day on a Monday. That said, there were still plenty of people and dogs around to keep your mind from wandering too much to Billie.

You had to be a little careful with Milo when out in public. Not because he was aggressive, but because it was easy for him to get overwhelmed. He was blind in one eye due to an injury he’d suffered when he was a puppy, and it was sometimes difficult for him to keep track of everything around him. That said, even though parts of this park were designated off-leash areas, Milo usually preferred to stay by your side. He could be a little anxious when surrounded, but he was getting a lot better from going to work with you every day.

For this reason, you weren’t too concerned when you saw a family with several children approaching you on the trail. Milo loved children.

After Milo got his fill of pets from the children, the two of you continued on your path toward the park. Your mind started to wander as Milo dragged you toward the wide-open space with at least a dozen dogs. The two of you were only half way through your walk, but you had a feeling you’d be stopping for a while to make friends.

At the end of the walk when you arrived back to your car, you realized that you had been without cell service for most of the walk. You had a couple of text messages from Billie Dean, one of which included a picture. That made you smile until you read the message that came with the picture of Mickey sleeping in Billie’s arms.

Why does Bit keep moving him out of bed and dumping him in my room?

You frowned at the thought of this happening, but before you could respond Milo barked and reminded you that you hadn’t opened the door for him. You sighed before getting him settled in the backseat before leaning against the car to type a quick response.

I’m not sure, but Bit may just not want to take care of him.

You consider how that might make Billie feel, but realize that you can’t really sugar coat it. Sometimes a mother abandoned their runts because she didn’t think they’d survive. You hoped that this wasn’t the case for Mickey, but hearing what Bit’s been doing doesn’t make you feel very optimistic. You realize that Billie had sent this message over an hour ago so you send another quick message before heading home.

Sorry I didn’t respond earlier. I’m out hiking with Milo.

The drive home takes a little longer than it usually would because you take a detour at the pet store. You made the mistake of making Milo wait too long in the backseat by himself and he’d chewed his leash in half out of spite. At least that’s what you told yourself. So you led him on a short leash into the pet store to find a replacement. You find one in a few minutes and are headed to the register when you hear someone behind you say your name.

“Dr. Y/L/N.”

You turn to see an employee that you had honestly hoped wasn’t working today. She wasn’t at the register like she’d been last time and you’d foolishly hoped that meant she wasn’t in. You tried not to sigh in annoyance as you turned around with a tight smile, waving the leash in your hand slightly.

“Hey. How are you?”

You ask as a courtesy because you honestly don’t want to spend any more time talking to this woman. You didn’t have anything against the brunette, except that she couldn’t take a hint. She was persistent to the point that it made you a little uncomfortable. The first time you were in here she’d asked you way too many personal questions, and since then you’d called the vet clinic here a few times and whenever she answered she’d flirt some more.

You hoped that this wouldn’t happen again, but when you noticed Claire’s smile you realized it was wishful thinking.

“Oh I’ve been fine. Just bored silly around here. You haven’t called much.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to this, so you shrugged before gesturing to Milo who seemed to remember the brunette. He tried to move forward to sniff her, but his leash wasn’t long enough.

“Well, I’m not at work today, as you can see. I just needed a new leash for Milo.”

Saying this was a mistake because Milo heard his name and his tail started wagging which was the only invitation Claire needed. She moved forward and knelt down to pet him making the same mistake a lot of people do. She reached for him on his blind side and he jerked back a little before turning his head so he could see the hand petting him. He panted happily once Claire took the hint before his tail resumed wagging. You tried not to glare at him for being a traitor. It wasn’t his fault.

“Aw did you eat your leash? Handsome boy.”

You were glad that at least Milo was having fun. You just nod before shifting slightly so you could look around you for an excuse to leave.

“Yeah, he wasn’t too happy with me.”

You pause as you spot the food aisle a little bit away before adding. “You’ll be lucky to get dinner after doing that, Milo.”

Your bluff had its intended effect and Milo pulled away from Claire and started pawing at you. You just rolled your eyes before leading him toward the end of the aisle. To your escape.

“Yeah, I know. Dinner time. We can go.”

Milo tugs you to toward the front door but you stop by the register first, not failing to notice that the brunette followed you. You went to the first open register and put the leash on the conveyor belt before shooting the person behind the counter a pleading look. She was on your side.

“Hi Emma.”

Help me.

The blonde looked between you and her coworker with a frown, quickly understanding what had happened. It wasn’t like Claire was subtle. She’d ask about you almost every day she was working in the clinic, not that she’d told you that.

“Hey, doc. What’s up?”

You offer the blonde a smile before you open your mouth to respond when you’re cut off. You watch Claire move so she’s standing right next to Emma, practically pushing her out of the way as she eyed you curiously.

“Yeah, if you’re not working you must be free tonight.”

There are a lot of different ways you’d like to respond to this, but you choose to do your best to hide how annoyed you are as you shake your head. You’re free as a bird tonight, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to tell her that.

The lie you come up with though isn’t one you had intended on using.

“Actually, I’m not. I’m going out with my girlfriend.”

Luckily it doesn’t seem like Claire’s prepared a response for this, and you just breathe a sigh of relief as Emma hands you your bag with a smile.

“Thanks. Good to see you two.”

You leave quickly and curse yourself the whole way to the car. What an idiot. Why would you say that?

You’re ticked at Claire for being so aggressive, again. You slammed the door shut behind Milo, without meaning to, and you hurried to get in the car to scratch him behind his ears. You shoot him an apologetic look before sighing in defeat. You hate that you’d lied and that your self-esteem took a hit as well, but what could you do? It’s not like you were going to agree to going anywhere with Claire.

“Sorry, buddy. Let’s get you home for some dinner, hmm? Then we can watch whatever you want.”

Part 3

#american horror story #murder house #ahs fic #ahs imagine #billie dean howard x reader #billie dean howard #a little bit #my fic #ahs #more Billie dean in the next part #promise!

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shield-sheafson · 4 years

Link

Chapters: ¼ Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd Characters: Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown Additional Tags: Found Family, Fluff, Light Angst, Homelessness, Cass knows like 8 words rip, slight crime, Jason Todd and Cassandra Cain meet earlier, Cassandra Cain and Jason Todd are Siblings, but not blood siblings in this just two kids who adopted each other, street siblings au Summary:

Professional street urchin Jason Todd is struck by an uneasy feeling and suspects someone is following him. That someone is former child assassin Cassandra Cain, who, with nowhere else to go, is taking a leap of faith.

—

This is my take on the Street Siblings AU by @a-sketchy-character! I told them earlier that I’d write something for it, so here I am owning up! Of course, you can read their comic based on this au @streetsiblings. Of course, @greytoiletpaper also wrote one (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27100699/chapters/66175306) and Experimental_Muse wrote this one (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037882). Go check them out! Since this is such a popular concept, I hope I do a good job.

—

Jason pops another M&M into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue instead of chewing it. He has no idea why someone would throw away a perfectly good bag of candy, but he’s not going to think too hard about it. Maybe he’s imagining it, but he can feel the strength coming back into his limbs. He feels less sleepy, too.

He tucks the empty bag into the pocket of his frayed jeans, already regretting finishing them. Now that he’s eaten something, what else is he going to do with his day? He hasn’t found any cigarettes, which is a pain, since it’s so cold that his nose feels numb and he could really use some warm smoke to fill up his aching lungs.

Maybe he’ll go to the library. He’s still too small to kick out for loitering, right? Just as he turns to leave the alley, Jason feels a shiver run up his spine. He whips around, raising his fists defensively. Nobody’s there. This doesn’t calm him down. Jason squints as he peers into the dark, wet alley, looking for any sign of movement.

“Hey,” he says in the deepest, roughest voice he can muster. “Think good and hard about what you’re about to do, buddy.”

What is the invisible person about to do? Jason isn’t sure, but he wants them to think good and hard about it. He hears a scuffle and nearly jumps out of his skin only to realize that it’s just a rat migrating from beneath the dumpster to a pile of cardboard boxes.

“What are you playing?” Jason asks. This voice is making his throat hurt. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Nobody answers. Jason weighs his options and decides that the best choice is to make a run for it. He nearly slips on a patch of slush in his haste to get out of the alley. Even when he’s a safe two blocks away he still has an uneasy feeling.

—

A couple of hours later, Jason has shaken off that gross feeling and has settled down outside the 7-11. He used to go here a lot– when his mom was around, it was where they got their groceries. Sometimes she’d splurge and they would split a can of Yoohoo. Even though he doesn’t have any money to go in with, something about the worn bricks and the smoky smell is comforting.

A gaunt man with dark circles under his eyes and a scraggly gray beard joins him, sitting gingerly on the damp ground.

“Afternoon,” he says cordially.

“It’s dark out,” Jason says. He’s not sure what time it actually is. Days and nights tend to blur together. They’re basically the same, though nights tend to be more dangerous.

“Damned if it isn’t,” the man says. “What’s a kid doing out this late?”

“Anywhere else I’m supposed to be?” Jason asks, scowling.

“Just askin’, just askin’,” the man says, raising his palms. “I’d just get somewhere safe if I was you. Some guy’s been– what?”

“What?” Jason repeats after him. “What’s going on?”

“Just thought I… It’s not safe for kids out there lately, is all I’m sayin’.”

Jason sighs and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, dragging down the edge of his hoodie. “Is it that big a deal?” It’s never really safe out there, but he’s always gotten by fine. “You’re not a kid, so you’re fine.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a little empathy,” the man says.

Jason rolls his eyes and walks off to find another place to lurk.

—

It happens the next day, too. Jason has the unpleasant feeling of eyes on his back when he covertly removes a woman’s wallet from her purse and he’s certain someone is about to yell “Stop! Thief!” but nobody does.

When he walks proudly out of McDonald’s with a bag of french fries bought will ill-gotten money, he expects someone to ask for one. Of course, he would have said “no,” but it’s almost disappointing when there’s nobody to answer. He’s not disappointed enough to be really put-off, though. He still stuffs his face wholeheartedly.

Maybe he’s just being paranoid.

—

Jason has been sleeping rough lately. The condemned buildings are already full of squatters, and he knows better than to accept “help” from people who offer couches to young boys. With nowhere inside to sleep, he’s been hiding from the sleet in a cardboard shelter he built in an out-of-view area between buildings and lined with newspaper.

Of course, it’s not usually safe to build a fire when your whole house is so flammable, but he’s risking it tonight. He has a pile of yet more cardboard and newspaper on the other side of the alley, but it’s damp and he’s having a rough time getting it to set alight.

“Come on,” he mutters as he clicks the lighter yet again. It’s a nice one (his mother had liked it a lot) but it doesn’t seem to be doing the trick. Jason curses under his breath as the edge of the funnies page smolders and blackens without actually catching fire. Garfield stares at him judgmentally. That’s when he hears it.

A light “thump,” soft but unmistakable. Jason’s head snaps up. He’s afraid to turn and look. At best, it’s another bum looking to share his fire. At worst, it’s…

“What are you looking at?” he says harshly, still not turning his head. “Go find somewhere else.”

The presence at his back doesn’t go away. He feels frozen in place– he’ll admit it, he’s afraid. He knows someone has been following him. He doesn’t know who or why. He hasn’t had a moment where it’s not on his mind, and now his mysterious pursuer is right behind him. His only option is to protect himself.

Jason very slowly reaches into his pocket for the worn switchblade he’s carried since he was nine. His hand trembles as he wraps his fingers around the cold handle.

A hand is laid on his shoulder. He shoots up, pulling the knife out of his pocket and spinning around to face the person behind him.

Before he’s able to do anything a small, strong hand wraps around his wrist, stopping the freed knife in its path. His arm is yanked forward and a palm is shoved under his chin, forcing his face up. He just stands that way for a second, too shocked to move. His opponent doesn’t try to do anything else; they just keep him stuck with his chin pushed up and his arm stretched out, knife useless.

Slowly, cautiously, the hand under his chin lowers, though the grip on his wrist is still tight. He gets a good look at the person who’s apparently decided to hold him hostage.

They’re a kid. They’re (she’s) a little girl, much shorter than him, with big, serious eyes and a mouth covered by a heavy scarf.

“You’re really small,” he says through the hand that’s still partly covering his mouth. “What the fuck.”

She assesses him, eyes darting from his face to his free hand to his battered shoes. Slowly, she loosens her grip and lets go of his chin, releasing him. She takes a step back, body tense and ready to attack or dart away at any second.

Jason clicks his blade back into its case and slides the knife back into his pocket, not looking away from the girl’s face. She has dirty black hair that hangs in her eyes and thick brows. Her nose is delicate and rounded. If she hadn’t just had him in a painful hold, he would have assumed she was harmless.

“Why have you been following me around?” he asks. She doesn’t answer. “What do you want from me?” Again, no answer. Jason sighs (a puff of mist from his mouth). “I’m Jason.” He holds out his hand. Hesitantly, she grips it. Her hand is cold and thin. She still doesn’t say anything.

The girl lets go of his hand and points to the lighter on the ground. It glints at him in greeting.

“What?” Jason asks.

The girl squats on the ground and retrieves the lighter. She hands it to him and points at the pile of cardboard and newspaper.

“Wanna make a fire?” he asks. “There’s garbage in there, so it’ll stink.”

She doesn’t nod. She just points again expectantly.

“'Kay,” Jason says. “Can you talk at all?”

The girl doesn’t respond. Jason shrugs and crouches by his fire heap. The girl plops back on her bottom and crosses her legs.

It takes a while to get it to light. It’s a little embarrassing failing again and again with someone there to watch. Finally, one of the dryer pieces of paper goes alight and spreads to one of the bigger pieces of cardboard.

“See? It does work!” Jason says. Does he sound defensive? “It usually works fine,” he adds. This doesn’t make him any less embarrassed. He puts the lighter in his pocket with the switchblade and holds his hands out, taking in the heat. The girl pulls down her scarf. In the flickering light, he can see she’s smiling at him. She holds out her hands too, and they sit in silence for some time.

—

Jason realizes he’s awake before his eyes open. He’s aware again that his nose and fingers are cold and the back of his hair is wet from the damp concrete. His eyes flicker open and he sees that it’s daytime, pale gray and foggy. He rolls over, realizing with some consternation that he’s not even in his box hut. Anybody could have come and gotten him while he was asleep. He’s lucky they didn’t. He shouldn’t be so– what.

Someone is a few feet away from him, sitting up with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, looking at him thoughtfully.

Jason scrambles backward, scraping his hands on the rough concrete. He bumps his head on the brick wall behind him. It seems that the bricks knock some sense into him because suddenly the events of last night come back to him and he feels like an idiot.

“What are you doing?” he asks, rubbing his head.

The girl scoots over to him and pats his shoulder. Ah. She’s still not talking. Jason sits up straight. He pats her shoulder back. She smiles.

“So, do you just want to hang around here?” Jason asks, even though he knows she won’t answer. “In this alley?”

The girl just looks at him. This is starting to get frustrating.

“Just– just stay, I guess,” Jason says, standing. He points at the ground. “I’ll be back. I’m gonna go get something to eat.”

He backs out of the alleyway, raising his palms as though he’s trying to calm a wild animal. He turns around when he’s certain that she’s staying. He puts his hands in his pockets and releases a breath of relief. Something about that girl makes him nervous. What’s her game? Is she just stupid? He wraps his fingers around the lighter and somehow feels a little more secure.

Jason settles outside a coffee shop and crosses his legs. Dozens of people walk right past him, ignoring his grubby face as they head to work.

“Hey, miss,” Jason says, making eye contact with a woman in a blue pantsuit. An almost fearful look falls on her face as she realizes she’s been wrangled into an interaction with him. “Got a dollar?”

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I don’t carry change.” She scurries off, nearly slipping in her high heels on the icy sidewalk.

“'Scuse me,” Jason says to the lady with the corgi on a leash. “That’s a cute dog you have there.”

“Thank you,” the lady says apprehensively. She walks a little faster.

“Wait!” Jason says. “Can I pet him?”

“S-sure,” the lady says. She turns and walks the dog up to Jason. It smiles stupidly at him. Jason stretches his hand out and it sniffs him with its wet nose. Jason rubs it between the ears. Even though this is for selfish reasons, he appreciates its attention.

“Can you spare seventy cents?” Jason asks. “For a bottle of water?”

The lady, with nowhere to escape to, reaches into her purse, takes out a dollar, and drops it into Jason’s open hand. Jason thanks her sweetly. When she walks away, he can’t hide his shit-eating grin.

Jason manages to gather up seven dollars before the coffee shop’s manager comes out and says “scram.” Jason smiles appeasingly as he leaves. He knows better than to get in a fight with someone without holes in their shoes.

At the convenience store, Jason buys an energy drink and a hot dog, like usual. Then he remembers someone is waiting for him and adds a plastic-wrapped breakfast sandwich. He’s wondering whether the stupid girl is a coffee person when the cashier starts giving him suspicious looks, so he grabs another Red Bull and pays quickly.

It’s kind of nice shopping for someone else. Even if it’s a little sad to think about the last time he was shopping for two. He whistles quietly as he walks through the glass door when– oops.

“Watch where you’re going!” he snaps.

The girl steps back and smiles apologetically.

“Oh… It’s you.” The door swings shut behind Jason. “I’d ask you to stop following me, but I don’t think you understand what I’m saying.”

The girl tilts her head. Maybe she does understand? Whatever.

He gestures for her to follow him. The convenience store people don’t like it when he hangs out right by the door. It creeps out the customers.

There aren’t as many people on the sidewalk anymore; they’ve all gone on with their days. Jason notices that the girl skips a little on her shorter legs to keep up with him. She isn’t wearing socks, he realizes. That can’t be good in this weather.

They stop to sit on the front steps of the law office. Jason pulls the food out of his plastic grocery bag and hands the sandwich to the girl. She takes it gratefully. He takes out his hot dog and realizes that the jostling while he was walking has deconstructed it. He shrugs.

“I’m guessing you’re new around here,” Jason says. “You’re not supposed to just latch on to people.”

The girl starts tearing greedily into her sandwich.

“I do pretty well on my own. I’m not gonna babysit you, you know.”

She nods. Again, Jason isn’t sure she’s taking in what he’s saying.

“Seriously. You can’t hang out with me. I’m busy.”

She smiles. Jason rolls his eyes.

“I like being alone.”

The sandwich is gone. She points to his hot dog.

“I mean, I guess,” he says, handing it to her. She looks at it for a second. A guilty expression falls on her face and she hands it back. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Cassandra,” she says.

“Wait, you can talk?”

“Jason,” she says, patting his shoulder.

The snow is dirty, but the sun glints off it prettily. Jason hates to admit it, but he’s in a pretty good mood right now.

#batman #dcu #jason todd #cassandra cain #street siblings au #dc #me writing

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pink-imagines · 4 years

Text

bad day

request: Hi. I'm going through a rough patch rn (someone I thought of as a best friend stabbed me in the back) and it's really hard. I was wondering how Bakugou, Kirishima, and Twice (if you write for him) would react to their normally perky s.o. suddenly being to upset to even get out of bed. Thank you so much.

a/n: this is kind of like part 2? anon asked for kirishima and twice too, so i’ll deliver! i decided to put both of them in this one, so scroll down to read twice’s!!

warnings: angst, crying

masterlist

requesting rules

Eijiro Kirishima

With yet another sigh you carefully cleaned the cuts over Eijiro’s body, he had gotten hurt during one of his shifts again. You felt his eyes on you but you refused to look up. “Y/N, I-” “I’m not your nurse, Eiji.”, you stated coldly, “I know that I’m still trying to find a job but that doesn’t mean it gives you the chance to be more reckless.” “I know-” “You need to look after yourself better, your work is dangerous.”, you pressed a bit harder with the cotton pad, making him hiss. “I get it, alright!?”, he snatched his arm away from you, “You don’t need to tell me how to do my job!” Not a single word managed to leave your lips as he walked away. Anger took over your body and you threw away the first aid kit with a haste. You didn’t give a second glance to where he stood in the kitchen, you simply walked into the bedroom and slammed the door behind you. Were you being childish? Maybe so, but you really couldn’t control your emotions. You fell asleep then and there, you didn’t even wait for Eijiro to come back into the room.

When you woke up the next morning he was already gone. The anger you felt the night before was gone, and you were left as an empty shell. After noticing his absense you didn’t feel like getting out of bed, and so you fell back asleep.

Eijiro couldn’t focus on the words in front of him. He was never much of an office worker at all, he’d rather be out doing the hero work, but today was especially hard. Not only had he hurt your feelings last night, buthe didn’t even have time to apologies this morning. He had thought about waking you up but decided against it as he knew you needed your rest. Luckily, today he got to go home at five pm instead of having to work late. Eijiro already had a plan on what to do; he’d bring home your favorite food for dinner, apologies right at the doorstep, and cuddle you for the rest of the night. He knew you were just worried about him and that you weren’t actually mad - even though your words hurt he shouldn’t have reacted that way and he needed to apologies.

The hours went by slowly, but eventually it was time for him to get out to the streets for his last shift before he could go home.

After a while of waking up and drifitng back to sleep again you decided to sit up in your bed. It was around four, you had slept all day instead of looking for jobs like you should have. Eijiro would be home in an hour and you dreaded every minute that passed.

You knew you had done a bad thing last night. Shouting at him for doing his job? You sighed and rubbed your temples lightly to try to get the thoughts of it out of your head. To be fair, this week had been horrible. Five job interviews and none of them had led to anything. You barely got to spend time with Eijiro either, since he worked late, and the one day when he’d come home early you had fought with him. Another sigh escaped your lips, this time shaky and a quiet whimper followed it as you were trying to stop the tears from spilling onto your cheeks. Without as second thought you went back to bed and hid the sobs in your pillow. How had you gotten out of bed before when it was this easy to just stay? Here nothing could happen to you. For a moment you were safe there in your cocoon of blankets.

When he opened the door he wasn’t met by your figure sitting on a chair by the kitchen table, scrolling on your laptop and looking for jobs. You weren’t by the window, having a phone call with a potential employer. You weren’t drinking tea in the kitchen, or doing a face mask in the bathroom, and you hadn’t left a note saying that you were at the gym. He walked around the entire house, which he knew you wouldn’t like since he still had his hero costume on - that didn’t matter, he just had to find you.

Eijiro walked past the bedroom door and heard quiet whimpers coming from there.

The door to the bedroom opened suddenly and you let out a squeak in surprise. However, you didn’t turn around to look at the person barging in. You’d rather keep your puffy eyes and tear-stained face to yourself. “Y/N? Baby?”, Eijiro’s voice was soft, as if it could cause you harm if he raised his voice, “Are you okay, honey?” You felt Eijiro sit down on the bed and put a hand on your shoulder. “I got you some food, okay? It’s from your favorite place, I put it on the kitchen counter.”, he explained softly, “I’ll go take a shower, why don’t you go out and start eating?” “... not hungry...”, your voice was muffled from the pillow and blankets. “... have you already eaten?”, Eijiro asked and you shook your head, “Did you eat earlier today then?” You shook your head no and heard him let out a careful sigh. “Y/N... you know I don’t want to sound rude but... honey, did you get out of bed at all today?”, he asked and you shook your head again, “Y/N...” “It’s fine...”, you croaked out and sat up, still not meeting his eyes, “Go take a shower, Eijiro.” “Baby, I don’t want to leave you like this-” “I’ll go eat, okay? Just... go shower. You know I don’t like it when you walk around with your hero suit on inside...”, you hated how cold you were towards him but for some reason you couldn’t help it. You got out of bed, feeling his eyes on you as you walked toward the kitchen.

When you saw the take away bag on the counter you smiled slightly to yourself. He’d always get you this when he was trying to apologies, usually you didn’t eat junkfood at all. You took out the food and saw the box with your favorite dish written on it. The shower turned on in the bathroom and you assumed he had started showering.

Two strong arms suddenly wrapped around you, making you jump slightly. “The food’s already starting to get cold... we can heat it up later. Come shower with me, okay?”, Eijiro kissed you where your neck met your shoulder. It was hard to not give into this offer... you leaned against his bare chest and waited for him to give ou another kiss. When he did you mumbled out: “Sure.”

Usually when you showered together you’d have a lot more... fun. This time it was very wholesome, if you could call it that. He helped you wash our hair, you helped him wash his hair. No kisses shared, there were barely any glances shared, and there were especially no words said.

Once you were out of the shower you grapped your hair dryer and dried off your hair after wrapping a towel around yourself. You were thankful that Eijiro had made you crawl out of the cave that was your bed, the feeling after a hot shower was one of the best ones out there. Eijiro tapped on your shoulder and then pointed at the hair dryer, begging you with the look in his eyes.

You started drying his hair and he had a satisfied smile on his face as you did so. There was a cut on his arm and you were about to say something until you remembered last night and decided not to mention it. Instead you directed your attention to his hair. “Your roots are starting to show.”, you muttered and looked at the dark hair peaking out from under the red, “Do you need help coloring it again?” “I was thinking of letting it be.”, he admitted, “You said you liked black hair, didn’t you?”, he peered at you with one eye and kept the other closed. “I guess I did...”, you tried to keep yourself from blushing but it was near impossible, “I like your red hair too, though.” “Mhm...”, he hummed, “... we’ll see what I do with it then.”

Once you were done in the bathroom you heated up the food, and while you were waiting he looked at you with a serious face. “Y/N, I’m sorry about yesterday.”, he said and took your hands in his, “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you for worrying.” “I should be saying sorry.”, you gave in and leaned your head against his chest, “I took out my frustration on you... it’s been a bad week.” “... maybe we both did wrong then?”, he suggested and you nodded, “So then let’s just leave it at that and communicate better next time.” “Sounds good to me.” you nodded and gave him a soft smile. “You said you had a bad week, honey?”, he asked as he lifted you up and placed you on the counter. “... it’s just that I haven’t been getting any jobs at all. I went to so many interviews for nothing...”, you sighed and leaned your forehead against his, “... I know I’m not usually like this-” “You don’t have to be happy all the time.”, he interupted, “Nobody is. It’s okay for you to feel shitty sometimes - just talk to me about it, even if it’s hard.” With a small smile you pressed a kiss to his forehead and then jumped off the counter just in time for the food to be ready.

You ate while watching a movie, the two of you cuddled up on the couch. Eijiro stroke your hair back from time to time and sometimes he’d comment something about the movie quietly in your ear - as if someone else was around to hear it.

After eating you tried doing the dishes but he quickly pushed you away and did them for you. “Do you want tea or something before bed?”, Eijiro asked sweetly. “I want you.”, you said and wrapped your arms around him from behind. “I think I can fix that for you.”, he chuckled and turned around in your embrace, “I love you, okay?” His hands went to the sides of your waist, where they slowly rubbed patterns on your skin. Eijiro leaned down and pressed a few pecks on your lips, leading them down to your jaw and then neck. “I love you too.”, you mumbled and brought his lips back up to meet yours again.

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shattersstar · 4 years

Note

can we please get some mandalorian with no. 6? Love me some quiet + mysterious mercenaries u know

the mandalorian + falling in love

warning: semi nsfw (mando f*cks!)

a/n: i got this request..so long ago omg I’m sorry for taking forever i was really excited to get a mando request bc i do be loving him. anyways feedback is always appreciated

You were dozing, back rising and falling, chest pressed into your mattress and blanket tossed over you haphazardly. He’d gotten up, you murmured into your pillow he can shower if he wants, blinding reaching to the end of your bed and pulling your comforter over you with eyes half lidded. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching as sleep fell over your face, visor glinting under the setting sun that peered through the ajar window. He moved to close it before heading to the fresher, remnants of his clothes falling to the ground along with his helmet. He didn’t like looking at himself, avoiding his reflection in the mirror before letting the steady water pressure roll over his tired muscles.

He wanted to put all of his beskar back on—he was exposed like this, on a planet that wasn’t exactly friendly—but you were so soft. He wanted to lay next to you, even if for a moment, without the barrier and the dirt of his beskar staining your skin. Only bruises from his crushing grip should be the marks left on you, ones he knew you’d trace over absentmindedly when he’d have to leave again for weeks again, missing the light sting that made your muscles tense when you poke and prod them, awaiting your Mandalorian to return and leave more of those precious marks.

So he left his Mandalorian steel where it was carefully gathered in your room, you always removed it with such care, a lot more nimble after a dozen or so times. It was muscle memory at this point, and something about that made his chest tighten. You had barely moved from where you fell asleep, only shifting closer to the wall your bed was against, silently inviting him to come back. If he hadn’t, if he chose to barricade himself in again, you wouldn’t have said anything—you never do. The mattress dipped under his weight as he stayed sitting for a moment, you let out a long breath, before turning your head in his direction, eyes closed as you subtly shifted closer to him. He was always so warm, you could feel it when your fingers dug into his biceps, even with his tunic on, or when you buried your head as close as you could against his neck, taking in his scent that rolled over your skin in hot waves when he pushed himself between your hips, hands gripping and seeking, barren just for you.

He kept his gloves off, even now, hands resting on his thighs as he let his shoulders drop with a heavy sigh. “What’s wrong?” You slurred, half asleep, palm digging into your eyes as you propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes heavy as you looked up at him. He said nothing, gaze choosing to sweep over your body, your blanket shifted down your bare back, pooling at your waist and your equally bare legs slid out from underneath the fabric as you stretched, waking yourself up a little more. “Your sigh was different.” You continued, shuffling closer to him, forehead pressing into his side. He still hadn’t laid down yet, sitting with his back to you, only minimally turned when you first spoke.

“My sigh?” He wondered, voice glinting with amusement. You closed your eyes and pictured his grin—it must be beautiful.

“Yes, your sigh. You sound stressed, not your usual ‘I’m just breathing loudly for the sake of breathing loudly’ kinda sigh.” You teased, moving back to your pillow and dragging your blanket over your properly as you rolled onto your back.

“I can’t stay as long.” He explained, missing the warmth of you pressing against him.

“That’s fine.” You shrugged, a hand snaking around his forearm and slowly urging him to lay down. He complied with ease—stars you had him wrapped around your finger—a mix of a laugh and a scoff falling from behind his filter as you snuggled up against him the moment he relaxed into your mattress. Your head resting on his chest, naked leg tossed over his thighs as you hugged an arm across his stomach. He barely had time to react, not surprised with your antics, you did this often, yet still a little unsure of himself. No one treated him like he was soft, someone to hold and cuddle, and whisper random stories, and sing songs around in the haze of the night. But now you were quiet, letting the last words you spoke hang in the air as the Mandalorian ran them through his head over and over again like his voice that tumbled through his modulator.

He knew you meant that it was fine, you would be fine, that this whole situation was just fine, but the more he thought about it, the more it became like his voice. Different, harsher, darker even once it finally worked it was through his throat out his mouth and through the high pass filter. It made his jaw tighten because it wasn't fine to him. He was tired of sweeping you up for a moment and dropping you back down because a quarry was calling or the ship needed maintenance or whatever. Something always pulled him from your arms and lately, it was getting harder to leave. And he knew you noticed, you had to last time when he couldn’t go another day longer without tasting you. When it had been over a month since you last saw him and he showed up, barely any words spoken as he tied a fragment of an old cloak over your eyes and kissed you so hard you thought he might break your nose. He stayed like that for what felt like hours, holding your face and your jaw and your neck, tongue licking its way into your mouth, exploring it. His teeth bit into your skin and muttered unfiltered words against your ears and his lips always find their way back to yours.

You were nearly out of breath that whole day, lips kiss swollen and mind delirious with him. You hadn’t known what had gotten into him, what changed and made him so desperate for you, but you tried to give him what you could. Kissed him even when your jaw ached, quietly asked to touch his face, fingers skimming blindly over the untouched skin, both of you nearly jolting when your fingers ran through his hair, giving the thick locks a light tug that had him damn near growling. You had decided in that moment if he ever took his helmet off again, you’d never let your fingers leave his hair. The memory made you smile against him, in a longing sort of way. The memory of that day played through your mind like a dream, the thrum of his steady heart beat the calming soundtrack to the heated moments shared with his mouth all over you.

Despite the way your mind flitted through the memories, you were nearly asleep again, also acutely aware he’d be pulling away from your embrace and leaving sooner than you hoped. And it was fine to you, sure it stung, especially when he kept his helmet on this time, not that you’d even have the courage to ask him to take it off, to kiss you again despite how badly you wanted too. But you knew this was his way of life, his religion, his people, his everything as you were fine with being a sliver in what made up the Mandalorian, even if it was easy to wish you were more. Especially pressed up against him, unafraid of him, at your most vulnerable and still ready to give him more. You’d save those wishes for your dreams and just be present for him because that’s all you could do.

So, when the next words that left his mouth hit your ears, you were sure it was a dream.

“Come with me.” He stated, he didn’t ask, he didn’t plead or beg or suggest. He told you and it had your eyes flying open as you shifted to look up at him.

“What?” You blinked, throat suddenly a lot dryer then you had cared to realize.

His ungloved hand came to your jaw as he repeated his statement, “Come with me.”

“Like—permanently?” You asked dumbly, a little taken by the brazen words he had said, twice.

“Until you want to leave.” He answered pragmatically, yet something in your mind clung to the notion that his answer inadvertently meant he didn’t want you too—wouldn’t ask you to leave. The sentiment played through your mind now, the jumble of thoughts, processing slowly left you staring at him. You stayed quiet for long and he had come to regret his words—maybe he mistook what he thought you felt for him as something more, a facade you put up when he’d show up at your door and let his body meld so easily to yours. As you stared so blankly at him, chest rising and falling unevenly he mentally cursed himself, wanting to take his words back—a rare occurrence for a man of such few words already—and let you doze in his embrace until he'd have to go. He let out another breath, an audible one and opened his mouth to refute his statement when your eyes brimmed with tears, another reaction he was not expecting.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, tears threatening to pool and slip over at any moment. He nodded instead of speaking, nervous that his voice wouldn’t be able to hold steady as he tried to read you, tried to understand what mess of emotions swirled through you right now. He let his thumb sweep over your cheekbone, trying to sooth you in the small way his touch could. “And how will it work?” This time, a nod wouldn’t do.

“You can stay in the cockpit when I bring in bounties—I’ll carbonite them right away, and I can give you a blaster if you want.”

“And?”

“And if it's safe, you can visit the planet's surface with me. You’re not coming when I collect quarries though and you’re not allowed off the ship when I go to Nevarro.” You were sure this was the most he had ever said to you, maybe except when he was close to cumming, muttering anything and everything he wanted to you. Sometimes you assumed it was more than he meant, but you’d never bring it up, never make him regret or stop rambling those little secrets for your ears. “I can bring you back here whenever you want too.” He added, pulling you back to reality as your thoughts wandered to more lustful places.

“And?” The tears that threatened your eyes now subsided, the joy and confusion of it all settling in your bones as you looked at him with that desire that stole your thoughts–that still hung in your mind.

“And I‘ll get to fuck you whenever you want.” You were once again sure he was grinning under that helmet of his, the anxiety that crept up his throat only moments ago was gone as you let out a breathy chuckle and a smile fell over your face. You knew this meant something deeper, that you weren’t just being brought along to have sex with him more regularly instead of every few weeks—every few months even—but that didn’t matter now.

You’d figure all that out when you had to, because all you could focus on was nodding at his offer, breathing out a, “Yes, of course I’ll come with you.” And laying your head back down against him, this time the Mandalorian’s hand came to rest on your back, fingers tracing nonsensical patterns as a wave of calm washed over you both. And the two of you were aware about the storm brewing on the horizon, the mess of packing you up and saying goodbye to the only place you’d known as well as the emotions that he had been trying to hide, to ignore for the last months of this relationship coming to surface. But something about ignoring them, leaving you this time would’ve felt too suffocating, making something deep break in his chest, and neither of you knew what this change meant, it was easy to speculate, but as you were too giddy to rest now, holding him close and taking the moment in, the Mandalorian was distantly aware that this right here, in this moment was what his parents called love.

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #din dijarin x reader #din dijarin imagine #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #sw #writing #ask

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pitaparka · 4 years

Note

“I desperately need a haircut. Will you try to cut it for me? Please?” w billy

summary: billy’s hair gets a little too long for his liking. you decide to take it into your own hands. literally.

pairing: billy russo x reader

word count: 1.8k

a/n: that billy gif does somethin’ to me man...

Billy had been wearing a hat every day for a week. In the house. Not going anywhere.

It was driving you insane.

"Take that stupid thing off, Billy," you’d say to him. His hair had been abnormally soft since he hadn’t been gelling it for work lately, not that you could see it. It was a stupid thing to get mad about, but tensions had been running high in your apartment. After Billy moved in, it had been much easier to spend time with him, and you were grateful for that. But during this quarantine, you both had been a little on edge.

“It looks like shit. I need a haircut,” he’d say, running his fingers through it in front of the mirror in the morning. He still woke up at an ungodly hour for some reason. It’s not like he had to. All of his meetings happened after nine o’clock in the morning, but the smell of a fresh pot of coffee brewing wasn’t the worst thing in the world to wake up to. Either way, the hair thing was stressing him out.

“It’s embarrassing,” he said, grumbling in bed after a long day of zoom calls and meetings on the phone. It was incredibly inconvenient to be running a company during this time. Especially because the people he was in charge of did most of their work in person, manually laboring away on a typical schedule. Billy had been trying to work that out over the phone, face to face with his higher-ups who were also confined to their houses.

“Just cut it yourself, Billy,” you say, sitting at your desk, typing away at an assignment that was due later on in the week. You sigh and sit back in your chair, leaning back to recline your feet on your desk and put your hands behind your head.

“I don’t know how. I’ve never had to before. I’d fuck it up,” he says, running his hands over his face and letting out a loud yawn.

“There are videos online?” you suggest. Billy’s ears perk up.

“I think I have clippers somewhere…” he muses. He sighs.

“I desperately need a haircut,” he says, pulling a lock of hair down over his face. He goes almost cross-eyed to look at it, and it comes down to about the tip of his nose.

“I know, Billy. You complaining about it isn’t going to make your hair shorter,” you clarify, and he huffs in frustration.

“Have you ever cut hair?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow to take a good look at you. It was easy to see you in the soft light of the lamp on your desk. You let out a little laugh.

“No… Actually, yes, once. I think I was like five? My mom was not happy. I gave myself bangs.” You laugh at the story, but that’s only what you had been told. It’s not like you knew the first thing about cutting hair.

“Come on, I’m serious. Will you try to cut it for me? Please?” he asks, and you check your clock.

“Right now?” you ask, and you rub your arms softly.

“I have stuff that’s due,” you say to him. He just looks at you in response.

“You could do it tomorrow if you want,” he finally says, and you close your laptop.

“No, let’s just… let's get it done tonight. I don’t want you complaining if I give you a bad haircut though,” you say, planting your feet on the ground.

“I don’t want a whole cut, just a trim. Let me go find the clippers,” he says, getting out of bed. You resist the urge to slap his ass as he walks past you.

“You don’t get to be picky, Russo,” you mutter after he leaves the door slightly ajar behind him. You take the opportunity to look up some articles and videos about cutting hair.

Billy’s setup includes one chair he got from the dining room, an old towel from the closet, and his face trimmer from under the bathroom sink.

“Okay, do you know how he cuts it? Does he just hold it like this or does he like… run a comb through it?” you stand behind him like his barber would to demonstrate, holding sections of his hair.

“I don’t know, he just, cuts it…” Billy says, adjusting the towel around his shoulder.

“Wow Billy, that’s… such a wealth of information you just gave me.”

“I don’t have eyes on the back of my head! How am I supposed to know—”

“Okay, so you’re gonna get what you’re gonna get and you’re gonna be happy, okay?” you say, and you hear him chuckle and mutter, “Oh god…”

“I can’t blend the hairline with the clippers we have,” you say after he explains the settings. You clip his hair back to see the lines the barber left behind from his last cut. It hasn’t been so long that they’ve faded too much.

“That’s okay. We can do just, high and tight on the sides. No fades.”

“You can’t move.” You clarify, and he plays with the trimmer before handing it to you.

“I know. Thank you for doing this for me by the way,” he says. He can’t see himself in the mirror, so he just has to trust you.

“Mhmm,” you agree absentmindedly as you focus, bringing the trimmer to the back of his head. You go over one spot repeatedly, but the hair doesn’t look like it’s getting any shorter.

“What do you see back there?” Billy asks, obviously scared you’re going to make him bald.

“It’s like, barely even cutting anything,” you say. You pull the clippers away from his head. He shifts in his seat.

“Uh oh. Let me feel it?” He asks and touches the hair there.

“Nope,” he agrees and gets up from his chair. He looks at the attachments and fiddles with the trimmer for a bit before he figures out the attachments were wrong, and the one you were supposed to be using was on the counter, not on the buzzer.

You turn it on and put it back to his head, and it seems to work better.

“Is that any better?” Billy asks, almost reading your mind.

“Yeah, I think so,” you respond, taking slow, precise movements through his hair. You can feel the hair gather in little piles around your feet. You find yourself in a groove and it becomes a lot less scary when you’re not worried about having him end up with some god awful buzz cut. You hold his head steady, one hand cupping the side of his face.

“It looks, chunky,” you complain, and you can feel his face scrunch up a little bit.

“I don’t know if that’s what I want to hear,” he says, tilting his head back more when you press your fingers into his jaw and guide him slowly.

But after a little while, it all starts to come together and looks much more even. You turn off the trimmer and admire your work, which is pretty darn good if you do say so yourself.

Getting up from the chair, Billy admires himself closely in the mirror. He runs his fingers over the newly buzzed sides of his head.

“I mean, up close you can tell it’s not faded, but it looks like I got a fresh cut,” he says, sitting back down. You can’t help but feel a little pride over it.

“I can clean up the sides without the guard on, like the ears and stuff,” you say.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he says, taking off the blade guard from the clippers.

He puts the trimmer back at your hand and now the metal gleams intimidatingly at you. It’s oddly intimate for the two of you. Something about having the blade so dangerously close to his skin was personal. Just the persistent buzz of the clippers and the stories coming from Billy about bad barbers. You can feel the goosebumps on his skin as you clean up the hair on the back of his neck. Then came the lines around his ears on both sides.

As you finished up, you offered him a mirror to see the back of it.

“If you want, I can round the edges a little more,” you offer.

“No, this is perfect. It looks great back there,” he says, moving the mirror from side to side, examining the back of his head.

“Okay, I think we’re done!” he says, and you correct him.

“With the clippers.”

“Yes, with the clippers.” he agrees.

You wet his hair with a spray bottle newly filled with water you had retrieved from the closet, and with the smallest scissors you could find you take off little sections of hair from the top of his head. The reaction from Billy is physical, his shoulders standing a little taller, a little more confident in his new look. Some pieces of hair still cling to his t-shirt and shoulders, making him scratch at his neck.

“Hop in the shower quick and then I’ll blow dry it before you get into bed,” you tell him, and he listens, but not before he rudely kisses you, hands cupping the side of your face.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, before stripping off his clothes before he even turned the shower on. You leave the bathroom, face hot as you hear him turn it on. Maybe another day, you’d join him.

He comes out smelling good and looking fresh.

He pokes his head into the bedroom, his hair dripping wet onto the floor, with the need to tell you that he was done, not that you couldn’t hear the shower turn off all by yourself.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he says smiling, and there’s something childishly innocent about him getting excited about you blow-drying his hair.

The loud blow dryer made for little conversation to be had, but you were both fine with that. The heat on Billy’s skin made him tired, especially after the hot shower he had just taken. When his hair was sufficiently dry and you put away all of the tools from the night’s impromptu hair cutting session, Billy came up from behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, placing his head on your shoulder. You watched him in the mirror.

“Thank you for this. It feels so much better,” he says, planting a kiss to your shoulder. The one he plants gently on your neck makes you smile. You wrap your arms around him, holding them there, around your body.

“I didn’t mind,” you clarify, “I like how it came out.”

“Now I don’t feel like I have to wear that fuckin’ hat everywhere,” he says, and pulls away, making his way down the hall to the bedroom.

“Oh thank god,” you whisper under your breath, and follow him.

In bed, you stroke Billy’s newly cut hair. Under your fingers, he pulls you just a little bit closer to him, chest to chest under the warmth of your blankets. The darkness of the night filled the room, the only light streaming in from your window was that of the moon and the stars. You smile, but Billy is already fast asleep.

It really had gotten softer.

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p-artsypants · 4 years

Text

Longest Night (40) Homecoming

This chapter is dedicated to my irl friend Kris, who found this story on his own and then told me he was reading it, which completely freaked my bean.

Re-reading this story, I remembered thinking about having Tom and Sabine be stress bakers. It was more of a comedy point. But now knowing there are flour outages because of so many people stress baking during quarantine, I think it’s very in character.

Ao3 | FF.net

—

“Oh look at that! Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful, Adrien.” Dr. Boucher praised. “I love bloody skin grafts.”

Adrien was on his stomach, but propped up with pillows to keep the weight off of his chest. The bandages on his back were coming off permanently today.

And they would be going home.

Well, to the Agreste mansion at least.

Until things calmed down more, and the new security system was installed at the bakery.

“No sign of infection, no blackening of any skin. This is just what I hoped to see.”

“It still looks awful,” said Gabriel, mercilessly.

“Well, of course it does. And the stitches make it look even worse. But take a look at this!” The doctor pressed a finger against the skin graft for a moment and then pulled away. There was a white spot where he pressed, before it turned pink again. “You see? He’s got a nice blood flow. That means my biggest worries with him are mostly over.”

He took off more bandages lower down, revealing his buttocks and thighs. “However, the graft came from the groin area. The donor site is looking good too, but the skin is still raw and tender. Walking will be painful for a few weeks still.” Carefully, he rolled Adrien’s thigh to reveal the yellowish gauze on the inside of his legs. It just looked like a really bad rug burn underneath.

“Sitting might also be unpleasant, given the stretching to the stitches from your lower back to your calves. If you are able to prop up your legs, that should help.”

Adrien grunted in confirmation.

“Loose underwear and pants. The more breathable the better. You may shower, but nothing is to be submerged in water. If the xeroform gauze gets wet, blot it dry gently, and use a hair dryer at the lowest setting. You might have to do that a few times a day. As the skin heals, the xeroform will pull off. Just trim it off with scissors. It should be about another two weeks before it pulls all the way off. Your arm stays in the sling for two more weeks, but you can use it as need be. Just be careful. Continue to clean your ears with saline until all of the piercings are healed, then you can take out the earrings. Take all medicine as prescribed, when designated. I’ve included all this information in your care packet.”

“Thank you,” said Gabriel.

The doctor smiled and turned to the other side of the room. “And how is Marinette feeling today?”

“She’s a little sleepy today,” provided Tom.

Marinette laid on her side, away from Adrien. She didn’t acknowledge the doctor.

“Not excited about getting to go home in time for Christmas, sweetheart?”

“I’m ecstatic.” She said dully.

“I can tell,” Dr. Boucher chuckled. “Did you hear what I told Adrien?”

“Hmm-mm.”

“Showers are fine, but don’t submerge any wounds. Mr. Agreste said that your shower has been fitted with a bench so won’t risk standing in water.”

“Cool.”

“Take all medicine as prescribed and when designated.”

“Got it.”

“Would you please look me in the eye and say that again?”

Marinette turned to face him, and said calmly. “Yes Dr. Boucher, I will take my medicine exactly as prescribed and at the right times.”

“Excellent.” The man smiled. “I’m not trying to patronize you, I just wanted you to remember.”

“I know.”

“Good. Now, if anything happens after you leave, you trip and fall, some other symptom pops up, etc. call me, and I’ll come right over. No need to tough things out. We want a nice, smooth recovery.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Alright! Let’s get you dressed and checked out!”

—

Tom, Gabriel, and the Gorilla accompanied them down to the lobby. Sabine has stayed back at the mansion, preparing for their return. Marinette and Adrien were both put in wheelchairs, as they were both still too weak to make the trip.

As soon as they got off the elevator, applause began as staff and patients alike lined the hall and cheered them on.

Marinette sunk farther into her chair. “Why are they all here?” She asked her father.

“Because they love you, and they’re happy to see that you’re alright.”

“How could they love me?”

“Darling, you’re Ladybug.”

“That doesn’t make up for what happened. Just one unforgivable deed can ruin the public’s opinion of a person. Why would I get any special treatment?”

Tom sighed. “You’ll understand eventually.”

Eventually, they ended up at check out. Marinette paid little attention to what was being said. They talked billing and insurance, future appointments for suture removal and check ups. Boring stuff.

Adrien was by her side, about a foot away, and he rested his arm out, palm up for her to take.

She pretended not to see it.

Then soon enough, they were moving again, the Gorilla hurrying on ahead to pull up the car.

“Adrien should sit in the front,” said Marinette. “So he has more leg room.”

Adrien whined in protest, but Gabriel ignored him. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Before they even went outside, however, they could already hear the crowd waiting for them.

“Shit,” Gabriel muttered under his breath. “The media has been patrolling the entrance, but it looks like someone found out today was discharge day.”

“Don’t these people have anything better to do? Tomorrow is Christmas Eve for crying out loud.” Grumbled Tom.

Marinette pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up, and pulled the cords taut. Adrien noticed, and mimicked the action. The police stood nearby, ready to keep back the crowds.

The cold December air burst over them in a flurry, blowing right through them, as the voices shouted and cried out for attention. Mostly demanding and questioning, but some with anger.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Will you ever get back to superhero work?”

“Is it true that you’re both married officially?”

“Will you be passing on the Miraculous?!”

“Adrien, over here!”

“Murderers!”

“Have you heard anything from Hawkmoth?”

“Are you in league with Hawkmoth now?”

“Monsters!”

Marinette kept her head down as her father helped her into the car. She was placed in the middle seat, as Gabriel sat on her left. The Gorilla helped Adrien into the front, and placed the wheelchairs in the trunk.

Like the red sea, the reporters parted from the front of the car, but didn’t relent in their questions.

“How bad are your injuries?”

“Where are the other Miraculous users?”

“How could you betray us!?”

“What are you going to do with the money from the concert?”

The moment everyone was buckled and settled, the Gorilla peeled out of the drive and sped away to the mansion.

“Jesus Christ. I didn’t think it’d be that bad.”

“Must be a slow news day everywhere else.”

Tom pulled Marinette against him. “It’s okay, Marinette. It won’t take long before this all calms down.”

“Yeah, like in a few decades.” She muttered.

The ride was mostly silent, as Tom tried to introduce small talk. But between two people that didn’t talk, and two people not willing to talk, it was more awkward than not.

Soon they reached the mansion, and even more media awaited them.

Marinette covered her ears to ignore it.

The Gorilla pulled right up to the steps, the gate locking the unwanted guests out.

“I want to walk up the steps on my own.” Marinette demanded.

“Alright, I’ll be right there to catch you,” said her father, helping her out.

The Gorilla lifted Adrien out of his seat, and carried him up the stairs.

Each step hurt, despite having shoes and socks on. She leaned on the rail, while her father’s hand steadied her back. It was slow, but she was doing it on her own.

The doors to the mansion opened, and immediately they were warmed. Not just by the heat, but by the lights, the glitter, and bright colors.

Now it felt like Christmas. Garland strung across the banisters, little hints of Christmas scattered over end tables and furniture, and a tree, bare and surrounded by boxes of decorations.

It felt like a home.

Marinette let out a little hum at the sight. Her parents must have run home to collect their own decorations to make it feel like their home.

“Pretty,” she said with a little smile.

“Oh I’m so glad you like it!” Alya stood from where she was checking lights. “I had no idea if you were going to be up for Christmas, but I figured you wouldn’t at least mind the decorations.”

“Looks very nice,” she stated again. “I’ll enjoy it more in a bit. I really just want to take a shower.”

“Fair enough!”

Adrien whined.

“Stay down here,” she demanded, without looking at him. “It doesn’t make any sense for you to wait for me upstairs when I’m coming right back down.”

He whined again, but it sounded more like he was relenting.

The Gorilla deposited him gently on a chair near the tree as Marinette once again, independently climbed the stairs.

Alya rested a hand on Adrien’s knee. “What do you think, Sunshine? Festive enough?”

He shrugged.

“Eh,” Nino winced. “Adrien’s not really...big on Christmas.”

“My wife is obsessed with Christmas,” explained Gabriel. “Since she...disappeared, it’s been hard. A lot of memories.”

Adrien shifted uncomfortably.

“Then we’ll all make some new ones together.” Said Sabine, resting a hand on his head. “Then we’ll honor the ones you have, and it might not sting as much.”

Adrien didn’t look thrilled at the idea, but he was hard to read. He shuffled his feet, and pulled at the legs of his pants.

He didn’t really seem to be listening.

So they let him be, and got back to decorating.

—

When Marinette reached Adrien’s room, she sauntered over to the bed and sat down on the mattress.

“Great job!” Praised Tikki. “That was a lot of stairs! And you did it all by yourself!”

“Stupid thing to be happy about,” she frowned. “I’m strong enough, my feet just hurt.”

“You’ve got to celebrate the little things.” Tikki flitted over to Marinette’s suitcase behind the couch. “Otherwise you’ll get discouraged.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Tikki wasn’t bothered by the reaction, and only picked out some clothes and moved them into the bathroom.

Adrien’s room had also been decorated for Christmas. There was a garland stretched across the railing to the second story. Another undecorated Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room by the windows. The bed was made, with fresh sheets and a festive blanket on the foot of the mattress. By the pillows sat the little Ladybug and Chat Noir plushies.

Marinette grit her teeth as she leaned forward to untie her shoes. It wasn’t enough to pull her stitches on her back, but it did sting.

“Do you need help?” Tikki asked after watching her struggle.

“No.” She finished untying her laces, and then started to pull them off.

The worst of the cuts on her feet were on the ball of her foot, right by her big toe, and it hurt the whole time she slid out of her shoe.

She still had to take her socks off, but she was exhausted.

Tikki seemed to pick up on it and pulled her socks off for her, pulling gently to not catch on the stitches.

“Thank you, Tikki.”

“Of course Marinette. Please don’t feel ashamed to ask for help. I want you to get better.”

Marinette didn’t argue, but she didn’t agree. Slowly, she stood and sauntered her way to the bathroom.

The tile was cool on the irritated skin. She shucked off her sweatpants and sweatshirt, then her shirt and underwear.

Then she sat on the toilet, feeling tired again before she could reach the shower.

“Here’s your hairbrush.” Tikki added, dropping it on the counter.

“Thanks.”

“Would you like me to stay in here? Or wait outside?”

“Wait outside.” Then as an afterthought, she added, “please.”

“I understand. You want your privacy. Well, if you need me, I’ll be out in Adrien’s room.” And she shut the door behind her.

Gathering her strength, Marinette sauntered over to the shower and turned it on. It didn’t take long at all for it to warm up, and she slid onto the bench, sitting sideways in the stream of water.

Words couldn’t describe the comfort clean, warm water gave her as it rushed over her body. She scrubbed the shampoo into her hair and let the suds slide down her skin. The luxurious fragrance of expensive soap filled her nostrils, hiding the stench of infection and body odor. The dirt and grime that had persisted even after the sponge baths, were disappearing down the drain, leaving nothing but smooth, clean skin.

She used a washcloth to scrub at the bloodstains, rubbing her skin raw. Maybe if she rubbed hard enough, she could wash all the bad memories away. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

After her hair was shampooed and conditioned, and her skin was raw from her frantic scrubbing, she just sat on the bench, letting the water beat on her. Clear her head of thoughts, good and bad.

And just exist.

Like that night in the rain.

She had leaned on Chat’s—Grimalkin’s chest then. He wrapped his arm around her, and kissed her forehead tenderly, like they hadn’t just murdered 14 people.

A moment in the rain with Adrien.

How different things had become.

Before, she loved the rain. It reminded her of falling in love. Of misunderstandings turned to forgiveness, and friendships starting in the most sincere and innocent of ways. But now the rain tasted bitter. It was cold on her skin and made her hair hang flat to her head.

There was no umbrella, no laughter, no fireworks.

And even the boy she shared the moment with became a blur.

When living your last moments, it’s easy to say ‘I love you’. There’s no fear, no considering, no sorting out your feelings. Just the desire for comfort and to lean on someone, and to let your feelings known without regrets.

She loved Adrien, she knew that in her head. And she had moments with Chat Noir where her heart would beat faster and she’d feel at home.

But the twisted version of her boy was so foreign to her. They had both come out of torture as different people, that was obvious. But the month she was separated from him, something changed in his mind. It cracked. Or maybe it was the flogging, or even the akumatization.

Somewhere, the sunshine goofball she treasured was swallowed, and a blank slate was left behind.

Adrien and Chat Noir still never melded together for her. They hadn’t gotten to develop that gap organically. It was just a constant fight for their lives with no development.

It was her and him together, and that’s all it was. All it needed to be.

So what was different now? Why was everything so complicated?

Finally, she turned the water to cold, letting herself be pelted to numbness before she turned it off completely.

She stood, stepping out of the shower to get a towel.

But the marble floor was slick and her feet flew out from under her. She immediately fell on the ground, landing hard on her back and bumping her head on the lip of the shower.

It wasn’t enough to knock her out, but it did send searing pain up through the wounds in her back.

Honestly, it would have hurt even if she didn’t just get out of the hospital.

She didn’t cry out in pain though. She took the impact with as much grace as she could, only a rough grunt coming from her lips.

Now to get up.

She could do that, right? She just needed to sit up.

Sit up.

Sit.

Oh she was exhausted. Her head throbbed as she fought off nausea.

“Tikki?” She called weakly.

“Did you call me, Marinette?” Tikki asked from outside.

“Yeah...I...I fell. And I can’t...I can’t get up.”

Tikki was silent on the other side. Marinette hoped she had rushed to get help, and hadn’t shrugged her off.

Just a few minutes.

Just a few…

—

Tikki swooped into the main room where everyone was still decorating. “Marinette fell!” She cried.

Immediately, everyone abandoned their decorations and raced up the stairs, leaving Adrien alone on the couch.

Tom, Sabine, and Alya burst into the bathroom, while Nino and Gabriel waited just outside, giving her privacy, but also waiting to help where they could.

Marinette looked up at the sudden entrance. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Oh baby...” Sabine cooed, bending over her. “What hurts? Where did you land?”

“I landed on my back, and I bumped my head.”

“I’ll get an ice pack!” Gabriel called before leaving the room.

“Do we need to call the doctor?” Asked Tom.

“No, no don’t. I just...need some help getting up. I’m...weaker than I thought.”

“How’s your spine? Does anything feel wrong?”

“No, just my stitches.”

“Okay, I just didn’t want to move you if you hurt your spine.” Tom took hold of her arm and pulled her up to sit. Then he scooped her up and moved her to sit on the toilet.

Alya draped a towel over her legs.

Sabine scooted behind her, touching her back. “I’m not seeing any bleeding, so I don’t think you tore anything.”

“Girl, talk to us.” Alya demanded. “I see tears. What hurts?”

“It all hurts,” she confessed with a whisper. “But I feel so stupid for falling...”

Sabine took her hairbrush and started to comb out her hair. “Darling, no. You don’t need to worry about that. Accidents happen.”

“Dr. Boucher told me to be careful. But I just wanted to shower on my own...”

“Marinette,” her mother squeezed her hand. “We do not fault you for wanting to be independent or wanting privacy. You deserve it, you have the right to ask for it. This was simply an accident, and it’s not as bad as it could be.”

“I’ll call the doctor,” said Tom. “I don’t think he needs to come, but it would be smart to get his recommendation.”

“Sorry...”

“No apologies necessary, honey.” Tom kissed her temple, and left the room.

“Let’s get you dressed, Hmm?”

“Yeah.”

Only a few minutes later, Marinette emerged from the bathroom, clean and dry, dressed in fresh clothes. Sabine helped her to sit on the bed.

Gabriel handed her a bag of frozen peas for her head, and Nino gave her a glass of water with some ibuprofen.

“Dr. Boucher says he’s not too worried about it since she’s not bleeding or unconscious. He said there might be some extra soreness, but to call again if something feels sprained.”

“I’m sorry...” Marinette looked down to her toes.

“Really girl, stop apologizing.” Alya chastised. “We felt so helpless for so long, please let us help you now.”

Marinette looked up to her shyly, and prepared to answer, but before she could, a low whine came from the door.

Everyone collectively turned to look, only to find Adrien sitting at the door frame.

“Adrien? How did you get up here?” Gabriel asked, dreading the answer.

Adrien leaned forward to his hands and knees and started to shuffle slowly into the room.

“Nope!” Tom rushed to him and lifted him off the floor. He carried him over to the couch and set him down.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Gabriel reprimanded. “Why didn’t you just stay downstairs?”

Adrien flinched, curling up on himself at the shout.

Tom petted his head. “I’m sorry we left you down there alone. We won’t do it again.”

As soon as Adrien was on the couch, he was twisting to turn around to look at Marinette. He whined again.

Marinette didn’t look at him.

“She’s alright,” Sabine cooed. “Just bumped her head.”

His eyes never left her, as he just stared with an unreadable expression.

“Did you want to take a shower too, dude?” Asked Nino.

But Adrien didn’t answer. It didn’t seem like he had heard him.

“Adrien,” Gabriel stepped right in front of him and caught his eyes. “Do you want to take a shower?”

Adrien tried to look around him, back at Marinette, but she wasn’t looking at him. Not cuing him, not saying anything to him.

He didn’t know what to do.

“Adrien.” Gabriel pressed a little firmer. “Yes or no?”

Why was a simple yes or no so hard? He didn’t know! He didn’t know!

The decision was taken away as Tom scooped him up. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Maybe you’ll feel better afterwards.”

As he was being taken away, he kept twisting to get a peek at Marinette.

She never met his eyes.

Once he was in the bathroom, Sabine helped Marinette over to the couch. “Here dear, just relax. We’ll put a movie on for you both, and we’ll decorate the tree! Won’t that be nice?”

“Hm.” She hummed noncommittally.

“You know, you have a lot of people that want to see you. So for Christmas Eve tomorrow, we’re thinking about having a big dinner. With the Cesaire’s, and Grandma and Grandpa, Chloe, and Jagged Stone and Penny! Won’t that be fun?”

“Yeah.” She said flatly.

“If you’d rather not, they’d completely understand.”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I can call it off too. No pressure sweetie.”

“Yeah, mom I said it’s fine!” She barked, “If I didn’t want to see them, I would have said no!”

“Okay,” Sabine said patiently. “I just want you to be in control, but I also want you to have fun.”

Marinette sighed. Then she leaned over the back of the couch and looked in her bag. Not finding what she was looking for, she asked, more politely, “maman? Did you pack my favorite blanket? The gray and red plaid one?”

“I packed your bag,” Alya clarified. “And no, I didn’t. Sorry girl. I can go grab it for you, though! Anything else you want me to get?”

“Can you also grab my cat pillow?”

“Sure thing!”

“Wait a second, Alya, have Tom go with you.”

Marinette waited, sitting on the couch and looking out to the city. It was a gray, bleak sky, and even the buildings looked desaturated. While the twinkling of the lights in her peripheral vision showed a warm environment, the landscape in front of her reminded her of just how cold and unforgiving the world was. And how cold it would continue to be in the coming weeks. Perhaps even for the rest of her life.

Alya plopped down on the couch next to her. “So what do you want to watch? Hallmark’s got some really great ones this year. And by great, I mean terrible. We can play your favorite game: car accident or cancer?”

“I don’t want to watch a Hallmark movie. Too fake. Too predictable.”

“Alright, you want a classic one then? Something you’ve seen a hundred times before?”

“Yeah…yeah I think that’s what I want.”

“Okay.” Alya dashed up to Adrien’s movie collection. “God, he’s got like every movie ever made up here! Umm…oh, this will work!” She grabbed the case and rushed down the stairs. “I know you like this one!” And she popped it in the player.

A black and white film. A sleepy scenic town, covered in a layer of fresh snow. The voices of various people called up to prayer.

And then a sea of stars, where two stars flickered in conversation.

It’s a Wonderful Life.

It wasn’t Christmas without it. She’d seen it a hundred times, her heart hurting until the end.

It was hitting differently this year.

Eventually, Adrien was brought out, fresh and clean. His hair damp and combed back. With Tom holding his hand, he tottered his way to the couch to sit next to Marinette.

“Tom?” Asked Sabine, “Alya was going to run to the bakery to get some stuff for Marinette. Will you go with her?”

“Of course!”

“Would you like to take the car?” Asked Gabriel.

“No, I think a walk will do just fine.”

“Buffalo Gals can't you come out tonight. Can't you come out tonight. Can't you come out tonight. Buffalo Gals can't you come out tonight and dance by the light of the moon.”

Marinette had noticed when Adrien sat next to her. He still sat just out of reach. One scoot and she’d be pressed against him.

But she didn’t move. And neither did he.

“Okay, then, I'll throw a rock at the old Granville house.”

“Oh, no, don't. I love that old house.”

An old house indeed. It was a weather-beaten, old-fashioned two-storied house that once was no doubt resplendent.

“No. You see, you make a wish and then try and break some glass. You got to be a pretty good shot nowadays, too.”

“Oh, no, George, don't. It's full of romance, that old place. I'd like to live in it.”

“In that place?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I wouldn't live in it as a ghost. Now watch...right on the second floor there.” He hurled a stone at the window and broke it. An old man sitting on his porch sat up at attention.

“What'd you wish, George?”

“Well, not just one wish. A whole hatful, Mary. I know what I'm going to do tomorrow and the next day and the next year and the year after that. I'm shaking the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm going to see the world. Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Colosseum. Then I'm coming back here and go to college and see what they know...and then I'm going to build things. I'm gonna build air fields. I'm gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high. I'm gonna build bridges a mile long…”

As he talked, Mary had been listening intently. She finally stooped down and picked up a rock, weighting it in her hand.

“Are you gonna throw a rock?”

Mary threw her rock, and once more the sound of breaking glass echoed over the empty street.

“Hey, that's pretty good. What'd you wish, Mary?”

She threw him a flirty smile. “Buffalo Gals, can't you come out tonight…”

Alya and Tom returned from their trip, and set the pillow on the bed. Alya dropped the blanket over Marinette and Adrien both, then settled on the couch next to Adrien.

“Scooch!” Nino demanded, as he wiggled into the seat next to Alya. Alya then bumped into Adrien, who slid over to be closer to Marinette.

Their legs pressed together.

She didn’t acknowledge it, or the little whimper Adrien made.

On the screen, George Bailey entered the old, run down house they had broken the windows to. It was run down, water dripping from the ceiling, and the wind was blowing the drapes around as the rain poured outside. But a huge fire burned in the fireplace. Near the fireplace, a collection of packing boxes were heaped together in the shape of a small table and covered with a checkered oilcloth, set for two. A bucket with ice and a champagne bottle sat on the table as well as a bowl of caviar. Two small chickens roasted on a spit over the fire. A phonograph played on a box, a string from the phonograph turning the chickens on the spit. A Hawaiian song played on the record. Mary stood near the fireplace looking as pretty as any bride ever looked. She smiled at George, who had been slowly taking in the whole set-up. Through a door, there was the end of a cheap bed, over the back of which is a pair of pajamas and a nightie.

“Welcome home, Mr. Bailey.”

“Well, I'll be...Mary, Mary, where did you…”

Ernie, the taxi driver, shoved George forward into Mary’s arms.

The record ended, and Bert and Ernie sang from outside.

I love you truly, truly dear,

Life with it's sorrow, life with it's tear,

Fades into dreams when I feel you are near,

For I love you truly,

Truly dear!

Ah, love 'tis something, to feel your kind hand,

Ah yes, 'tis something, by your side to stand,

Gone is the sorrow, gone doubt and fear,

For you love me truly,

Truly dear!

A searing pain overtook Marinette’s hand. The pain of a burn, searing flesh and nerves to a blacked char. She looked down, her clenched fingers unfurling.

Chat Noir.

That was engraved into her palm, the scar still very angry and red. The new skin began to show through, a pale white.

Then, by the power invested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.

It was the voice of the officiant echoing in her head, some of his last words before he was shot and killed. The man that had married her to Adrien.

She could feel the paint on her face, the itchy tutu on her legs, and the absolute humiliation of that mockery of a wedding. The drunken singing, the groping, the lifeless eyes of a corpse on the ground.

In that case, let’s get a sailboat. Sail the world. At night, we’ll be just a silhouette surrounded by a myriad of stars. Spend our nights on the glassy water, where you can't tell where the sky begins and ends. Just the two of us, free to go wherever we want.

That was Adrien’s voice, when it still sounded like him. The last time she heard him speak.

When we’re out of here, we’ll have our perfect wedding. And then we’ll go, and never look back.

“Marinette?” Alya asked.

Marinette just shook her head, and covered her face. She brought her legs up and curled up into the corner of the couch as far as she could.

Mary spoke on the screen. “Remember the night we broke the windows in this old house? This is what I wished for.”

—

Day number...who even knew anymore. The dark and the silence made time go on forever.

But the cement was not quite as cold, the ache in her knees not so strong, and she could hear traffic.

This is a dream, she told herself. Just a nightmare.

Just like every night.

The door to her little cage opened, and there stood Ladybug. Her arms were crossed and she looked supremely disappointed.

“Well?” She asked.

“Well what? You’re the one with the powers here.”

Ladybug scoffed, not moving from the doorframe. “Don’t act dumb. I’ve had it with your attitude.”

“You aren’t real,” Said Marinette. “And my attitude? You mean my trauma? My anxiety? My paranoia? You mean the fact that I don’t know who I can trust anymore? You mean the supreme weight of being closed in silence for a month? Is that what you’re sick of, Ladybug? My unheroic disposition? My unladylike mannerisms?”

Ladybug looked at her unflinching. “No. That’s not what I’m talking about at all. And you know it.”

Marinette turned away. “I really wish it was.”

“Because you have an excuse for it?”

“And a logical explanation.”

“I don’t think violent torture is logical.”

“No. No it’s not.” Marinette scoffed. “Look, do you have a reason for bothering me? Or did you just come here to taunt me? O ghost of Christmas past?”

“You know why I’m here.”

“No, I really don’t. This is a dream right? Dreams don’t make sense. They say dreams have hidden meanings, but I really doubt reliving every torment I dealt with in the past month is anything but trauma.”

Ladybug snapped her fingers, and in an instant, they were in Adrien’s room. Marinette was on the couch, where she had elected to sleep, despite the insistence against it from everyone else.

She didn’t look, but she knew Adrien was in his bed.

“You’re acting weird around Adrien again.” Ladybug stated coldly. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“You don’t know? Really? After all you’ve been through together, now you’re avoiding him?”

“I’m not avoiding him!”

“You haven’t said a word to him since he fought his way to you in the hospital!”

“He can’t speak! It wouldn’t be fair!”

“You won’t even look at him!”

“That’s not true!”

“Look at him right now!”

“I—I can’t!”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?”

Marinette trembled. “I can’t...I can’t bear it...”

“Bear what, Marinette?”

It took awhile for her to have an answer.

“I…I don’t know him.” She confessed.

Ladybug didn’t answer, only looked down at her, waiting.

“I don’t know if I ever knew him. How could I, if Chat and Adrien never felt like the same person? And now…this—“ She cut herself off. “I’m horrible. I’m cruel. And I’m unfair. I’m not the Marinette I used to be, so why would he be different? Shouldn’t I just…love him regardless?”

Ladybug sat daintily next to her. “You know love isn’t easy. People change, and so must your love. But it’s not going to if you don’t communicate with him.”

“He can’t talk.”

“He can listen. And he can see. And he’s aware of every time you push him away. And he has no idea why you are. But, knowing him, he’s probably thinking the worst.”

Marinette turned to look at him. He curled up in his bed, looking far too small for the king sized mattress.

He looked restless and tense.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now. But don’t push away the person who understands your pain the most. Now wake up!”

Marinette jolted awake, still on the couch. This time for real. She blinked a few times, noticing that it was snowing outside. The lights from the garden shined up to illuminate the flakes.

Then, she noticed the blond head by her elbows. He was sitting on the floor, resting against the couch and watching the snowfall.

“Adrien?” She whispered, ever so gently.

He turned his head, looking at her with wide green eyes, full of panic. He had been caught.

“Can’t sleep?” She asked again, still gently.

He shook his head, no.

She sat up, making room for him. “Would you like to sit up here? It’ll be more comfortable.”

He took her invitation and climbed onto the couch.

Marinette took note of his posture, tense, closed off, unsure as he continued to watch the snow fall.

“I’m sorry.” She breathed.

He glanced at her again, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I…this is going to sound so stupid, but…now that we’re not in mortal peril anymore, I’ve been thinking…”

Tears gathered in his eyes as he started to scoot farther away from her.

“No, wait, Adrien…ugh.” She grimaced and shook her head. “Look, Chat Noir and Adrien were always so different from each other. I told you I loved you, and I do, and I didn’t lie. But…if the reveal had happened naturally, I would have wanted more time.”

He looked less upset now, and more just curious as he cocked his head.

“Time to reconcile the two versions of you into one. But the person you are now is even more different…I’m just confused. And I still feel…really guilty about getting us into this position in the first place.” Tears started to sting at her own eyes before she shut them tight to will them away. “I’m sorry for pushing you away, Kitty.”

A hand fell on her shoulder. Sure, and strong as he gave her a little squeeze.

“Hey, no sweat Marinette.” She could almost hear his voice.

His hand trailed down her arm to take her hand, before he gave it a little squeeze and brought it to his lips to kiss.

“There’s nothing to forgive, my lady.”

When she opened her eyes, she let out a shuddering sigh at the look on his face. One of adoration and trust. That slight smile, and eyes that sparkled with warmth.

Adrien.

The boy she loved. Her partner.

The line was blurred, but not completely gone. But things already felt better.

He let go of her hand and held out his arm, asking for a hug.

She fell into him, letting his warmth seep into her soul. He smelled like Adrien used to smell, and had a quiet purr that Chat always had.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I really love you.”

He squeezed her tighter and kissed her head.

They stayed like that for a while, until Adrien yawned.

“Let’s get back to bed, huh?”

He gestured to his bed.

“Yeah, I’ll join you.”

He beamed.

Slowly, they both shuffled to the bed, and dropped onto it. Marinette spread her blanket over both of them and snuggled down to rest. The bed really was more comfortable than the couch.

Adrien hooked his ankles with hers, and reached out to take her hand.

She just scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his waist. Then she left a peck on his lips. “Needy kitty.”

He nuzzled against her head, lulling her back to sleep with his purrs.

#longest night #miraculous ladybug #ml #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrinette #adrienette #ladybug #chat noir #fanfiction

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harrylee94 · 3 years

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Log Entry XXXXXX - Chapter 7

Summary: A new space station, complete with the most high spec and up to date technology there is to offer, has been set up at the edge of the known universe, a new way point for explorers to keep in contact with the rest of the human race. It has been carefully designed by the best scientists and engineers Earth could offer, and now 7 brave souls are being sent out to ensure everything works perfectly.

However, when Logan wakes from cryosleep from the journey, he is informed that several things are now in need of repair, though everything had been in perfect working condition when the station had been reconstructed before he and his crew had arrived. They will have to solve the problems they’ve been left with before the station is up and running, and yet Logan can’t help but feel he’s done this before…

Relationships: Intrulogical (Remus/Logan)

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Parasites, Remus having an overactive imagination, It’s an Among Us crossover so there will be bad stuff afoot.

A/N: It’s been a while, but I hope you enjoy the update!

For those of you who don’t know, this story is based off of a comic by @fangirltothefullest which I HIGHLY recommend you check them out on the link above! Their art is AMAZING.

Note to everyone before we begin; there will be graphic descriptions of gore, dismemberment, possibly torture, and any other awful things that come with the territory of writing a story in an Among Us universe. (No gore in this chapter though!)

Link to; Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

To read it on AO3 please click here.

Chapter 7: Day 1

Day 1

As Remus was dragged into the waking world, he realised his body felt weird. Not the good kind of weird either -- the kind where you had a deep ache inside you and your skin tingled with the aftermath of gripping fingers and biting teeth -- but an annoying one. It was like he'd been put in a tumble dryer and built up too much static because of all the jumpers, or he'd been squashed under a giant butt (and not the juicy kind) and every part of him had fallen asleep.

It was weird.

He rolled over, trying to find someone to comfort him, but he hit something hard and, without looking or thinking about it, he climbed over it.

He hit the cold floor with no warning, the meat of his arm and leg having taken most of the impact, along with his elbow and knee, and he groaned in pain and annoyance. He loved bruises, how they blossomed into great puddles of browns and purples and greens and blues and yellows under the skin, but he didn't like the cold of the floor. In revenge he spread his body out over it to heat it up as he blinked at the growing brightness. What was he doing again?

"Are you alright?"

Logan! Of course, this was the shuttle to the Sanders Station, and he’d swapped with Virgil so he could be with his boy-toy! How could he have forgotten? He groaned in response and rolled over, pulling himself towards the other cryotube in the room, his muscles feeling tender and uncooperative. When he reached the giant metal dildo he pulled himself up until his nose poked over the edge of the tube.

Logan was lying in reprise, his eyes closed, like a corpse at a wake, but after a few moments of staring at his love Remus could see the lines of tension between his eyes, a stiffness to the set of his shoulders, and the hard set to his jaw.

“Bad dream, Ana-Logie?” he asked, reaching out to brush the hair from the man’s brow.

“You could say that,” his nerdy Wolverine said with a sigh as he leaned into his fingers, opening his eyes. The tension was still there, but he smiled up at Remus with a sad yet fond look. “It’s all a bit of a nightmare.”

It took him a few moments to realise that Logan hadn’t been shocked at all by the little switcheroo, but he pushed the thought away. For now.

Remus frowned, wondering why his boyfriend sounded like he’d just sat through one of Roman’s boring movie marathons, only to find out there was another love story lined up, but worse. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Logan shook his head, still smiling. “I just… need to find the right words. Maybe over breakfast.”

Remus’s brow furrowed even more, knowing Logan was lying, but nodded as he continued to stroke his fingers through their hair. “Alright then. I’ll be here if you need me.”

“I know you will.” Why did that sound so sad? Logan reached up and held Remus’s cheek, running his thumb over the bone under his eye. “Give me a bit and I’ll join you for breakfast.”

Remus hummed and lay back down on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. He tried to find cracks, lines that were silent promises of doom and distraction, but there was nothing. He huffed and pushed himself up to the edge of the giant dildo and looked down on his whale penis with a pout.

"I didn't get my-" he began, only to get cut off as Logan lunged from his spot to kiss him greedily. Not one to look at the mould and puss in a gift horse's mouth, Remus reciprocated in kind, holding Logan's cheek even as they pulled back, gasping for air. "Wow."

Logan smirked in a way that made Remus’s heart feel like it was going to disintegrate into ashes inside his chest. “I missed you.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, staring at Logan for a few more moments before he pulled himself up and over the edge and onto Logan, who had started laughing, probably because Remus was kissing every inch of skin he could find and he had said that his furry nose fiend made him ticklish.

There was soon a lot more skin for him to tickle, and Remus was only too happy to show Logan just how much he’d missed him in return.

When they headed to the small seating area some time later (Remus didn’t really know how long they had been, nor did he really care, he just knew that he was feeling the good kind of weird now, and his body ached deliciously) after a quick stint in the refresher, Remus headed straight to the screen in the wall to prepare breakfast.

Logie-Bogie was still acting a bit off, so perhaps a trip down memory lane would help. The meal from their first date sounded like a good idea. He typed in the order for pesto pasta and hummed a little bit of the Jekyll and Hyde musical, wiggling a little to the silent beat as he imagined the psychotic monster wandering the streets for his next victim.

“Alive,” Logan said, bringing Remus’s tune to a quiet halt, “and then you’ll move on to Bring On the Men. You’ll give me a bowl of pesto pasta--” The machine in the wall dinged and a steaming bowl slipped out from the slot. “--and call me your Emma and Lucy both before spinning me in your arms and kissing me as you suggest I take you back to bed for a little longer.”

Remus ignored the pasta and sat at Logan’s feet, taking his hands in his as his mind reeled. That was exactly what he was going to do. Probably. He didn’t know for sure, but he knew he would have sung Bring On the Men, and it did sound like something he would do. Was Logan a mind reader now? Could he see into the future? Did that mean his brain would end up overloading and exploding and end up leaking out of his nose and ears?

Logan smiled at him. His eyes were sad. “Then, after I tell you this, we’ll meet the others, Virgil will be having a panic attack if we’re later than seven on the dot, we’ll make a plan of action, and then we will enter the Station. Three hours later, two of us will have fatal encounters with the parasitic aliens that are waiting for us. Over the next few hours, be it through the lack of oxygen, from a reactor meltdown, our own paranoia, or being murdered by imposters in the shape of our friends and family, we’ll all be dead.” He chuckled, the laugh dead and limp in the air, and almost desperate. “What’s worse is that I don’t even remember how many times it’s happened. I tried to keep track but… I don’t even know why I’m trying anymore. I can never save you. I can’t stop the loop. You… You never remember. I…”

Remus climbed up onto his partner’s lap and held him close, waiting for him to cry but instead finding his chest dry. Logan was just blank, staring at nothing. “Lo…”

“I’m all alone,” the man whispered. “You’re all here, but I’m so alone. I think I’m going insane. I have lived this day over and over on a constant loop with almost no reprieve, I have seen your death so much that I’m almost numb to it. I don’t want to feel nothing when I look at you. I don’t want to shut off from this, but if I don’t, then I’m going to break... I just want it to end.”

“Oh my bleeding heart,” Remus murmured, rocking them both back and forth as he imagined Logan snapping, his brilliant mind shattering into a thousand pieces. Would it leave behind a shell; a husk of what had once been? Would it be a blank face, like the one he was holding to his chest, a robot still working but empty of feeling? Would Logan go in the other direction and feel too much; would he be overwhelmed by everything? That would lead to that shell-like state, but it could also mean acting irrationally, and possibly dangerously. He didn’t know enough about mental health to make any real guesses, but if any of those were to happen… He held Logan a little tighter to his chest. “What do you want me to do?”

Logan let out a stunted laugh, but there was a small smile on his face now. “Hold me. Just for a little bit longer.”

“I’d hold you ‘til the end of eternity if you asked me,” Remus said, kissing Logan on his temple.

“I know you would,” Logan said with a sigh, finally wrapping his arms around Remus’s back.

For a while they just sat there, holding each other, Remus focusing on the steady breaths of his beloved and swatting away thoughts of death and carnage and broken minds as much as he could in the silence. He started humming again after a while, not thinking about the tune until Logan chuckled, where he realised he’d continued with his rendition of Alive and moved onto Bring On the Men, just as Logan had said he would.

“Sorry,” Remus muttered, sure that the tunes weren’t helping.

“It’s alright,” Logan replied, and he snuggled into Remus’s chest a little more. “It’s nice.”

“It is?”

“Mmm.”

“Good,” Remus said, brushing at Logan’s hair.

Logan leaned into the touch and Remus continued to hum, but he stopped once he reached the end of the song.

“... Why do you always believe me?”

Remus pulled back a little. “Why do I always believe you?”

Logan nodded, meeting his eye. “It’s a ridiculous thing, what I’m saying. Impossible by any logical count, and still you take me by my word. The first time I explained myself you tested me, but now…”

Remus smiled softly. “Because it’s impossible, and ridiculous, and you told me about it like you were stating the facts that you found in one of your algorithms or through one of your experiments. I believe you because I know you would never lie to me.”

Somehow, this brought on the tears, and Remus softly wiped at the trail they left on Logan’s cheeks. “But I have lied to you!”

“Was it during the loop?” Remus asked. “Was it to try and protect me from being killed by a face hugger?”

Logan sniffed. “They’re more like the creature from The Thing.”

“Was it to protect me from being killed by the Thing then?”

“... Yes.”

“Then I forgive you.”

Logie-Bogie’s face crumpled and he pressed it to Remus’s shoulder, where he rubbed at his back in some hopeless attempt at comfort.

“... You would also never lie about something like this, so there’s that too.”

Logan let out a wet laugh. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my snotty love.”

They sat like that, comforting each other, for perhaps a bit too long, though Remus would have stayed there indefinitely to keep Logan happy if he had to; by the time Logan had pushed him through the rest of their morning, eating the pesto pasta despite it having gone a little cold, it had gone seven, and Emo was recovering from a panic attack with help from Prince Perfect and Daddy-kins. It was all exactly as Logan had said it would be, and when each of them headed off to where they had each decided they would be best needed with all the work they had ahead of them, Logan continued to explain the situation in a little more detail.

“You’re saying that there are videos from past loops?” Remus asked, pulling his tablet out as Logan made quick work of the Oxygen filter.

“Yes,” the scientist replied, “but, for some reason, you can only access them on the screen in Communications. There are some text files that you can access though, once you’ve downloaded them from the Station.”

Remus hummed and swiped through the screen a bit to connect before setting the tablet aside as the little man walked from one end of the screen to the other carrying digital files like a fae creature carrying a baby away from its crib in the middle of the night. “And we still have a few hours until anything really happens.”

“That’s correct,” Logan said, slotting the first of the filter boards back in before pulling out the second. “The air is breathable by the way, though I suggest you keep hold of your helmet in case the creatures decide to turn off the lights again.”

“So lights, oxygen and reactor,” Remus said with a nod, trying to remember exactly how long it took for a body to deteriorate and decompose when it was exposed to radiation. However long it took, he was sure it would be painful, or at the very least disgusting, considering it probably involved burst blood vessels and the vomiting and so forth. Very messy.

“And doors.”

“Doors?” What did doors have to do with anything?

“They can close doors too. And travel through the vents.”

“Oh.” So they could trap you in a room, isolate you, turn off the lights, and murder you while everyone else thought they were in another room. He chuckled, though there was no humour in it; how could there be when it was his Logan who was living through it. “It’s a real life horror movie.”

Logan hummed in agreement as he continued to clean the filter. Remus watched him for a few moments more before sliding on his butt across the floor and hugging him from behind. Logan immediately relaxed into him, though their helmets made the whole process extremely awkward.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I wish there was,” Logan said, his voice quiet, defeated. “I haven’t been able to think of anything that could prevent the death of at least two of our crew. Even when we have ejected them into space with five of us still alive and well I have awoken to the start of the day. My efforts result in nothing but disappointment.”

"Maybe you have to keep everyone alive," Remus suggested, watching as Logan slotted the filter back in place.

"It's something I've considered," the scientist admitted, "but I don't see how it would change anything. Besides, no matter what I try I can never catch the parasites before they find their hosts."

Remus hummed, looking at the tablet to check its progress before reaching up to remove his helmet; just a minute more until he could see what Logan had recorded. He breathed in the air, which tasted stale, like bread that had been out for too long, or a freshly dusted room but the cleaner had died before they could open a window so it was still all just sitting there. He gave Logan another squeeze.

“How often do you take breaks?” he asked, wondering what his booger buddy would look like if his body could reflect what he’d been through. Would there be bags under his eyes? Would he be pale? Would he have lost weight, hair, strength? How many scars would he have? What would a body look like if it had been torn in two and stitched back together again?

“You tend to make sure I get some sleep when I need it,” Logan replied, and Remus could hear the smirk in his voice. “You always know. I don’t know how you do it.”

Remus chuckled. “I know you too well.”

“You really do.”

Smiling, Remus rested his head against Logan’s helmet for a moment before pulling away. “So, are we going to be doing any rescuing? Any daring attempts at fighting off the hordes of hell?”

“Not this time,” Logan said with a sigh, resting the filter in his lap. “I’m tired, Remus. I don’t think I could handle anything like that. I can’t...” His voice faded and his head drooped down. He looked defeated.

“Can’t what?”

“... I can’t watch you die again.”

That… was a good reason. “I’ll stay with you then. For now at least.”

Logan hummed and sent him a smile. “You can read my notes.”

“Yeah.” He looked at the tablet, which had finished downloading all the files. There were over a thousand of them. “I might skip a few.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Remus all but cackled and opened the first document.

An hour later he was almost in tears, the content of the files more painful and horrifying than he could ever have thought. He felt the way Logan had been pulling away with each entry, fading from the world as his hope was taken over by despair, like a growing shadow reaching out and blanketing him with its slick and sticky fingers, an oil spill too thick to escape. He saw how exhausted he was from the phrasing of his words, the loss of formality and scientific data, turning this into more of a journal rather than a log book.

“How could you ever think that this is your fault?”

Logan looked up from his wiring with a puzzled expression. “What?”

“Your last entry…” He held out the tablet for him to see. His sexy nerd didn’t even look, he just sighed and turned away.

“What else am I supposed to think?”

“I don’t know!” Remus exclaimed, waving his arms around and almost breaking the tablet against the wall. “That some weird black hole freak of nature just randomly did this, or maybe some eldritch horror Old One decided to have some fun just to mess with you, or that we got caught in some weird Christmas magic!”

“It’s October.”

“Halloween magic then! The spirits of the damned followed us out here and found some weird space creatures to haunt us with!”

Logan sighed and gave him a fond look, but somehow his eyes looked like deep black pits of despair. Remus dropped the tablet, ignoring the way it clattered to the floor, and removed Logan’s helmet to hold his face.

“This isn’t your fault.”

“I wish I could believe you.”

With those words, it was like every spec of joy inside him had been sucked out of him, and now his body was filled with holes like swiss cheese. He was sure that if he looked down he would find blood leaking out into spots all over his suit, and still he would have been more full than what he could see of the eyes of his heart.

“Lo...” he started, rubbing his gloved thumb over a smooth cheek, wishing he could be touching him in truth, but then the moment was interrupted by a blaring alarm.

Logan looked slowly up at the ceiling. “A meeting’s been called.”

“Shit,” Remus said, his eyes also drawn skyward (or ceiling-ward, since there was no real atmosphere, just what the Station’s system along with a nearby giant planet had provided, which made him wonder if the Imposters had ever had the thought to turn off the gravity enhancers, since that would have made travelling through the Station more difficult). “What happened?”

“Janus found Orange,” Logan replied, and he pulled himself to his feet, pulling his helmet up with him. “He’ll be dead in Storage.”

“Shit,” Remus said again, thinking of the boxes and fuel tank they had passed and imagined them splattered with wet red streaks, or a pool beneath a pile of limbs and body parts. He gathered his own helmet and tablet and scrambled after his partner, who was already heading out the door. “It’ll be Roman and Virgil again then.”

“Yes,” Logan agreed.

“What do we do?”

Logan sighed. Again. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Remus made to argue, but Patton had caught up with them and he was forced to keep himself in check, though it was like holding back a tsunami with a bucket, and the town was already flooded and filled with bloated corpses. Patton was curious about what the ‘fuss was all about’, of course, and while Remus did say that someone had died, the peppy man took it as a joke and waved him off. That is, he did until the meeting.

Remus had seen a corpse or two before. Well, he’d seen more than just two, and even made a few thanks to his time in the military (and if he had a dollar for every person who didn’t believe him he would have been able to fund his medical training instead of having to sign up -- he’d be a millionaire for every look he got about the fact that he was a certified surgeon), but it was never easy. Sure, he liked to pretend everything was alright, being nonchalant and his usual brand of unsettling, but that body had once been alive and breathing, and now all it was doing was shitting itself and starting to decompose. It didn’t help that this was a friend rather than a nameless nobody.

They put Orange in one of the cryo pods, freezing him up like a chicken ready to be put in a microwave, though from the way Roman and Virgil were acting, there wouldn’t be a later.

Had he not known, had he been focused solely on the death they had been forced to face, he would not have seen the way Virgil was decidedly not having a panic attack, far too calm for the way his anxiety would play up, and Roman swept all emotions under the rug after a minute or two, after everyone had become more occupied with other things. Well, after Janus and Patton became more occupied, that is.

Logan was almost listless, watching the proceedings blankly, a little pale, but otherwise drifting into a state of ghoulishness that made Remus wonder if he was going to turn around and eat one of them (but then he remembered that the ones who were likely to eat him had already killed someone, and they weren’t Logan). That left Remus to watch the pair like a hawk.

There was no other outward sign that they had changed at all, though the personality shift would have been enough in ordinary circumstances. Subtlety wasn’t exactly his strong suit though, and he knew that the Roman Imposter had taken note. It was obvious in the way it made his brother’s body stiffen, and the twitch of those once familiar fingers.

“Shouldn’t we sti-stick together?” Patton was saying, his voice wobbling as he kept close to the Virgil Imposter’s side (who was taking advantage of the attention by keeping a hold on his arm, ready to drag him off into a dark corner and tear him to pieces no doubt).

“What if it’s one of us?” Jany asked, looking between each of them with suspicion, which made Remus love his friend just a little more. He’d always been a suspicious asshole, but now it was working overtime, and with good reason.

“How could it be?” Patton asked with a nervous laugh. “We’re all friends! We’ve known each other for years!”

“And yet Orange is still dead.”

Patton gulped and shrunk in on himself.

Janus sighed, a look of guilt passing over him, but it was quickly squashed. “Maybe we don’t know each other as well as we thought.”

“That, or we’ve got some imposters among us,” Remus said, glaring in accusation at the thing wearing his brother as a meat suit. It frowned back at him, but he saw the flash of surprise.

“That’s ridiculous,” the Roman-suit scoffed.

“Is it?” Remus asked.

“Yes!”

“Why don’t we just… find out if there’s anyone else here first?” fake-Virgil suggested. “There’s a way to do that, right?”

“Only in the terms of being able to see where each of the active suits are in the Station,” Logan replied, and Remus stepped closer to his side when he realised how lifeless he sounded compared to everyone else. How broken. How suspicious.

Janus narrowed his eyes at the both of them, but turned back to the conversation. “That’s so useful.”

“Is there no other way to check?” Patton asked.

“We could look,” Roman-suit said.

Remus snorted, hoping his boogers would shoot from his nose and hit the Roman-suit. Maybe they’d be like a caustic acid to them and burn through their skin and it would scream and die in agony. “They could also move and stalk us.”

Patton hugged himself, looking daunted. “Then… Then…”

“What if we fix everything?” fake-Virgil asked. “Would that help?”

Logan sighed, and Remus knew from that expression that they’d already had this conversation before. “It’s possible, though unlikely.”

“Possible’s better than nothing.”

“We should do that then,” Roman-suit said with a decisive nod, and Remus almost scowled at him, but just barely held himself back.

“Split up?” he said instead, face twisting in disgust instead which was almost as good as a scowl, but not quite as good since he was regularly disgusted by his brother.

“The sooner we get things done, the sooner it’ll be over,” Roman-suit said (and he really needed to think of a better name than ‘Roman-suit’).

“You’re acting like you’ve never watched a horror movie! And I know you have because I made you sit through one until you ran off screaming like a baby,” Remus said, pointing an accusing finger at Roman-suit.

“Well what else would you suggest?!”

“Not this!”

“Boys!”

Remus blinked in surprise as he and the Roman-thing turned to look at Patton, who was looking between them in exasperation. Wow, little pappy Patton had some lungs! How long could he hold his breath for?

The man in cyan blue sighed and looked between them, then at Logan, Janus and not-Virgil in turn. “We should vote on it.”

Janus snorted but gave a nod. “It’s an even number…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Logan said and his flat tone had Remus back at his side in a second. “No matter what we choose it’ll be wrong.”

“Logan-” Patton started, but Remus touched his beloved’s cheek and shook his head.

“It could be different this time.”

“This time?” he heard fake-Virgil ask behind him, but all he could focus on were the voids of Logan’s eyes, where even the despair was beginning to fade.

“You always say that.”

Remus wanted something to say to that, some way to bring life back to those dying eyes, to fan the flames of passion that had once thrived there, but even had he been able to think of something he was given no chance to.

His head came close to making contact with the floor as the surprise of Logan’s push almost kept him from reacting, but he managed to catch himself with his elbows. But then came the gasp, and the horrifyingly familiar sound of someone choking on blood.

He knew who it was -- how could he not -- and for a brief moment he let grief consume him, chewing precious pieces of him he had never let anyone see into chum and feeding it to the vicious beasts of rage that flooded the spaces that were left. He didn’t need to look to know, but he did anyway.

Logan had been pierced by several sharpened tentacle-like appendages, the fleshy weapons leaving a shower of blood scattered across the wall behind the man they had so brutally murdered as the creature they had come from sneered at Remus. Logan, the man of his dreams, his bleeding heart, wheezed. Remus could see that his lungs were likely shredded, his liver punctured, intestines ready to spill out of the hole that would be left behind… No, he had to stop looking at that now. Logan was dead, even if he still breathed. There were others who needed help.

“Remus…” the scientist choked, and that was all the additional motivation he needed.

He all but pounced from the floor, dashing past the Roman-suit that was pinning his better half to the wall and tackled Patton, hefting him over his shoulder as fake-Virgil’s body split in two with a wet tearing noise, revealing rows upon rows of teeth.

“Janus!” he cried, and the man in yellow shook himself from his stupor and fled in the opposite direction. Remus hoped that he would be able to survive long enough for them to meet again, but he had other things to worry about; like the horror of a mouth that was reaching out to take a bite of him and the stiff body in his arms.

Logan choked again, the gasps his flooded longs made tempting Remus turn around, but he didn’t. He couldn’t spare time for the dying, no matter who they were.

“Vir-Virgil?” Patton stuttered from his shoulder, even as Remus ran from the scene, trying to remember the rooms without vents.

An inhuman scream of rage followed them, winding through the corridors as he headed for the Oxygen room and dropped Patton unceremoniously on the ground. He could hear the imposters gaining ground on them, and he could only hope that Janus got somewhere safe before he pulled out his tablet. The screen was almost severely damaged, but he somehow managed to get the doors closed, and not a moment too soon.

The entire room shuddered, equipment and all, as one of the somethings collided with the door, and Remus took an instinctive step back, spreading his arms out in a futile attempt to protect Patton.

“Can you deadbolt the door, Pops?” he asked, gaze never leaving the door which was likely moments away from being rent asunder.

“What?” came the quiet, fearful voice of their navigator. “I… I think so.”

“Then do it,” Remus commanded, eyes remaining on the door.

“O-okay.”

Remus tensed further when the room shook again with another hit, but he exhaled in relief when he heard Patton tap away at his tablet. It would be useless in the end, he knew, but even a little distraction would prevent complete panic, and he couldn’t have that.

And then the banging stopped.

Remus blinked in surprise, but he wouldn’t be fooled; he’d seen enough horror movies to keep himself from falling for this trick.

“Oh brother mine.”

Remus growled. “Whatever you are, you’re not my brother.”

Roman-suit chuckled through the door. “Why don’t you come out here, Dukey--”

“You don’t get to use that name!”

There was a pause, and then the room flashed red as an alarm blared.

“Dukey,” the imposter cooed. “It’s time to come out now.”

“That’s the reactor,” Patton said, tears evident in his voice.

“Shit,” Remus muttered, eyes flying everywhere to try to find an out, and the imposter laughed.

“Re-Remus?” Patton said, and all Remus could do was stare at him as all the hope drained from him. Patton crumpled a moment later and started sobbing.

Doing the only thing he could think of, Remus knelt done next to him and cradled him in his arms. As the voice counted down, he tried to pretend that it was Logan in his arms, but even the burn of the oxygen tanks exploding through him couldn’t make the lie anymore believable.

_______________________________

Day 2

Remus shot up with a gasp, clutching at the shirt section of his latex jumpsuit as his fingers instinctively clutched at the edge of… his cryopod? He blinked, looked from side to side and rubbed at his eyes. He was in the cryochamber, in the shuttle. He was in the giant dildo freezer, he was alive, and…

In his rush to look over to his right he made himself dizzy and, before he knew it, he’d fallen out of his coffin with a breathless ‘oof’.

“... You okay?”

Remus’s breath caught in his throat, threatening to choke him, but he pulled himself closer to the second pod with a groan and pulled himself up.

Logan looked up at him, slightly amused but so very exhausted, and very much alive.

#fanfiction #sanders sides #sanders side fic #sanders sides among us au #among us #remus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #orange sanders #tw blood #tw gore #tw character death #time loop writing

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thephantomofthe-internet · 5 years

Text

Eighteen Candles

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Word Count: 4,965

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, teenage angst

Tag List: @moonstruckhargrove @hotstuffhargrove @carolimedanvers @thechickvic @alex--awesome--22 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @hawkeyeharrington @sunflowercandie @kaliforniacoastalteens @songforhema @spidey-pal @mickmoon @buckybarneshairpullingkink @marvelismylifffe @baebee35

You’d been excited for weeks, and with good reason. A girl only turned eighteen once. And you were certain that your friends were throwing you a surprise party. How could they not? You’d thrown parties for Tina and Carol on their eighteenths and you were already planning one for Macy in July. They had to do the same for you, they loved you the same.

You’d hardly slept the night before, your favourite outfit laid out on your chair across from your bed and your alarm set fifteen minutes later than usual as a little gift to yourself. And when that alarm went off, you practically jumped out of bed. You’d never been excited for a school day in your life. You couldn’t keep the grin off your face, it was too infectious. It didn’t matter that the sky was grey and cloudy; you’d light up the whole town with your good mood.

“Y/N! Get up! You’re late!” you mother screamed from the bottom of the stairs, she sounded very annoyed. That wasn’t exactly the greeting that you were expecting, but you were technically late, so you didn’t think much of it. You hurried to get ready, humming along to your walkman as you unfurled the curlers from your hair, swiping blush onto your cheeks. You wanted to look your best because it made you feel your best and you refused to not have the best day.

You skipped downstairs, slinging your bag onto your shoulder. Your mother and brother were already at the door, about to head out. She looked you over with a sigh “You’re late, Y/N.”

You shrugged “Sorry, just give me two seconds and we’ll go.” You didn’t have your own car, purely because yours had crapped out a year after you bought it and you couldn’t afford the cost of fixing it. It sat on cinder blocks in your cousin Artie’s car lot, waiting for you to be able to cover the costs of having a specialist fix it. You didn’t necessarily adore being driven around by your mother, but there wasn’t much you could do about it at the moment, and it wasn’t as if she was going out of her way-she dropped off your little brother every day at Hawkins Middle, which were only steps away from Hawkins High.

Your mother sighed violently “No, you’ve already made us late enough. You can walk to school.” She snapped, pushing your brother out the door and into the dreary day, slamming the door behind her.

She didn’t wish you a happy birthday. It stung a little.

But she was mad, you rationalized, she probably just forgot in the heat of the moment, she’d remember later and apologize. For now, you just had to get your act in gear and get to school. You didn’t exactly mind being late today, you considered it a small treat for the week, so you took your time that morning.

But that was a mistake. The second you exited your street the rain came down in buckets. It was as if the heavens opened up to sing a harmonious and angelic ‘fuuuuuck yoooooou’ right onto your head. You didn’t have the time to run back home to get an umbrella or a raincoat, and the walk back wouldn’t be any dryer than the walk to school, even with the coat, so you suffered through every splash from passing cars and sink of your shoes into the mud. By the time you made it to school, you were shivering, your favourite thigh high tights absolutely soaked through and your hair dripping wet.

You practically rushed to your locker, your fingers fumbling over the lock until it clicked and you were able to pull the door open. You knew that you had a brush and a hair band in there, as well as your painter’s jeans from first semester art class, which were your saving graces of the day. You changed fast in the bathroom, just as the bell rang out, signalling the end of homeroom. You smiled to yourself, sure you missed homeroom, but Mr. Dixon’s math class was a bitch and he would’ve given you detention on the spot if you walked in late. Getting an absence on your report card wouldn’t be too terrible, you could explain it away. Missing Mr. Dixon’s class was a blessing.

And luckily, Carol and Tina were coming your way. Things were looking up.

You opened your locker again, grabbing your history textbook from inside before checking your makeup. The rain hadn’t washed everything away, although it had made a mess of your mascara. You used your pinkies to wipe away the goop pooling under your bottom lashes, smiling as it wiped away mostly clean. You wiped your hands on your jeans; it wasn’t as if they had to look nice anyway.

From the magnetic mirror stuck to your locker door, you saw Carol and Tina come up behind you. You turned fast, unable to hide your obvious excitement. But they didn’t look too happy to see you, in fact they both looked downright annoyed.

“Where were you this morning?” Carol snapped angrily, crossing her arms over her chest. She was wearing that lilac turtleneck again with the plum coloured suspenders. She looked like someone’s uncle grew boobs, which you wouldn’t usually go for, but she seemed to like.

“And what are you wearing?” Tina added, looking you over sceptically, her nose for fashion clearly offended by your jeans.

Your hands came to the ends of your wet hair, squeezing them uncomfortably “I woke up late, had to walk.” You explained “I got stuck in the rain and my tights were soaked, I would’ve caught my death if I kept them on and this is all I had to change into.”

Carol rolled her eyes and Tina scoffed loudly “You need to get your car fixed like asap.” She muttered, leaning against the lockers behind her. Tommy came up next to Carol and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to the space between her jaw line and the edge of the sweater’s neckline. Behind him, Billy Hargrove stood, arms crossed over his chest, a toothpick clenched between his teeth, looking around the halls with a bored look.

This was a rare appearance.

Billy Hargrove ran in your circle, barely. He associated with them when he needed to or deigned to, so it seemed. He was trying so very hard to seem above everyone in your grade. And maybe, to some of your classmates, it was working; Carol and Tommy thought he was endlessly cool, Tina thought he was the sexiest man in the world. But you didn’t buy it. What you saw when he stood there was a guy staring off into space, trying to look cool, not allowing himself to be vulnerable in the slightest, surrounded by people who would think anything he said was super cool.

“So, what’re your plans for tonight?” you asked the group, trying not to appear too needy or desperate. You had to have a clue as to what they were doing for your birthday, so you could plan.

“It’s a Tuesday, Y/N...I’m gonna study for Dixon’s hell test on Friday.” Carol snapped, looking over her long red nails with utter disdain “Which you would’ve known about if you’d decided to grace up with your presence this morning.”

You stifled a sigh “I told you, I was late-” you tried, but the group had already moved on.

“I can totally help you study, babe,” Tommy said, nuzzling into Carol’s neck “But only if your parents aren’t home.”

Billy rolled his eyes at that comment and you couldn’t help but smirk. Your sentiments exactly. Tina was looking him over with utter lust in her eyes; it was a little embarrassing to watch. Of course, you’d been in her shoes before, although not over Hargrove. To be completely honest, you didn’t get the appeal. Sure, he was very pretty, but his laissez-faire attitude about everything was a bit of a turn off. You needed to know that there was more to him than that and, so far, nothing. He was exactly how he seemed, a very shallow pond with nothing growing at the bottom.

Carol smacked Tommy hard in the ribs “I can handle it myself...” she bit out through gritted teeth. Tommy held up his hands in defeat, backing up slowly.

He looked over to Billy with a smirk, leaning over to him “Fucking chicks, eh?” he joked with a crass chuckle. Carol’s eyes flared angrily, fire flashing behind her dull green eyes. Tina immediately reached out and touched her shoulder, shaking her head with an understanding look. Billy pulled a small smirk, nodding approvingly to Tommy. You had no proof of the meaning behind that look, but you guessed that Tommy had gotten all the affirmation he needed from Billy. He was right to think that women were utterly impossible. On the opposite side, Tina seemed to be telling Carol to ignore him, that he wasn’t worth it.

The bell rang above you, signally the start of your next classes. Tina’s pupils blew out and she let go of Carol, pushing into the still crowded halls “C’mon, Y/N, Crazy Krupke’s pop quiz!” she burst into a sprint down the halls. You stepped away from your locker, offering a feeble wave to the group, all of whom had free period that hour. They weren’t paying attention, but it wasn’t a big deal.

They hadn’t wished you a happy birthday. That stung a bit.

But maybe they were trying to make you think that they forgot so you’d be surprised for your party tonight. That would be smart. Maybe smarter than they were capable of, but you liked to give them the benefit of the doubt. You kept a positive outlook on the situation.

But that was hard to keep. The group abandoned you for lunch, each off in their own direction to bother different people. Tommy dragged Carol along to try to convince Steve Harrington of all people to throw a party for the upcoming break. Tina ran off with Macy to go to a prom committee meeting. And Billy Hargrove, well, you weren’t too focused on where he went. You ate lunch alone in the library, hiding in the shelves to not get caught eating in there, since that was against the rules. But that wasn’t too terrible, you’d done that before, and it was nice to get some of your work done.

But the rest of the day wasn’t any better. The group seemed to be avoiding you all day. They wouldn’t each lunch with you, they wouldn’t talk during class breaks, and Tina sped off after school before even offering you a ride, like she usually did. But all of this fell perfectly into the elaborate plan you’d imagined them making. They couldn’t just be assholes. They weren’t assholes most of the time. You wouldn’t have started hanging out with them if they were.

You got caught in the rain again on your walk to work, which while wasn’t intensely far, was just far enough away to cause you to get absolutely soaked through again. You worked at the local library, which you considered to be a blessing since the place was quiet and most people didn’t bother you. Luckily for you, they even had some leftover fundraiser shirts, which one was easily given to you to wear home. And while you weren’t happy to be working on your birthday, it was nice to just be surrounded by sweet old ladies and quiet, fat babies. It was nice. And your manager, Roberta, cut your shift early, a rare blessing from her. She even lent you an umbrella to walk home with, which you were insanely grateful for, since the rain didn’t seem to stop for you.

The day was really starting to bog you down. You were cold and tired and damp, so very damp. You were going to wake up with a cold in the morning, you just knew it. But it would all be worth it when you walked into your surprise party. You spent your walk home practising your surprised faces, the excitement in the pit of your stomach building as the sun set behind you during your walk, the streetlights slowly turning on during your walk. Turning onto your street, you took a deep breath, looking around the area. You didn’t see Tina or Tommy’s cars parked on the road, but that would be good planning. You made your way up the street, trying not to run or skip, to give them the time to finish any last minute set up.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you made your way up your driveway, every step faster than the last till you were running up to your front steps, skipping up them till you were at your front door. The warm light from your dining room was pooling out of the window through the shut blinds. The whole house seemed lit up and comforting, as if the house was full again, instead of it just being you and your parents. Your hands fumbled for your keys and you stabbed them into the lock, your hands shaking as you turned the key, pulling open the door and letting the sound of loved ones wishing you a happy birthday.

Except, none came.

You crept slowly into your house, peering around corners to find exactly none of your friends. Your parents were in the dining room, unaware that you’d even arrived, your little brother picking at his food.

Nobody had shown up. Nobody had done anything for you. All your friends were somewhere else, having fun without you. A wave of disappointment washed over you, soaking into your skin and making you sick to your stomach, like heat stroke. Your body felt sticky with sweat, your stomach filled with shame. Why on earth would you think that they would do anything for you? God, you’d gone to them for comfort after your little friend group fell apart. Sure, you, Samantha Baker, Tammy Thompson, and Robin Buckley didn’t have much in common by the end, but losing Barb was just the icing on a crumbling cake. And Carol and Tina, they were there for you, they invited you into their shitty, bitchy little circle with open arms and false smiles. And you trusted them. But they didn’t care about you, they didn’t put in the same work towards your friendship that you did. And that was the thing that broke your heart, that your friends just didn’t care that much.

“Y/N, you’re late come and eat.” Your mother snapped, gesturing to your open chair, food already piled onto your plate. You bit back a sigh, trudging into the dining room and plopping down in your chair.

As if today could guess any worse. Beef Stroganoff. You fucking hated beef stroganoff; it was like someone ate beef and liquid diarreahed it onto some egg noodles. It was salty and terrible. Your mother always made it when she was bored of cooking. Usually, you’d offer to take over for the night to give her a break. You make pizza or spaghetti and meatballs and your mother would take a nap. It was a win-win. But working on a weekday proved to be your failure.

You pushed the food around your plate, waiting for something-someone to ask about your day, to crack a joke, god to fucking wish you happy birthday. But nothing. Everyone just ate in silence. It was crushing.

Your mother broke the silence with an aggravated sigh “Y/N, can you please just eat? You’re setting a bad example for your brother.”

“I’m really not in the mood for beef stroganoff...” you replied, letting out a sharp breath through your nose.

Your mother clicked her tongue angrily “I have had a very bad day, Y/N, can you please not make it worse?” she asked, obviously annoyed.

That was it. That was your breaking point. You dropped your fork on the table, looking up to finally meet her eye. “Oh, you’ve had a bad day?” you asked, your lips curling into a sneer “You?”

“Don’t take that tone with your mother.” Your father said boredly, not bothering to even acknowledge the scene.

That didn’t stop you, you were too mad. “It’s my fucking birthday.” Recognition filled your mother’s eyes as her mouth opened slightly.

You pressed on “It’s my god damn eighteenth birthday and nobody remembered. You forgot, he forgot, dork breath over here forgot. Everybody fucking forgot. My friends forgot. And the universe decided to shit on me too, I got rained on all day-I’m freezing still from the walk TO school. My friends ignored me, you ignored me, everyone at work ignored me and all I wanted to do when I came home was hear ‘happy birthday, Y/N’ it’s all I fucking wanted. So, no, I don’t wanna eat beef stroganoff and hear about your bad day, because it cannot top mine.”

“Y/N, apologize to your mother.” Your father snapped. Your mother was still in shock, but your father seemed to have caught on to the situation and was fuming. You didn’t care. You knew no matter what happened, you were going to get your ass beat later, but for now you had an ounce of power.

You pushed yourself out of the chair, standing up and stalking to the doorway “Fuck this shit.” You snapped back, shoving your shoes into your feet and marching outside, slamming the door behind you.

You didn’t exactly know where you were going, but out was better than in the house, so you started the walk down to the Hawkins woods. Maybe you’d get eaten by a wolf or kidnapped like that Byers kid. That would really be perfect. Then you could disappear and they’d regret it.

You hiked up to the quarry in peaceful silence. The rain had finally stopped and everything smelt like wet grass and pine wood. It had gotten significantly darker, but you weren’t afraid of it, you welcomed the danger those woods could offer. Sitting by that little pool of murky, gross water, you felt calm again. Everything was still fucked up, but sitting alone made it easier. You let the tears brimming in your eyes finally spill out, small sobs breaking through your throat.

You didn’t sense the headlights coming up behind you till you heard the car stop. You jumped to your feet, still crying, as you threw up your dukes. You couldn’t imagine how insane you looked, face streaked with mascara, red and blotchy from crying, ready to fight. The driver’s side door creaked open and you heard the sound of the driver’s shoes before you saw them. Lit from the front, the annoyed and bewildered Billy Hargrove flicked a cigarette at your feet.

“What cha doing out here, Y/N?” he asked in an almost sing-song tone. You dropped your fists, groaning loudly towards the sky.

“Just trying to enjoy some alone time here.” You sighed. Billy sauntered up to you, looking you up and down with a sly expression.

“You’ve been crying.” He hummed.

“What’s it to ya?” you shot back. Billy wrapped an arm around your shoulders, which was unexpected but you didn’t exactly pull away, if only because he was so warm and you still were freezing. He led you over to his car and gestured for you to sit down on the hood. You did so and Billy followed.

“Alright, what happened?” he asked, looking over the quarry.

You furrowed your brow “Since when do you care?”

Billy shrugged “I’m bored. You gonna tell me or what?”

You sighed, closing your eyes slightly “Everyone forgot my birthday.”

Billy nodded “Yeah, I could tell you were waiting for them to say something this morning, couldn’t figure out what but that-that makes sense.” You took in a hard, shaky breath, wrapping your arms around your stomach to anchor yourself. “Your parents too?” you nodded. Billy chuckled darkly, shaking his head with this look of silent understanding that you found both distressing and oddly comforting. “But I mean why didn’t you mention it to them?”

“What? And look like a desperate loser?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes and begging for tears not to fall from them.

“So, instead, you sat around and got upset?” Billy asked. You felt his eyes burning into the side of your face, but you refused to look at him.

“Look, I never said it was logical.” You huffed dramatically. Billy chuckled; pulling his pack out of his pocket, sliding a cigarette between his teeth and flicking open his lighter.

Billy chuckled before hopping off the hood. Without a word, he slid off the hood and sauntered over to his still ajar door. You kept your eyes on the water in the quarry and silently prayed that Billy didn’t try to drive off with you still on the hood. He came back though, to your relief, and took his seat next to you.

He handed you a sealed plastic bag, which you took sceptically. You examined it in dim light from below you. Sour gummy worms. You turned to Billy with a curious look “Secret sweet tooth?” you asked, pulling open the thick plastic and taking a worm out carefully, dropping it into your mouth.

Billy scoffed “Max left them in my car.” His voice cracked on the end. You weren’t certain, but you had a hunch that he was lying. You shrugged it off though, offering the bag to him. He grabbed about three from the bag, shoving them all into his mouth and proving your theory on the sugar thing.

“Well, thanks,” you sighed softly, dropping your head into your hands “Guess this is all I’m getting for my birthday...”

“Don’t give up hope on ‘em.” Billy grumbled, digging his fist into the bag once again, pulling out more of the candy and shoving it into his gaping maw. He’d given up on the cigarette, tossing it into the mud to burn out in the damp sand.

You sighed bitterly “But its so easy to...I mean if I just say that they suck then I don’t have to have any expectations for them again.”

Billy shrugged “Having less expectations is good, makes for more surprises.”

You chuckled “Oh yeah? Like what?” it was a leading question and you knew it, but you wanted to see what Billy was going to pull out of his ass to impress you. You weren’t surprised when he grabbed your chin and pressed his lips to yours. What was surprising was that it wasn’t the aggressive, attention grabbing, tongue filled kiss he’d usually pull with other girls. He was soft and careful; he held your face like it was something precious and his lips brushed your delicately. It was nice, his lips tasted like sour sugar from the candies with a hint of Vaseline, which you assumed was some sort of ChapStick. You weren’t surprised that Billy took care of his appearance, although it was a bit of a treat to kiss a boy whose lips weren’t sandpaper against yours.

You pulled away first with a smirk, which Billy didn’t share. He looked...surprised? Confused maybe, the look was one of sheer confliction. You didn’t question it. And when he offered to drive you home, you let him, sitting in the cigarette perfumed interior and letting him blast Slayer into your ears until you were sure that they’d bleed. He dropped you off without a word, leaving you feeling about as confused as he looked. You headed inside to face the worst of the wrath from your parents with your head held high.

To your surprise, they weren’t waiting for you. You’d been given the blessing to creep upstairs and go to bed. But before you could turn off your light and try your best to fall asleep, the door cracked open, your mother on the other end. Wordlessly, she stepped in, taking a seat on the end of your bed.

“Your father isn’t too pleased with you.” She said softly. Your little brother’s room was next to yours, connected by a wall. You sat up a bit in bed, not pretending to feel guilty for your actions. You opened your mother to defend yourself, but your mother cut in again “I don’t need you to say anything, I understand.”

That was not what you expected. Maybe the whole have fewer expectations thing really could work. She continued “I’m sorry we forgot sweetie, I really am. I know this one was a big milestone birthday and I feel awful that we didn’t remember. I know you know things have been really hectic around here, with your father starting a new job, and I want you to know that we’re very appreciative of what you do to help. And to show that, we’re just gonna pay to get your car fixed, okay?”

Your whole face lit up. Car payments weren’t even on the table for gifts, you were certain it was too expensive. “Really?” you asked softly, unsure if your mother was joking or not.

She grinned “Really. No more walking in the rain.” You burst out of bed, wrapping her in a giant hug. Your mother laughed, returning it with equal fervour. It was nice, a small bit of bonding with your mother, something that rarely happened anymore. You went to sleep peacefully that night.

You weren’t expecting anything when you went into school the next day. It was a Friday; everyone was focused on getting through the day to make it to the weekend. You were no exception. You were finally getting your car back; your father had gone to pay for the tow truck and the mechanic’s shop to fix the damn thing that morning. Anything else was tertiary.

But, to your shock, a large group of kids were standing around your locker. It wasn’t anywhere near the size of your graduating class, but it was at least fifteen kids. Carol, Tina, and Macy stood in the front. Tina had a cupcake in her hands as Macy struggled to get a lighter to work to light the big pink candle in the centre of the thick, green icing. You spotted Tommy, grumbling in the back, arms crossed tightly over his argyle sweater. He had a huge black eye that spread over his right cheekbone and eyebrow. Samantha was in the back as well, with a smirk pulled on her black lips. Tammy Thompson and Robin Buckley were tittering between themselves behind Carol, who angrily shushed them.

You walked up to the group tentatively. All at once, the group screamed “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!” the group started into the birthday song, everyone off key and cringing as they realized just how long the song really was. Macy lit the candle and Tina held out the sickly sweet looking treat to you. You took it awkwardly, blowing out the candle and holding it up with a nod. The group dispersed almost immediately.

“My birthday was yesterday…” you said to the remaining group. Carol and Tina looked between one another awkwardly. They seemed shocked by the information.

“We know!” Macy blurted. Carol and Tina snapped their heads around to look at her, nodding for her to go on with an excited, desperate expression. “We wanted to surprise you and this seemed like the best way to do it!”

Tina nodded fast “Exactly! We wouldn’t forget.”

You smirked, nodding slowly as you looked around the hallway. When you spotted Billy hiding behind the wall of lockers, trying to look casual, you smiled. Without a word, you left the group in the dust, marching over to Billy. He met your eye as you stepped up to him. You held out the cupcake “You want this?” you asked.

Billy raised an eyebrow quizzically “It’s your weird birthday thing.” He replied, trying to sound bored.

You shrugged “I don’t want it.” Billy paused before taking it, practically ripping the wrapper off.

You chuckled “How on earth do you keep your arms while devouring that sugary shit?” you asked as he took a monstrous bite, bright green icing sticking to the tip of his nose.

“I work out.” His mouth was far too full for his words to be understood. You cringed at the sight of mushed food in his mouth. Billy closed his mouth fast, swallowing hard. “Sorry…” he mumbled.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” You replied.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean that…scene. You didn’t have to do that.” You scuffed your shoes on the dirty linoleum. In truth, the scene was slightly embarrassing. A half assed surprise with a cheap grocery store cupcake and awkward singing. It had made you want to run away, but of course it was obviously for you, so you’d had to stay.

Billy shrugged “You were upset, didn’t bother me to beat up Tommy about it.”

“Since when do you care?” you asked genuinely. Billy barely paid attention to anything, much less you. You didn’t think that he even liked you till last night.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re the only decent person in that group.” Billy replied simply, pushing himself off the lockers.

“Thanks?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Billy chuckled “You’re welcome.” The warning bell for first period rang out from above you. “Come on, I’ll walk you to class.” Billy never offered to walk anyone anywhere. You took the walk without question. You were trying not to have any expectations anymore, why have any about Billy? You just decided to enjoy the company and silence and try to not obvious want more.

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darley1101 · 5 years

Text

You Taste Like Home (Perfect Match Damien x MC)

Tastes Like Home

Violent thoughts were not the norm for Ava. She liked to think of herself as an almost pacifist. Almost because she enjoyed a good boxing match. What could she say, there was just something insanely hot about two half naked men slugging it out while sweat dripped down their muscled up bodies. What wasn't hot was Damien's ex Alana. Okay, so maybe Alana was physically attractive; if you liked perfect hair and high cheek bones. The surly attitude and smug remarks about breaking Damien were total deal breakers though. To quote her cousin Nadia “being an insufferable twat was so not cool.” It had taken an insane amount of will power for Ava to not curl up her fist and punch the bitch right in her perfect nose. She was actually proud of how restrained she had been. Under normal circumstances she would have at least snatched some of that perfect hair from Alana's scalp. It was the sex, she thought bitterly as she stripped off her light gray t shirt and denim shorts. Her body and mind had still been muddled from having Damien fuck her not once, not twice, but three times in that tiny bathroom on the plane. What could she say...it had been a long flight.

Kicking her underwear aside while she unhooked her bra, Ava drew her brows together at the memory. A lot strong words had been said in that bathroom. She'd meant them. They hadn't been some in the heat of the moment proclamation. She loved Damien so much it fucking hurt sometimes; like now to be exact. Damien on the other hand...well she wasn't so sure what his intentions were. He'd seemed to love thrusting his dick in and out of her. He'd seemed to love her mouth going down on him. And he had definitely seemed to love making her cum. All of his so called love seemed to vanish when the plane landed and they discovered his ex holed up in his safe house. The urge to punch him in the face was almost as strong as the urge to punch Alana.

She stepped under the shower head, squeezing her eyes shut as the steady stream of hot water washed away the sweat, cum, and other grime that had accumulated on her body during the mad dash to stay one step ahead of Eros. There was a part of her that wanted to call up Cecile and say 'here's your robot back, now leave us the hell alone.' She wasn't stupid enough to think things would be that simple. It wasn't just Hayden that Eros was after. Sloane had stolen a lot of incriminating evidence from their computers. There was also all the information Damien, Ava, and Nadia had discovered during their file search. No way in hell Eros was backing off without a fight.

“Ava, you have got to see this closet!” Nadia called from the other side of the door. “Girl might be a bitch but she's a bitch with excellent taste!”

Rolling her eyes, Ava focused on scrubbing herself down. It was pointless to remind Nadia that of course Alana had good taste. She had dated Damien, plus she had an endless supply of government resources at her disposal. “Like seriously,” Nadia continued. “There's Addison Sinclair and...oh my god! Ava she has Priya Delacroix! I repeat...she has Priya Delacroix!”

The excitement in Nadia's voice was almost contagious because Ava found herself smiling for the first time since they arrived in Germany. The smile was mostly for Nadia. It was nice to hear something other than anger, heartbreak, and despair in her cousin's voice. “There's this purple dress that you're going to look amazing in Ava,” Nadia squealed. And just like that the smile faded. There was no way in hell Ava was wearing any of Alana's clothes. She would rather put back on the grimy outfit on the floor. “I don't think any of this has ever been worn.”

“Nadia,” Ava yanked open the bathroom door, steam billowing out around her. “I am not wearing that bitch's clothes.”

Nadia cross her arms. “So what are you going to wear? The clothes you just took off? News flash Ava they're disgusting. Do you really want to put them back on?”

Of course Ava didn't want to put her dirty clothes back on, but she wanted to wear Alana's clothes even less. She already felt like Alana viewed her someone inferior, someone who was content with other people's sloppy seconds. Showing up to dinner in the other woman's dress would only add fuel to that fire and Ava couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't give in to her violent thoughts if Alana made a remark. “I'm not wearing the dress.”

“You sound like cousin Oscar's three year old. 'I'm not eating the rice it looks like maggots' only its 'I'm not wearing the dress because it belongs to Damien's ex.'” Nadia rolled her eyes and tossed the purple gown on the foot of the bed. “Wear whatever you want. I'm going down to dinner.”

“That's not...I..just...” Ava pressed her lips into a twisted grimace. Nadia was right. Her main reason for not wanting to wear the dress was because it belonged to Damien's ex. “I don't sound like cousin Oscar's three year old,” she muttered as she trooped back into the bathroom. Bending over, she scooped up her dirty clothes. There had to be a washing machine and a dryer somewhere in that house.

“Now that's a nice view,” Damien drawled.

Ava let out a tiny shriek, her arms flailing just enough to send her clothes flying. She watched in horror as her panties landed in the toilet. Clutching her towel to her chest, she spun around and shot Damien a hard look. “Shouldn't you be catching up with Alana?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Damien leaned against the bathroom door frame. “There's nothing for Alana and I to catch up on.”

“Does she know that?” Turning her back on him, Ava wrinkled up her nose and fished her panties from the toilet. Uncertain what to do with them, she plopped them in the sink.

“Yes, Ava,” Damien smirked, “she knows that. Why? You jealous?”

Her jaw went slack, leaving her mouth gaped. He did not just ask her if she was jealous of Alana. Without thinking, Ava balled up her fist and slammed it into Damien's stomach. “You are such a freaking asshole,” she snapped, shoving past him.

“Jesus, Ava,” he wheezed, rubbing the spot where her fist had connected with his flesh. “What's gotten into you.”

“I don't know Damien. What could have possibly gotten into me?” Stomping across the room, Ava yanked up the over sized tote Nadia called a purse. She felt a little bad for rummaging through it but occasionally her cousin carried around extra clothes. No such luck this time. She tossed the tote aside and wheeled back around on Damien. “You know, I meant what I said. I didn't just...just....” she felt some of her steam starting to diminish. It was hard to hold on to anger when her heart hurt as much as it did. “You shouldn't say things you don't mean,” she whispered, rapidly blinking as she felt the tell tale sting of tears.

“Ava,” Damien pushed away from the door jam and closed the distance between them. As he pulled her towards him, she started to push away but ended up melting into the embrace instead. Closing her eyes, she buried face in the soft cotton of the t shirt he wore. “Come on now,” he chided, using his knuckles to lift her chin. Her dark brown eyes meet his lighter ones. “You know me better than that. I don't throw those words around.”

He was right. Love wasn't a word that Damien casually used. In fact, Ava couldn't recall a single moment he had ever said the word love before their hook up in the plane. Even in past conversations about Alana he had only ever said he cared deeply for his ex partner/girlfriend. Hell, he didn't even use it when talking about his mother; whom he liked well enough. Yet he had said it to Ava. He'd made her look him in the eyes when he said it, she recalled. He'd wanted her to know he meant it. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and let out a shuddering sigh. How could she have been so neurotic? Oh. Right. Eros. Everything circled back to Eros. “Then why have you been ignoring me?” She can't help but wince at how whiny the question sounds. Oh God, Nadia's right, I do sound like cousin Oscar's three year old.

She can feel his chest expand as he takes a deep a breath. “Hayden might not be human, Ava, but he still has feelings. I might be an ass at times but I'm not cruel.”

Hayden. Ava had all but forgotten about him. She can't help but feel somewhat guilty. No, she had never led Hayden on but he'd been good to her. And had he been human, had Damien never spoke up, who knows where the relationship might have gone. “So it was strictly about Hayden? It had nothing to do with the fact that your ex partner whose also your ex girlfriend is here?”

“I could give two fucks what Alana thinks.” He chuckled but then grimaced. He tugged Ava closer and lowered his mouth to her ear. “I don't trust her,” he murmured. “She shouldn't have been here. Something about her story doesn't add up.”

Why was he whispering? A chill went down Ava's spine. He thought the room was bugged. That was the only explanation for his sudden change in tone. “So what are we going to do,” she whispered back, her heart pounding.

“Right now? I'm going to remind you of what you do to me.” He reached for her towel, untucking the knot that secured it around her breasts. Ava's breath caught in her throat as he navigated her toward the bed. The backs of her knees hit the mattress and with a tiny nudge from him, she's sent sprawling.

“You're crazy,” Ava hissed. “If you think I'm going to fuck you in a room that might be bugged you're out of your mind.” She rose up on her elbows. “Plus, I'm still mad at you.”

He leaned down, their noses almost touching, and brushes his lips across hers. She doesn't want to lose control, not when there is a very real possibility that the room the room was bugged. Yet, as his mouth kept teasing across hers, she feels her grasp on clarity slipping away. It's as though they're in a bubble, where nothing matters but the way they make each other feel. She flattened her hands on his chest, relishing the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm, before sliding one up and into his dark hair. She let out a small gasp as he nipped her lower lip and then kissed his way south. “Damien, I'm serious,” she whined. His mouth vibrated against her belly as he chuckled.

“Who said anything about fucking.” He nipped, then licked her inner thigh, slowly inching his way towards her pussy. He kissed over the top of her slit, worming his tongue between her folds. She sucked in her breath and grasped the duvet in her fists. Her eyes closed and her lower lip tucked between her teeth as she tried to focus on not making any sound, instead of the sweet sensation of his tongue pressing against her clit. It was sheer torture. The more she tried to hold back, to keep it all in, the more he teased her.

“Ohmigod,” she whimpered, her breathing quickening as he sucked her clit into his mouth. Gently, he nipped at the delicate bundle of nerves, causing her inner walls to tighten and ache. The desire to feel him inside her, thrusting in and out, outweighed her concerns over whether or not the room was bugged. If it was, well, Alana was already getting an earful. Why not just...she moaned as Damien drew his head up just enough to blow gently across her wet, aching flesh. “I swear to God Damien, if you leave me like this I will-”

He gathered her close, capturing her mouth in a kiss. She doesn't care that she can taste herself on his lips. It adds fuel to the fire burning in her lower abdomen. Having the bulge in his pants press against her throbbing pussy as his tongue teases in and out of her mouth also adds to the fire. “Need you,” she managed to mumble around the kiss. “Like....now.”

“Hm,” Damien raised up on one arm and stared down at her. One hand brushed a few strands hair off her face. “You know what I love most about kissing you?”

“That it leads to other stuff?” Hint, hint. Lose the pants.

“No,” he laughed. “Well, yes, but that's not what I was going to say.” He leaned down and kissed her again. Sweeter and slower than any of the other times. “You taste like home.”

#choices perfect match #damien x mc #mc x damien

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vannahfanfics · 5 years

Text

Laundry Day

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: FullMetal Alchemist

Characters: Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye

Riza hummed under her breath quietly as she stood in front of the dryer, carefully folding laundry and placing it in a basket to bring to the bedroom. She smiled slightly as she picked up one of Roy's dress shirts; although it has just been through the wash, it still smelled a little bit like him. She couldn’t help but bring it to her face and breathe in deeply. It smelled like cologne with a hint of smoke. It smelled like her husband. Roy…

She jumped as she heard the front door opening, and she hastily withdrew the shirt from her face and acted like she was doing laundry normally. She grew slightly self-conscious as she heard Roy walking around the apartment. Her nose twitched as she continued to fold the laundry, her heart rate quickening as his footsteps drew closer. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled as the door slowly eased open, and a black-haired head popped out from behind the door.

“Hi. I’m just doing this last bit of laundry,” she smiled wider as he came strolling into the room. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle, resting his chin on her shoulder as he watched her fold another one of his shirts.

“You know, I feel bad that you do the laundry all the time,” he frowned as he pressed a kiss into her neck. Thankfully, Riza was practiced in her military bearing, so she was able to squash the urge to squirm and giggle like a teenage girl. He makes a mess of me… she thought with a small smile as she placed the folded shirt into the basket and closed the dryer. Before she could retrieve the basket, Roy grabbed her by the hips and slowly turned her around. “Where's my welcome home kiss?” he purred, and Riza rolled her eyes as he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. Riza smiled and angled her head slightly to return the kiss, pressing herself against him for a brief moment.

“You know,” she smirked when she pulled back, glancing down at the pile of dirty clothes on the tiled floor. “I have a few more loads. Why don’t you help me?” she suggested, and Roy's eyebrows crept up his forehead. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, glancing down at the dirty clothes, and Riza was surprised to find a look of hesitation forming on his features. “Do you… know how to do laundry?” she asked slowly, and she was even more surprised to see his cheeks turning pink.

“Of course!” he said indignantly, and Riza smirked slightly. This is going to be fun, she thought as she untangled herself from him and bent down to begin loading the dirty clothes into the washing machine. She was acutely aware of Roy staring at her behind, and she was glad it was her backside to him so he wouldn’t see her blushing. She hastily tossed the last of the clothes into the washing machine before straightening up and closing the door.

“All right. Tell me, what now?” she asked as she put her hands on her hips and turned back to him. His slightly reddened face suddenly turned pale as he stared at the machine like it was some foreign object. He shuffled over, rubbing his hands together.

“You, uh, put detergent in it, obviously,” he laughed nervously. When Riza prompted him to pick one of the four large containers sitting on the washing machine, he made a wheezing sound and stared at the bottles. “Um. Um. Uh,” he sputtered as he reached hesitantly for a bottle, staring out of the corners of his eyes at Riza to try and read her expression. She kept her face still as stone, despite the fact that she wanted nothing more but to laugh. He finally chose one, and jumped when she cleared her throat loudly.

“Honey, that’s bleach. I don’t recommend pouring that in there,” she mused as the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. He blushed darkly and hastily let go of the bottle, grabbing the one next to it. “There you go,” she chuckled, and he pulled the bottle forward and grabbed the little cup attached to the lid. She could hear him muttering under his breath as he measured the detergent and pulled out the slot to pour the viscous liquid into the appropriate chamber. He closed the slot and set the cup down, slightly pleased with himself.

“Great. Now, do you know which setting to put it on?” she smiled as she powered on the washing machine, and the smile vanished from Roy's face instantaneously. He reached up warily and began cycling through the various options, growing increasingly unnerved. He settled on one, and Riza snickered as she peered over his shoulder.

“No, no, we only use that for heavy loads like the bedsheets,” she sighed and began flipping the dial to the right setting. Roy looked doubtfully into the loaded washing machine.

“But that’s a lot of clothes…” he protested meekly as Riza switched to the right setting and started the machine. As the drum began whirling and water poured into the chamber, Riza smiled and patted him reassuringly on that back.

“It can look like that to a rookie,” she mused. Roy bristled, whirling around as she grabbed the full basket of clean clothes and began heading to the bedroom.

“I am not a rookie! I’ve just never worked on this washing machine,” he protested as he stomped after her. Riza smiled as she set the basket down on the edge of the bed and walked to the closet to grab a handful of hangers. She began stringing the clothes onto the hangers, while Roy hovered over her shoulder. “Is it always this much work?” he inquired as he grabbed a hanger and placed one of his shirts onto it. He left it unbuttoned, so he frowned when he lifted it up and it slid right off.

“Yes, it is,” she laughed slightly and reached over to place the shirt back on the hanger, buttoning the top button so it would hold. Roy held it up and nodded in slight appreciation. After they finished hanging the clothes, with Riza making slight modifications to Roy's work, she returned the empty basket to the laundry room.

“So, what now?” he inquired.

“Now, we wait,” she smiled at him, and she raised an eyebrow as he smiled alluringly and wound his arms around her waist.

“I’ve got an idea or two about what we can do to pass the time…” he murmured and pulled her up against him, and in response she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and curled her fingers into the ends of his midnight-black hair.

“Oh? That so? Enlighten me,” she answered, and he smiled before leaning down to press his lips against her own. Riza’s eyes drifted closed, and she sighed lightly as Roy ran his hands up and down her sides while kissing her deeper. “I should have you help me do laundry more often,” she joked as he pulled away to plant kisses down the nape of her neck, and she felt him chuckling as she wrapped her arms around his broad, strong back.

After their hour was up, Roy and Riza returned to the laundry room, and she opened the dryer to begin folding the clothes. Roy watched her for a minute, then blinked and picked up a shirt to begin clumsily folding it. He frowned deeply and presented the finished product to Riza, who just smiled and reached up to pat him on the head. “It’s a good thing that you’re pretty,” she chuckled teasingly.

“Come on. I’m trying here. I am your superior and you should respect me! Not tease me!” he pouted at her, and she smiled before laying the shirt out on top of the dryer and showing him how to properly fold it. He watched her intently, then tried to replicate it with another shirt. “Better?” he asked hopefully.

“Better,” she smiled and set the shirt in the basket. Roy bent down to get another shirt, then stared thoughtfully at the pile of clean clothes in the dryer. She cried out in alarm as he abruptly grabbed the clothes and flung then over her, and the next thing she knew the world was whirling around her. She landed on something soft and the warm, fluffy clothes rained down around her. As the clothes settled, she looked down to see that Roy had pulled her down to the ground and she was laying on top of him. “What are you doing?” she blinked down at him.

“Enjoying the laundry,” he remarked with a snicker, blowing a dress sock off his face. It was nice and warm, between Roy's body heat and the warm clothes scattered over them.

“Now I have to clean them all over again,” she sighed as she wrapped her arms around him. Roy smiled and continued holding her hips, lightly running his index fingers up and down the small of her back.

“That’s okay. I enjoy doing laundry with you,” he smiled up at her.

“Really? Even though you’re terrible at it?” she laughed, and he pouted up at her bitterly. “Don’t worry. Practice makes perfect,” she consoled him teasingly and gave him a peck on the nose.

“So you’re saying we should do this more often?” he smiled.

“Definitely,” she laughed, and then he put a hand on the back of her head to pull her into a kiss. Definitely. I want to do all my laundry with you, Roy… Now and forever.

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#fullmetal alchemist #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood #royai #royza #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #rizaxroy #royxriza #fluff #romance #cutesy #oneshot #oneshot collection #oneshots #fanfic #fanfics #fanfiction

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marvelous-imagining · 7 years

Text

Wrong

MASTERLIST

A/N: I’M SORRY IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I’VE LAST UPDATED THIS STORY!!! I can’t promise you it won’t happen again. Anyway... Remember when I said I didn’t want to rush into anything and take things slow with this story? Well, I don’t know how that worked out, haha. I hope you like this part.

Pairing: professor!Chris Evans x stdent!reader

Words: 2,273

Warning: cursing

Previously: Part 5

Part 6

Walking up to Professor Evans's classroom, you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what was about to happen.

You leaned against the wall next to the door leading to the classroom and waited until students started rushing out. When the largest wave of peole passed, you looked inside the room, seeing the professor talking with a student.

You walked inside, letting the door close as you started nearing the front of the class. Professor Evans glanced in your direction and sent you a small smile before finishing whatever he was discussing with the student. The student then thanked the professor and left, closing the door behind them.

You looked at the professor and he walked behind his desk, pulling a chair right next to his and inviting you to sit. You walked over to him slowly and sat down, setting your bag on the edge of his desk before turning to him. He opened up his folder and started searching through it.

"So... What did you do today?" He asked carefully, making some conversation to fill in the silence.

"Just hung out with some friends," you replied, looking down at your lap.

He hummed in response and made no further questions.

As he continued looking through different papers inside the folder, your mind wandered to what Carly and Dave had told you when you mentioned your little meeting with your English professor.

***

"He asked you to meet him in his classroom? Alone?"

You nodded.

"Oh, my God..." Dave sighed. "He's finally going to fuck you on his desk!"

"He totally is!" Carly joined in, laughing as she and Dave high fived.

You groaned and lied down on your bed. You placed your hands over your face and told them, "Fuck off, guys."

"But seriously, why would he ask you to meet him in private?"

"He wants to talk to me about my assignment. Apparently it's pretty shit."

"Really? Let me read it," Dave said.

"No," you laughed. "It's really bad."

Dave looked at Carly and placed a hand over the side of his mouth as if he could block his voice from you. "Wanna bet she wrote it badly on purpose?"

You rolled your eyes, picked up your pillow and threw it at him, something you seemed to do quite often.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she did."

"Seriously, you guys suck," you muttered angrily and sat back up, looking over at them to see them stifling their giggles. "He just wants to show me what's wrong with the assignment."

"Why would he do it in person, though?" Dave asked. "He doesn't do that with his other students."

"How do you know? And besides, maybe I'm just really bad and everyone else writes just fine."

"No," he said, very adamant to destroy your argument. "He sent me his comment via e-mail. And I had some problems with my writing."

"Yeah... Professors don't usually do this," Carly said, seeming very serious. "Oh, man... I wish Mr Feng did that..." She sighed dreamily and laid her head on Dave's shoulder.

"Ugh, you girls and your hormones..."

"Don't you dare, Dave," Carly warned, covering his mouth with her palm before he could continue.

You laughed as Dave licked Carly's palm which made her pull away with a squeal.

"Well, maybe I just seem like a lost cause and he wants to help." You decided to go back to the thing you had been discussing.

"No." Dave shook his head. "He just wants to fuck."

You walked over to him and lightly punched his arm before hitting the back of his head with the pillow you had previously thrown his way.

***

"Y/N?"

Your head snapped to your professor who was looking at you over his glasses. You let out a sheepish chuckle and shook your head in embarrassment. You apologized, looking back up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth. You just realized what he called you.

"Y/N?" You asked, smiling. "You've never called me by my first name before."

Mentally, your mind was screaming at you to shut up, telling you it wasn't that big of a deal but your body told you other wise. For some reason, having him call you by your first name made your body tingle all over and your stomach erupt with butterflies.

"Oh, sorry," he apologized. "It's just... Meeting after hours makes it feel less formal. As if there were different rules," he said quietly, eyeing you carefully.

You felt your face heat up at the tone in his voice. It sounded slightly suggestive but you pushed those thoughts aside and ran your hand over your hair. "Yeah, I get what you mean, Chris," You said with a small smile on your face. "I've heard people call you that. Chris suits you."

He smiled. "Thank you. I've grown pretty accustomed to it."

You chuckled and shook your head slightly. "So... what did you say?"

"I said you need to pay more attention to what you write. For example, there are way too many spelling mistakes, a lot of wrong usage of many words... I'm sure you can do better than this, Y/N," he said, resting his arm over the backrest of the chair you were sat on. "You wouldn't have gotten into College if you couldn't."

You nodded, trying to ignore the warm feeling of having his arm behind your back from distracting you. "Like I said, I've had a lot on my mind, Chris." You said his name slowly, looking him straight in the eye. His face was very close to yours, not as close as it had been the day it had rained and you two shared an umbrella but still he was very close. "I've been distracted."

"It seems like you're always distracted," he noted, looking down at the paper in front of you two. You followed his gaze and saw that he had highlighted some parts of the text. "You always seem to be in a whole other world during lessons..."

Yeah, a world where it's possible for you to fuck me on this very desk we are sat at, you thought, biting your lip to remain quiet.

"What's going on? Is there something I can do?"

Again, fuck me on this very desk we are sat at.

You shook your head and looked down. "It's fine, I just need to get a hold of myself. Fix this situation that's going on." You sighed, knowing you were mostly talking to yourself. You needed to make yourself believe that somehow, maybe saying it aloud would help...

"Sometimes you don't need to fix things," he said gently, tilting his head to meet your gaze. "Sometimes you just need to accept things as they are and... learn to live with them."

You lifted your head up to look at him again, seeing how his eyes were running over your features. Your cheeks warmed up under his gaze and you found your breathing hitching in your throat. You licked your lips that suddenly felt dryer and bit on your bottom lip, seeing his eyes landing on your mouth.

"Other times all you can do is give in..."

"Which approach do you think I should use for this situation?" You asked curiously, gulping as you saw his gaze moving back up your face, eyes meeting yours.

"It doesn't seem like there is much to fix..." He said quietly, shaking his head. "There's not much we can do."

"W-we?" You asked, barely making any noise as your nerves took the best of you. You had a strong feeling he knew exactly what you were talking about.

Chris placed his elbow on the desk, forearm resting on the wooden surface as he pursed his lips together. "Yes, we," he said quietly. "There's not much we can do."

You looked at his hand as you heard him tapping his fingers on his desk. You sighed, seeing the veins popping on his hand and swallowed thickly before looking up at him. He was already staring into your eyes and you found yourself leaning in closer automatically.

"There are a few things we could do," you said lowly, eyes widening slightly at the words that slipped out of your mouth. You hadn't planned on saying them, you hadn't even thought about them, they just fell out.

You saw a small smile appearing on Chris's lips and he chuckled. "Yeah, I can think of a few..."

You felt his hand inching closer to your arm and you watched closely as his fingers came in contact with your skin. You shuddered slightly, feeling them wrap around your wrist. You felt his breath fanning your neck and his forehead rested on the side of your head. You heard his breathing was a lot less calm than it had been a few seconds before, yours was the same.

You leaned into his touch, turning your head ever so slightly so your nose almost grazed his. You closed your eyes, feeling your whole body burning with the need you had for him. You had never gotten so close to him and now that you had, you didn't want to stop and backtrack.

"Y/N," he whispered your name, making it your new favorite sound in the world. "Are you sure you—"

Before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him by pressing your lips against his, humming as you finally got to taste them. You had been dreaming of this moment for some time now, feeling his lips on yours and his fingertips on your skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck and his wheeled chair moved a little bit towards you, his hands landing on your hips.

You let out a sigh as you pulled away to breathe but before you could properly catch your breath, Chris already pulled you back to him, moving his lips against yours with such passion you were bound to melt in his arms.

His tongue pressed against your lips and you had no will power to prevent its entrance. Your will power had disappeared the second your lips touched his. There was no going back now, it was happening. You were kissing the man you had been fawning over for a while.

He placed his hands on yours and pulled you up from the chair, pulling you towards him so you could sit on his lap. Your knees made contact with the soft padding of the chair and you lowered yourself on top of him, hands weaving in his hair. You tugged on the strands as his lips moved against yours and he let out a moan.

Suddenly you were lifted off of his lap and placed on the desk in front of him. He pushed off some papers and other supplies off the desk as he stepped between your legs. He placed a hand in the back of your head and wrapped his arm around your back as he brought his lips on yours again.

Your hands ran down his chest and back up again, holding his face in your hands as he continued kissing you, making you yearn for more.

He moved forward, making you lean back and slap a hand on the desk for leverage only to push something off the desk and hearing the noise of glass breaking.

You pulled away, apologizing for breaking something but he brushed it off. Instead, he kissed your lips before moving down your neck.

Your arms wrapped around his neck once again and you turned your head to the side, glancing down at the object you had pushed off the desk. Your stomach dropped and suddenly felt your breathing stopping as you saw it was a picture frame. Not just any frame, a frame of Chris and his wife on their wedding day.

Your hands were quickly pressed on his chest and you pushed him away. He pulled back, a worried expression taking over his face. "Y/N? What's wrong?" He asked, placing a hand on your thigh which you just pushed away harshly and hopped off the desk.

You ran a hand over your face and let out a sigh of frustration. You took your belongings from the chair you had been sitting on. "I can't... We... We're not supposed to do this," you muttered, voice shaking as you circled the desk, lifting the broken picture frame and placing it on the desk. You looked up to see Chris's gaze fall down to the picture and in an instant, his worried expression turns into a guilty one. "I'm... Fuck!" You exclaimed, tugging at your hair. "I should go," you said and started running up to the door. Before you closed it, you glanced back at Chris who was now sat on his desk with his head in his hands. You quickly exited the room and slammed the door closed, running to the bathrooms in the fear of running into a teacher or another faculty member.

You went into one of the stalls, putting down the lid of the toilet and sat down. You stayed silent and frozen for a while, just staring ahead of you while processing what had just happened. Soon a couple of tears were silently rolling down your cheeks and you angrily wiped them off your face. You muttered a string of curses under your breath as your mind flooded with the images of what you had run out on. Granted, it had only been about a minute since it had happened but you could still feel the ghost of his touch and kisses on your body. And you were sure that wouldn't stop for a long time.

Next: Part 7

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