#yesterday my arm hurt to where just propping it up on a pillow not straining or tensing my muscles at all still had it throbbing with pain

[ellabswilliamson]

I worked out too hard Sat and spent all of Sun in pain bc I strained my arm tendons. Still hurts tbh

[proserpina-magnus]

hi! i love your writing so much and am wondering if you could do a regulus x reader smut where it's the readers first time (innocence kink to the max also praise) and she is worried she wont be good?

Bestie I sorta forgot to add a few of the main points, but I included the majority so I hope you like it. I made it a tad bit longer then my other blurbs so I hope that makes up for it! xoxo

Regulus Black And Thigh Fucking [ + major innocence kink ]

[ Warning: fem!reader, innocences kink, daddy kink, size difference, thigh fucking, slight subspace, slight tit sucking, use of the words “bunny” & “Angel” ]

Word count: 2.2k

THIS IS NOT EDITED

You felt a burning itch encase your bottom half, your legs wobbly as you opened the door to Regulus dorm. You peaked your head in, looking around for him. Regulus turned his head at the sound, a gentle smile forming on his lips as he realized who opened the door.

"Hi Angel, come in," Regulus motioned, he sat on his bed, a book between his fingers before closing it and setting it softly to the side.

Regulus waited patiently as you walked into the colder room, turning slightly so you can close the door. You walked over to where he sat, a guilty remorse present on your face.

"What's wrong?" Regulus worriedly asked, his legs spreading open so he can pull you in between them. His hands rub your hips, dipping to hold your back firmly.

"It hurts.." you mumble, not sure why you had felt this desperate need. Regulus held worry in his eyes, he pushed you back slightly so he could look over you.

"What hurts? Did you fall?" He asked, he couldn't find any visible wounds. Regulus wondered if you had started your period and was looking for some sympathy, his hand comes to rub your stomach.

"No... not m'period," you mumble, Regulus looked up towards your eyes with a confused expression. "I don't know what's wrong bunny, you have to tell me,"

You feel embarrassed, not knowing how to phrase your predicament. Instead, you take his hand and guide it under your skirt. You whimper as you place his hand against your soaked panties.

"Right there," you whisper, Regulus eyes look down slowly and follow the way his hand disappears under the thick fabric. His eyes slowly closed, a hum on his lips as he rubbed his index finger against the soaked material. You instantly jumped, legs squeezing around his hand as you gripped onto his shoulders.

"Oh baby, when did this start?" Regulus asked, tapping your thighs so you'll loosen up. You followed his instructions, thighs parting for his fingers. He pushed aside the stained material as he feels just how needy you are. When you don't reply, Regulus hand cups your jaw and guides you to look at him. "When did you start feeling like this?" He asked again, noticing the way you become nervous.

"Yesterday. When you were playing quidditch," You tell him, feeling more embarrassment flood your face with red. Tears start to well up in your eyes as you let out a silent cry. "I'm sorry Reggie, I don't know what's wrong with me. Please make it go away,"

Regulus clued into your frantic state, piecing together that you had no clue what was going on. He took responsibility for this, feeling guilty for not realizing the way you had clung onto him after his quidditch match.

"It's alright bunny, let me help you. I should've realized yesterday, 'm sorry you felt needy all night," Regulus apologized, bringing you into a soft kiss as your fluids dripped onto his fingers. He hadn't even touched you yet and you had been soaking, it was driving him crazy.

"Couldn't sleep daddy, I felt funny," you whispered, not realizing how easy it was for you to fall into a submissive state. Regulus felt his heart squeeze, his cock twitching against his pants at the nickname you've given him.

"Shh, I know baby. Daddy's going to take care of you now, I've got you," Regulus played along, bringing you to the bed as he guided you to lay back. You felt exposed when he unzipped your skirt and slid it down your thighs. Your panties soaked with need, Regulus had to resist letting out a groan.

He helped you out of your shirt and bra, letting out a gentle "tsk" when he saw you cover up. He petted your hair to ease you, his other hand pulling your arm away from your breasts.

"Please don't hide yourself," Regulus asked, his eyes taking a long look at your chest. Your breasts were flushed and swollen, your nipples hard and untouched. Every part of you had been untouched, Regulus let out a content sigh.

"M'sorry daddy, I'm so stupid," you fret, feeling terrible for upsetting him. Regulus let out a gentle coo, his hand resting on your hips as he leaned down to capture your lips in a delicate kiss.

"You're not stupid bunny. I don't want to hear you say that again, do you understand?" He asked, pulling back so he can wipe your tears away. When you nodded, he gave you a soft smile as he tilted your face up with his knuckle.

With his thumb on your chin, he turns your face to the right. You squeeze your eyes shut, nauseous with what he's going to do. Regulus took his time looking over your nude body, sucking on his tongue to calm himself.

"You're so pretty, just wanna use you until you're crying and whimpering for me, would you like that bunny?" Regulus tutted, enjoying the way your thighs closed and rubbed for friction. His hands slide down to your breast, his cold fingers cupping your tit.

"Please Reggie," you begged loosely, just wanting the desperation to ease. Regulus let out a gentle laugh, his fingers running down the side of your torso before he applied pressure just below your navel. "Can't wait to see my cock filling you, probably can't even take it all,"

You felt a twitch of degradation from his words, your body warm as you slid your legs wide open for him. You felt a need to prove him wrong, wanting to be good and take him fully. "No I can take it, I can take daddy's cock," you blabber out, Regulus looked up towards you with a shocked expression.

"Bunny, do you have any idea what you're doing me?" Regulus breathed out, an enchanted look in his eyes as he quickly tugs on your panties. You shake your head, a pout on your lips. Regulus took your smaller hand into his much larger one, dragging it down to place it against his clothed cock. You sat up instantly, eyes wide as it dangled at his large bulge straining against his slacks.

"That's not going to fit," you mumbled, eyes wide like saucers as you keep staring at the full cock pressed under his clothes. Your mouth watered from the thought, Regulus took your face in his hand and tilted it up. He wore a smirk on his face, dipping down to press a kiss against your wettened lips.

"I thought you said you would take me like a good girl?" Regulus kissed down your neck, his hands squeezing your hips. He nipped just below your ear, before whispering lowly; "you wouldn't lie to me would you bunny?"

"Daddy you're too big, what if it hurts?" You protested, stomach squeezing as you thought about the tear. Regulus gave a confident smile into your shoulder, kissing down your chest.

His mouth opened, taken your hardened nub between his lips. You let out a whiny whimper, your fingernails digging into his shoulder.

"Trust me bunny, I would never hurt you. How about I fuck your thighs hm? Rub my cock against your pussy without fucking you full," Regulus offered, his lips moving down your stomach. He kissed just below your navel, his hands firmly against your hips as you squirmed.

"Will it hurt?" You ask, your hands moving to his hair as you pull him back up for a kiss. Regulus kissed you deeply, his hands moving to grip your thighs.

"It's not supposed to, do you want to try it?" He asked, you gave a shaky nod. Regulus kissed you once more, standing up as he discarded his warm jumper. You flexed on your knees, hands obediently pressed to your thighs as you sat and watched.

"Someone's a good girl," Regulus commented, your face warm as you felt another nervous swarm of butterflies in your tummy. "I wanna be your good girl, daddy," you declared, mouth thick with saliva as Regulus slipped out of his shirt. His skin was a light olive colour, you could see the outline of his pelvic bone poking out through his slacks. Your eyes holding a stare with his hard cock.

"You're already my good girl," Regulus said while standing closer, he chuckled when you continued to stare at his bulge. He directed your head up, looking down towards you. "Turn around and prop your ass up,"

You did just that, leaning up to get a small kiss before directing yourself to turn around. You leaned forwards, hands pressed in his mattress as you arched to prop your ass in the air. Regulus let out a long breath at the sight, your wet cunt presented just for him.

He leaned down, blowing cold air against your plump folds. You jerked, not prepared for the way it felt so good against your hot cunt. You felt another bolt of nausea when you heard his belt click open, hearing the shuffle of clothes drop against the floor.

You try and turn back to see his now exposed cock, but Regulus only holds it out of view. "Don't be greedy," He contorts, his fingers moving to push through your folds.

You shrivel, grabbing a pillow as you hide your face in it. Regulus sees the way you tense up, he places a gentle rub on your thigh as he continues to coat his fingers for lubrication.

"Shh, you're doing so well. Sorry I snapped at you bunny, just didn't want to ruin your innocence," He explained, his now wetted hand moving down to your locked thighs. He spreads your liquid in between your thighs, you grow confused at his movements.

"What are you doing daddy?" You whine, feeling faint from how little you're getting pleased. Regulus only breaths out, pumping his cock a few times as he leans down quickly to spit against your folds. You gasp, head turning at the feeling.

"Shh baby, I can't fuck your thighs with no lubrication," Regulus responds, his spit dripping from your cunt. You twitch, turning your head back to lay against the pillow.

"Daddy please, hurts," You mumble through the pillow, Regulus gives a pat to your ass for comfort as he takes his cock and pushes it through your thighs. "I know bunny, please be patient,"

Regulus holds your thighs closed, grinding into your tight thighs as he fucks them fast. You move with his body, gasping each time he slides up and rubs against your swollen clit. After a few more thrusts, he completely switches to rut against your folds.

He's careful not to enter unwanted, taking his time with dragging his wet cock against your puffy cunt. You can't help but let out grateful moans, your body pushing into his for more friction.

"Bunny, fuck keep squeezing your thighs just like that," Regulus let out a heavy groan, his fingers looping under your hipbone as he fucks you back into him. You let out a cry from the sensitivity, clamping your thighs closed for him.

"Feels funny," you whimper, a building sensation of warmth spreading through your stomach. Regulus had to refrain himself from fucking you silly, his clipped nails digging into your warm flesh as he pulls you back to glide against his cock in a deeper pace. "Just let it out bunny, it'll feel good I promise,"

Your moans grow louder, mouth ajar as your eyes shut on impulse. Your clit is swollen with sensitivity, your back arching as you feel every vein from his cock. You have to force yourself to keep your thighs closed, body numb when a greater sensation fills you.

You fall limp from the pressure, hands squeezing weakly at the sheets as you let out a sniffle. Regulus moves his cock back down to your lower thighs, fucking them for his own release.

"So good bunny, you looked so pretty," Regulus praises, his fingers tracing your spine as he gives you a final tug. Your ass flush against his stomach as he comes all over his sheets below you.

"Does it still hurt bunny?" Regulus asked, pulling away with his used cock. He slipped on a pair of briefs, sighing at his sensitivity. You huff, face implanted in the pillow.

"No, daddy made me feel better," you tell him, leaning up with your leftover strength. You turn around, nuzzling yourself to lay against his chest. His hand comes to rub your back, kissing your forehead.

"It's not daddy anymore bunny, I'm Reggie," He corrects, casting a quick charm to clean up the mess left over. You shake your head, eyes shutting from exhaustion.

"No bunny, keep your eyes open for me," Regulus tells you while pulling you back slightly. You give him a longing expression of desperation, eyes drooping slightly.

"I wanna sleep daddy," you whine, head pushing back against his chest. Regulus pulls you back gently, his hand placed firmly against the back of your neck. "No bunny, I'm Reggie,"

"Water," you tell him, biting the inside of your lip as you start to fuzz out of your state. Regulus opens a water bottle, holding it to your lips as he tilts it. You pull back after a few long sips, water dripping down your chin. With a clearer mindset, you feel Regulus dab at your chin with a cloth.

"Thank you, Reggie," you mumble, head falling back against his chest. Regulus heart rams against his chest, thankful that you didn't stay in that state for too long.

"Just taking care of you, bunny. I'm always going to take care of you,"

[littleoddwriter]

Hello dear! Can i request a Roman Sionis X Male!Reader where the reader is a metahuman with the ability of manipulating blood (aka a vampire) and tries to hide it from his lover until Roman finds out when Reader saves him from a mobster? Fluff please + Roman as proud as hell of his lover? Thanks in advance!

Life's Good | Roman Sionis x VampireMale!Reader

I am so sorry it took me so long to finally write this! I'm slowly catching up with the last few requests I've received before my break. I hope you're still interested in this and like what I've done with it (I admit, it got a little away from me because I was super invested in the scenario I came up with, so it is probably less fluffy than you may have wanted, sorry)!

summary; see above.

notes; CW // Blood-Drinking (mild Dub-Con for that at first); Gun Violence; Being Threatened; Murder (not graphic). Vampires; Kind of angsty?; Fluff; Aftercare (non-sexual, but you know, after feeding from someone).

Unlike most people would think you’ve actually been born this way. Your parents were vampires, conceiving you naturally, which of course meant you’d been born a metahuman. You’ve lived quite a normal life, despite the fact that instead of eating, drinking and sleeping like other humans would, you only slept rarely, only ate people food when you had to fit in, and otherwise you fed from humans, drinking their blood. You’d never killed anyone with it, though. Enough people who wanted you to feed from them existed, establishments were you could find them were all around the world. It was a pretty good life.

Still, you usually opted to keep it secret, unsure as to how people might react. While the general opinion of vampires has changed in all these centuries, standing in front of one was still a wholly different thing for most. You understood and respected that.

So when you met Roman – his scent so enticing, you had trouble keeping your fangs in – you stood in front of the question once again. Should you tell him?

Eventually, you decided to go with the flow and see where it’d take you. You didn’t immediately want to ruin your chances with him before you’ve actually gotten to know him at all.

At first it was a casual relationship anyway, no need to tell him your big secret then. But as time went on, your relationship became more serious. You stayed over at his loft more frequently, forced to eat his food and drink his beverages, so as not to let him suspect anything. It didn’t hurt you or anything, it was just unnecessary and you’d never get really used to, well, actual food and such. All the different textures and tastes and what you could do with what to change it. It was fascinating, but not exactly your favourite thing.

Of course, one fateful day it had all come to a head.

You had just admitted to yourself that you loved Roman a couple of weeks ago, not daring to say anything to him, as you didn’t fancy ruining what you two had with those three simple, yet powerful words.

Now though, you regretted that decision more than ever, terrified that maybe you would never be able to tell him how you felt.

It all happened so fast, too. One moment, you and Roman were out on the streets, way into the evening, having just had dinner at an expensive restaurant he’d invited you to; and you were laughing, talking about something – you couldn’t remember what – when you turned into an alleyway. In the next moment, a rival mob boss shot at the two of you. Warning shots, missing you both on purpose.

“What the fuck?!” Roman exclaimed, livid, but you could smell the underlying anxiety change his usual scent from when he was enraged. You hated it.

The gang leader – whatwashisface, you could never keep up – stood now in front of you two, having Roman at gunpoint. His men had surrounded you two, pointing their guns at both of you.

“What do you want?” Sionis spat at the other mob boss, glaring at him with a piercing, wild look in his eyes.

You stayed silent, your hands raised out of instinct. The bullets wouldn’t be able to kill you, unless they were specifically made for it, but that was so unlikely, you weren’t overly worried. You were concerned about Roman, though, anxious that this might have been it.

“Set an example, that’s what. You can’t scare us into submission. You can’t control us. You really think getting a hold of the East End would give you enough power to do that? Fuck you, I say!” the leader yelled.

“Well, fucking go on then if you’re really so tough! Or are you only bark and no bite? Cowardly ambushing me in private like that, I’m inclined to believe you are nothing but a talker. You can’t scare me either, you fuck.” You really wished Roman would shut up for once, lest he’d really get himself killed this time.

Your mind was racing with all possible outcomes this situation could bring. Only one was sure to get Roman out alive; and boy were you glad you’ve fed from someone yesterday.

Even though you had never killed anyone and didn’t desire to do so, you were ready to do anything for Roman, no matter what. You didn’t care that he’d know then, know that you were a freak of nature, as some hateful people liked to call people like you. You didn’t care that you’d take lives. They weren’t innocent, dared to threaten your love and you just couldn’t see past that.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and concentrated, focusing your abilities into play and onto every single man of this rival gang. It was rare for you to use any of your powers that didn’t exist and activate naturally, like your strength. Your parents had taught you to only use them for self defence and this situation was practically screaming for it.

Snapping your eyes back open, now glowing red, all of the men around you gasped and crumbled, letting their weapons clatter to the ground, grasping at their throats, or chest, trying so hard to save themselves. Moments later, they were all just lifeless bodies, lying around Roman and you, as if you were some victorious kings. And in a way, you were exactly that, weren’t you? Roman was soon to be the King of Gotham after all.

All too suddenly, all the strength left your body, your legs giving out. Roman, despite his apparent shock, caught you, steadied you. Gently, he lowered you to the ground, keeping his arms tightly wound around you.

It had taken a lot more out of you than you had anticipated. You desperately needed to feed.

“Y/N? Baby, hey, look at me,” Roman spoke softly, something only reserved for you, you had come to realise.

With half-lidded eyes, you looked up at him, a strained sound passing your lips. “You okay?” you asked, still unsure if everything had truly worked out the way you thought it would.

He scoffed, “Yes, quit worrying about me. Are you okay? What the fuck was that anyway?”

“Just gotta eat,” you murmured, slurring your words heavily, “Sorry about the- that. I’ll explain later.”

“What do you mean you have to eat? Baby, I can’t follow you. I hope you realise that I’m missing some of the fucking context here,” he chuckled, which bordered on sounding hysterical.

“Blood. Vampire. Now, Roman, or else- fuck. Won’t make it.” Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, your voice just barely above a whisper anymore. Fuck, you hoped he understood. Even more so, you hoped he was okay with it and that maybe he liked you enough to save your life. You didn’t exactly fancy feeding from him, when he was basically pressured into it. But he had a choice, you told yourself.

When you were slowly lifted up a bit and felt skin against your lips, you forced all your last strength to open your mouth – your fangs had automatically unsheathed when you unleashed your powers – and bite down.

The first taste of Roman was as intoxicating and overwhelming as you had always fantasised it would be. A shaky moan came out of him when you started sucking in earnest. Pretty quickly, you regained more and more strength, feeling increasingly less dead. You cupped the other side of Roman’s neck with your hand and pulled him further in. Shit, you couldn’t possibly get enough.

After a few, long moments, you felt Roman push against you, as well as pulling at your clothes, calling your name. Reluctantly, and almost as if you were just waking up from a trance, you let up and licked up the excess blood on his neck, simultaneously licking his wounds closed.

Roman was breathing heavily, and you were still feeling out of it, as you two just kneeled in this alley, holding each other, amidst the dead bodies of Sionis’ former rivals. It was bizarre.

“I think we should go home,” Roman said eventually, his voice sounded so soft, as if he was barely present in the real world.

You nodded and got up, helping Roman to do the same. He was swaying a little and this time you were the one who steadied him. Drinking someone’s blood always took a toll on both parties and you knew you had taken more from him than you usually dared to do with anyone. It made you feel guilty. You had to make it up to him later – if he still wanted you then – that was for sure.

When you had arrived at Roman’s loft, you helped him lie down on his chaise longue, legs propped up on one of his many pillows, to help his blood flow to where it was most needed. Then you went over to the kitchen to get him a glass of orange juice and an energy bar.

Roman nodded in thanks when you pressed either item in his hands, standing above him. You felt so uncomfortable, didn’t quite know what to do with your hands, or if you were even supposed to still be here. He’s been so unusually quiet the entire time, albeit it was most likely due to shock and blood loss.

“So, you’re a vampire.” Roman stated, looking at you, and you hated that you couldn’t place his expression into any kind of category. You just nodded in answer. “Right. And why exactly didn’t I know?”

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times, looking for the right words. “I was afraid of losing you over it,” you settled on telling the truth eventually.

Again, Roman only nodded; his expression was still so indecipherable, but then a certain shine caught in his eyes. You’ve only witnessed it a couple of times thus far.

“You killed for me,” he practically gasped. “Have you killed before? Being a vampire and all, I’d presume you have.”

You shook your head, “No, that was the first time, actually.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. Then, in an instant, his expression morphed into something prideful, a huge grin plastered on his face, his eyes brighter than any stars you’ve seen in the sky above – it was breathtaking. “You killed for me,” he repeated, sitting upright, throwing his legs over the side of the chaise longue, planting his feet on the ground.

“Y-yeah, I did,” you replied, a weak chuckle leaving you. You still couldn’t quite believe that you’ve done it, especially when you spared a thought on how it made you feel – powerful, so far above others, good.

“I can’t fucking believe you. Fuck, you’re a dream come true, my little prince! You’re so special. A vampire! And you killed for me, because-“ He couldn’t finish it, realisation dawning on him, you could see it in his eyes, in the way his smile slowly vanished.

“Because I love you, yes. I couldn’t lose you over some stupid mob boss who thought he could ambush you like that.”

Roman licked his lips and nodded, placed the empty glass and half eaten energy bar on the table in front of him, and got up.

“I’m proud of you,” he then said, taking you by surprise.

“What? Why?”

“For not letting your fears get in your way. You were afraid of losing me for being a vampire, but you were probably even more terrified of losing me to my mortality. And you pushed through it. Almost fucking killed yourself, only to save me. I’m proud of you for doing that. I’m grateful, too, naturally.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Thanks, Roman,” you snickered.

Instead of continuing the conversation, Roman pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist. Putting your arms around his shoulders, you kissed him back, hoping to show him just how grateful you were with that single kiss.

Then you remembered your guilt from before and broke it. Roman glared at you for a moment. “What?”

“You never gave your consent, I- I fed from you and you never-“

“I did. By offering myself to you. I had a choice, you know? So quit it. You’re not guilty of anything, my boy. And just so you know, I’ll fucking kill you if you ever feed from anyone else again, ‘kay?” He was smirking, but his eyes had an edge to them, which let you know that he was serious about his threat.

Giving a short laugh, you nodded and kissed him again. Life really was good.

[tommybaholland]

may I have some hcs for how noya, suga, suna, and maybe??? tsuki (I didn't see him in your list of characters you currently write for, so I wasn't sure if you would write for him if I requested him, so I understand if you don't) react to their s/o who's in a sports team (in high school if possible unless you prefer to age them up I understand!) too (I'm not specifying/choosing so other readers can feel included!) injuring their knee during practice, but not taking it seriously and they just limp around everywhere instead of going to the doctor or trying to do something to feel better. I went too hard on badminton practice yesterday and I literally cannot bend, or put weight on my knee right now so I'm just limping around cause I'm too scared to ask my mom if she can take me to the hospital sjjjdjshs. Don't be like me pls🧍‍♀️as someone who's injured several muscles over 2 times I am begging to take this seriously if you ever get injured, I hope you're taking care of yourself!! :))

when their s/o tries to hide an injury

featuring: nishinoya, sugawara, and suna

yes, unfortunately, i don’t write for tsukki right now, but here are the other three :) i’ll let the writing do the talking, but take it easy and i hope you feel better soon! 

nishinoya

he’s probably the least observant and that doesn’t mean he can’t take a hint when something’s wrong with you

but he usually doesn’t find out about it until after something happens 

you two have quite the playful relationship and are no strangers to playing fighting or jumping onto each other

one day at school, he snuck up behind you to hop onto your back as he often did 

and normally you wouldn’t mind and can handle it because he’s as light as a feather 

but today your back didn’t take it so well as you let out a strained gasped at feeling his weight put pressure onto it 

“hey, my beautiful, sweet, gorgeous-- hey, are you okay? did i hurt you?”

you knew you were going to have to have this conversation with him eventually but of course, you were too late

you wince as you try to stand up straight again, explaining that your back was already hurting from practice

“oh, well, then you should probably go see the nurse. can’t have you hurting, gorgeous.”

you promise him that it’s okay and you probably just need to stretch it out later

he hesitantly accepts your answer, but worries about you all-day long

it makes him usually quiet 

so he decides that he can’t let you tolerate your pain

on your way to the gym after school for practice, you find him waiting outside 

“you can’t practice today, babe.”

you actually get a little annoyed at him for trying to tell you what you can and can’t do

“oh, you’re fine? okay, then-- oops, i dropped my pen. can you pick it up for me? it’s closer to you.”

you knew where this was going 

but your back said otherwise and you barely hinged forward before it felt like someone was literally stabbing you in the back

“see? you can barely bend over. i’m taking you to the nurse or a doctor or something so you can get better.”

he grabs your hand and starts leading you away when you stop and ask him about your practice and volleyball

“i talked to the coach before you got here and they agree with me. i can miss one day of practice. the rest of them would probably do the same for their s/o and besides most of them still suck at receiving so they can practice that and serving at the same time!”

you still don’t look convinced so he brings you closer to him by tugging lightly on the bottom of your school uniform

“don’t worry, beautiful. i got it all sorted out, okay?” 

you finally nod and he seals his promise with a small kiss 

“listen, you’re my strong, beautiful, gorgeous, smart s/o and i love you! i’ll try to pay more attention to you but i need you to let me know when you’re hurting..”

he couldn’t let you get away with a small scolding bc his oblivious ass loves you too much 

sugawara

he observes but tries not to make a big deal out of it or bring it up in a confrontational way 

you had a slight limp on the way to school and on the way home with him after both of your practices finished

he invited you over to hang out for a bit before your curfew and he notices that you struggled a little to sit down next to him on his bed like you were in pain

“sugar, are you alright?” he asked, his hand rubbing across your back

you tell him you’re fine

“okay...are you sure? i’m pretty sure you’ve been limping this entire day and just now it looked like it hurt to sit down.”

you admit that your hip has been bothering you ever since practice the day before and you thought it would just get better over time 

“well, how bad is the pain?”

it’s not too bad, you think

he has you lay down and he tries to examine you a bit himself

“does it hurt when i lift your leg like this?”

he slowly tries to lift it to a ninety-degree angle but a sharp pain shoots right into your hip 

you wince and tense up at the pain 

he frowns as he immediately puts your leg down, “it’s only your hip, right? your knee doesn’t hurt or anything?”

you shake your head, still tense from the pain that it’s causing you 

he lays down next to you, rubbing a soothing hand up and down you arm, “aww, i’m sorry it hurts so much, sweetness, but-- wait, you didn’t go to practice like this did you?  

well, the karma was certainly hitting

he sighs, “babe, why would you-- never mind, i think you need to go see the doctor.”

that’s when the tears start to fall

he pulls you into his arms upon seeing your tears, “i know you don’t wanna go, sweetheart, but you need to get this checked out. i just hate seeing you in so much pain and they can help you feel better.” 

you hate the doctor

it just makes you just feel like more of a helpless burden 

“you’re not a burden, sugar. this looks serious and you shouldn’t be in so much pain. i don’t think we should let it go any longer so let’s get you bundled up in some of my sweatpants and that one sweater you like. i’ll take you and be there for you the entire time, okay?” 

gives you a few reassuring kisses and lets you lay there with him for a bit longer before you get ready to go

he would never let his sweet s/o suffer and always stays true to his word 

and you bet that he’ll be there when you’re confined to bed rest, making sure you’re not overexerting yourself so he can see your beautiful smile again

suna

he’s the most observant out of these three and won’t hesitate to ask about it

he didn’t see you much during the day at school but he walked you home almost every day after practice and usually ended up staying for dinner

so he always had that to look forward to

he was surprised when he got a glance of you outside the gym earlier than normal 

and he really got curious when he saw how off-balanced and wobbly you seemed

you waited outside for him, not wanting to interrupt practice 

you had skipped your own practice that day, seeing that nobody knew you had hurt your knee 

but you knew suna would find out eventually so you were just trying to figure out what to tell him 

“hey, so when were you going to tell me that you’re hurt?”

he was so quiet and stealthy that you didn’t even notice him standing there with all his stuff, ready to leave for the day

he was never less than confrontational

“and don’t try to hide it from me, babe. i can see the limp in your step.”

your knee has been hurting since practice the other day and it wasn’t getting any better

“i see. have you tried icing it or anything?”

the habitual blank expression in his face had turned downward as you shook your head

“baby, how many times do i have to tell you? you can’t just let things like this go. it’s not good for you.” 

you tell him not to tell your parents or make you go to the doctor because it doesn’t hurt that bad

“of course. i can’t make you do anything, but let’s at least try putting some ice on it and elevating it first, okay?” 

you agree and then he tries to pick you up, insisting on carrying you all the way home 

“babe, i can do it. i’ve got a strong core, remember?”

you’re still refusing him like, ‘pls chill, i’m not dying’

“okay, but hold onto me when you need. and here, do you want to wear this? it’s a bit cold out.”

he gives you his team jacket to wear 

you begin walking and you realize you’re more unsteady than you thought

he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, and has you wrap an arm around his shoulders so he can steady you a little more

once you get to his house, he gets you all set up in his bed with ice and your leg propped up on a few pillows 

then he makes sure you’re all cozy with plenty of blankets and him snuggled up beside you

he doesn’t look like it but he loves to dote on you even when you’re being stubborn <3

hold on haikyuu night!! there’s more if you want to request..

[frostedfaves]

Repercussions (13)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x dark!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Wesley performs at-home surgery on you, and Natasha and Wanda remind you who’s in charge from the other side of the world.

Warnings: dark themes, mentions of stitches, poorly written medical stuff, mild injury, implied nudity, smut 18+ ONLY (cyber sex, implied masturbation and overstimulation, sex toy use and penetration)

A/N: let’s not even talk about the fact that I fully intended on not ending another odd numbered chapter with smut and then did it anyway. but also feel free to thank me, as this is (possibly 👀) the last time I’ll be able to include any smut at all so...

Previous part

-

The ringing of a phone broke the silence of the room, and you groaned against the pillow when you realized it was your iPad. Adjusting the covers and rolling over to one of the nightstands, you attempted to wipe the sleepiness away from your eyes before answering the FaceTime call.

“Printsessa!”

You grinned as Natasha and Wanda appeared on the screen, waving and laughing a bit when they waved back with even bigger smiles.

“The most beautiful women in the world! I see that you’ve landed safely.”

“Yep. Just got in the safe house and this one couldn’t wait to see your face again.” Natasha teasingly nudged Wanda’s shoulder, chuckling when she rolled her eyes and pushed back. “But I’m thinking she’s not the only one missing a girlfriend. Is that my shirt?”

“And Wanda’s scrunchie.” You lifted your wrist for her to see and Wanda cooed at you.

“That’s adorable, baby. So how was yesterday? No trouble with Wesley, right?”

“It’s been incredible! We got to play our favorite card games and watch one of our old shows, and today he’s going to make my favorite omelette!”

“You have a favorite omelette?”

“Wes makes his just like my favorite diner in my hometown. I don’t know how he does it, but it’s amazing every time.” You shrugged, relaxing your shoulders as you exhaled in the form of a happy sigh. “I can’t thank you both enough for bringing him here.”

“We just want to see you happy, printsessa,” Natasha told you with a soft smile that faded as she yawned. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we should get some sleep before we need to get out there in the morning.”

“Wait!” Wanda cut in before you could respond, her lips forming a smirk. “Let us see you.”

You playfully rolled your eyes with a shake of your head before standing up and propping up the iPad against the lamp on the nightstand. Stepping back to bring your full form into the frame, you made a big show of slowly stripping away Natasha’s sleep shirt as they cheered, even louder once they realized you weren’t wearing underwear.

“I kind of regret this now,” Wanda sighed, and you laughed.

“At least you have someone! I just have a room full of fun stuff that I’m not even allowed to use,” you pouted.

“Maybe we’ll change that in a few days. Maybe,” Natasha emphasized when you gasped. “Okay pretty baby, we’ll call again soon.”

“Okay, love you!”

You hung up before either of them could respond, shifting over to Apple music and playing the most rated R and sexual playlist you could find, wanting them to assume you were thinking of them in the shower. You were also hoping it would set the mood, leading them to tire each other out and sleep longer.

You could barely hide the proud smile that appeared on your features when you found out through the bugging device that your plan worked.

“Hey, kiddo!” Wes called as you entered the kitchen, hugging you briefly.

“Hey. Is that what I think it is?”

“You mean the special breakfast you specifically requested and threatened me over?” He raised his eyebrow and faced you as you climbed onto the counter, both of you laughing after a moment. “So how’d it go? Sleeping yet?”

“Like babies. We can head down after we eat.”

-

The two of you made your way to the basement after breakfast, and you led Wesley to the game room first to give him an overly enthusiastic tour of the space, grateful when he caught on fast and played along. You then pulled him away from a pinball machine to bring him to the TV area, pushing him toward the couch as you grabbed the remote from the entertainment area.

“Can’t believe you dangled a pinball game in my face just to snatch it away,” he joked.

“We can go back, dummy. I just had to do that because they know I’m pretty attached to that part of the house,” you told him as you looked for a movie to distract yourself from what was coming, which wasn’t easy with Wesley pulling a satchel of tools from his oversized hoodie in your peripheral vision.

“I know this is not the easiest thing to do, but just relax. I brought some numbing cream to help with the pain.”

You leaned against the armrest of the couch to bring yourself in view of the camera, trying not to react to the coldness of the ointment and really attempting to hold it together when he got started on removing the tracker from your leg.

“Would it be easier to just amputate from the knee down?” you grunted, huffing out a breath when he shook his head. “Yeah, I figured.”

It felt like days passed as you gripped a pillow hard enough to break it to deal with the pain that wasn’t numbed, when your cousin finally broke the silence between the two of you.

“Okay, I’m done. How does it feel?”

“Painful,” you mumbled as you examined your stitched skin. “Damn, you’re good.”

“Thanks.”

Wesley handed you the tiny baggie holding the even smaller tracker, and you slid it in your pocket. He moved to get up and you stopped him.

“Where are you going? Let’s finish the movie.”

“Not ready to walk, are you?” You shook your head this time and he laughed. 

When it ended, the two of you made your way back to the game room, choosing one of the racing games so you didn’t have to stand very long. After he beat you in a few races (quite easily, but you wouldn’t admit it to him), you made your way back upstairs to grab a football and head outside.

You were able to walk pretty normally and even lightly jog, but you were dying to relieve the burning patch of healing skin, so you staged a fall as quickly as you could without seeming suspicious. Wesley fussed over you appropriately, helping you into the house to the point of halfway carrying you, and you sighed in relief when you finally got an ice pack on your ankle.

“I’ve never seen someone so happy to fall.”

“Shut up.”

-

It was nearing midnight when you heard from your girlfriends again, being sure to hold an excited smile on your features as you answered the call.

“Good morning! Or is it afternoon?”

“Late afternoon going into early evening but who cares?” Wanda shrugged with a little laugh.

“What are you doing up so late, printsessa?”

“It’s only 11:58,” you replied after checking the time. “And I was hoping you’d call tonight.”

Natasha frowned at the sight of your pout. “Did something happen with Wesley?”

“Yes, but it’s not his fault. I fell in the yard and hurt my ankle, but he helped me inside and keep ice on it all day. He even helped me up here so I didn’t have to strain much on the stairs.”

“Oh baby, you gotta be careful.”

“I know, Wan, I’m sorry.” Your eyes watered a bit while your pout stayed. “I feel a lot better, though! I just wish it didn’t happen. I have so much energy right now and nothing to do with it.”

You frowned when Natasha and Wanda shared a prolonged look, sighing a little so they’d turn their attention back to you. Wanda offered you a smile while Natasha seemed to be doing something in her lap, and she nodded at Wanda before turning to face you again.

“What’s going on?”

“We think we have a way for you to burn all that energy,” Natasha told you while Wanda sat beside her looking like a kid in a candy store. “Check the nightstand on your right.”

You moved over to investigate, pulling the drawer open and frowned when you only spotted a small key, picking it up with a curious gaze.

“It’s just a...wait.” You picked up the iPad with wide eyes. “Is this to the special room?”

Natasha nodded and you squealed in excitement, jumping to your feet and making sure to wince a bit when your left foot made contact with the carpet.

“Careful baby, please!” Wanda begged. “You’re going to give us a heart attack.”

“Sorry!” 

You made your way down the hall and unlocked the door, stepping in and closing and locking the door behind you as they instructed. The iPad was placed in their preferred spot so they could watch you strip again before telling you exactly what to pick out. Their object of choice was a big, sparkly dildo meant to be attached to a flat surface, the headboard of a king sized bed in this case.

“This one is kinda big,” you remarked as you knelt beside the dildo to examine the length.

“But baby,” Natasha began with a falsely sweet tone that you’d grown accustomed to hearing in the bedroom, one that had you squeezing your thighs together immediately. “Don’t you want to be good for us?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Good girls listen. Are you a good girl?”

“Yes, Natty.”

“Then you can take it.”

You took a deep breath and positioned yourself, reaching for your clit between your parted legs and trying not to gasp in reaction to what you felt.

“You’re already soaked, aren’t you baby?”

You nodded and closed your eyes as you kept working your middle finger across the sensitive nub, slowly backing up onto the erect length and whimpering as it filled you up.

“That’s it, baby,” Wanda called out breathily, and you didn’t even need to raise your head to know she was touching herself, as was Natasha. “You’re so good at this.”

You paused for a moment when your ass bumped into the headboard, giving yourself time to adjust to being stretched open like this on your own. Pulling your hand away to rest both of them on the bed in front of you for support, you glanced at the iPad to see both of them watching you, and you stifled the moan that left you when you realized they were getting each other off.

“Like what you see, baby?” You nodded in response, your eyes glued to their crossed arms just barely moving. “Then get going, or we’ll turn the camera off.”

You began to move your hips in a slow back-and-forth motion, hissing and moaning each time the toy hit a spot that one of your girlfriends usually got for you.

“Faster.”

You obeyed immediately, gradually speeding up to a pace that had the bed shaking a bit under your movements, but you couldn’t find it in you to care about the safety of it all when you were this close to the edge. Your climax came faster than you expected and you managed to keep somewhat of a rhythm through it, slumping forward and panting as you came down.

“Again.” You looked to the screen in disbelief, biting your lip when you noticed Wanda’s head thrown back, her hands holding onto Natasha’s arm that seemed to move much faster now. “I didn’t stutter. Fuck yourself again.”

So you did, and another time and another time until you finally tapped out, sliding away from the toy and falling forward onto the bed. You lifted your head to see your fully naked girlfriends smiling at you, each of them a bit flushed from their own activity as they watched you.

“You were such a good girl tonight,” Wanda praised, smiling when you simply whimpered in response. “I can’t wait to get back there and fuck you myself.”

“Goodnight, baby. We love you.”

The call ended as you rolled onto your back to catch your breath for a moment. When your legs were no longer shaking uncontrollably, you stood up the best you could and grabbed the dildo after slipping on a robe, dropping it onto your pile of clothes as you grabbed that too. Once you were back in the shared room and the toy was cleaned, you slipped it into the bag you’d hidden in the closet. You were going to miss sex with them, and something had to take their place.

-

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @nat-km-mh @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @creepingwolfberry @bebe404 @seventeen0 @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @becka107 @muted-stoneheart @its-a-long-way-to-ba-sing-se @wannabe-fic-reader @messuhp @mjaudrey @emilyprentisswife @cherrieloco @fayhar @trikruismybitch @sxphiaswitch @beforeoursecrets @want-to-watch-it-burn @just-a-normalpersons @multi-images @witchxaf @natashadeservedmore @haiiiloeee2 @darkangelxoxo @sakurat123

[anobscurename]

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART X — masterlist

concept: you and chris attend a last minute vegas wedding of his close, personal friend. may contain a majority of the cast of the avengers. the slowest of slow burns. part eleven of many.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 5,3k

warnings: angst, jealousy, really sappy romance shit

author's note: here's a long one to make up for the fact that i didn't upload all of yesterday :) this one really messed me up, please let me know what you think :)

Chris Evans wore rejection exceptionally well.

When he returned from New York, it was like nothing had happened, nothing had changed – and you didn't know how to feel about that. A big part of you was relieved that things had returned to normal almost instantaneously. But a small, dark part of you – hidden very well in the recesses of your mind – had wanted him to be as hurt as you still were.

But there he was, bursting into your room, smile on his face.

You hadn't woken up yet, but the sound of the door being flung open had you springing up and already had a pillow clutched in your hand, ready for an attack – which you received, but not from who you'd expect.

Dodger, hot on Chris' heels, leapt onto you with a happy yowl and began the vigorous task of slobbering the ever loving shit out of you. You attempted to push him away, fighting to get the pillow between you to prevent getting drenched by dog saliva. But you were sluggish and Dodger was not, easily manoeuvring around you to attack once more.

Fighting a fit of laughter, you peered around your pillow at Chris. He stood in the doorway, hands in pockets, grinning stupidly.

"Christopher, get your attack dog off of me!"

He chuckled. "Get out of bed!"

You groaned. "It's a Saturday, Chris. I'm allowed to sleep in."

"Not today. Come on, get up!" He clapped. "We have a big day ahead of us."

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's got you so chipper?"

"Two things," he said, making his way to you. He promptly threw the covers off of you, causing you to yelp and tuck your bare legs to your chest. "Hey, didn't we discuss more pants being worn around the house...?"

"Two. Things?" You ground out the prompt from behind grit teeth. Dodger pawed at your legs.

"One, I got the part."

You beamed, irritation dissipating. "That's great! I'm really proud of you, Evans."

He smiled briefly, before hollowing his cheeks and letting out a singular piercing whistle. You winced, but Dodger immediately stopped his antics and returned to Chris' side, bounding happily alongside him as they both moved to exit.

"And? What's the second thing?" You called out to him.

"Pack your things, wear something nice. We're going to Vegas, baby."

———————

"Vegas?!" You had immediately hopped out of bed at the very casual name drop. "As in Las Vegas?"

"Of course," Chris shrugged, pouring some freshly brewed coffee into his favourite mug. It was one he'd stolen from the set of Knives Out; you were well acquainted with it.

"May I ask why?"

"We're going to a wedding."

"A wedding?!" Your voice was shrill. You were becoming increasingly more annoyed with how non-chalant he was being, answering your questions with the bare minimum.

"Well, it's more of a renewal of vows. They've been married for a while."

"Can I ask who?"

"Oh, man," he groaned inwardly. "Why do you insist on ruining every single surprise? Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Christopher."

"He's a good friend of mine, you may know him. It was a very spur-of-the-moment thing. You're my plus one, so please," he tossed you a discarded sweater you had left over the back of a nearby chair, "start packing. It's a four hour drive, maybe less if there's no traffic."

In a last ditch effort to let him know how crazy this all sounded, you gestured to Dodger, who was happily gnawing at his favourite toothmarked chew toy. "What about Dodge?"

"He's coming with us. Obviously."

And that was all he was willing to tell you. Your efforts to pry more information was met with hums and long, eye contact charged sips of coffee, and the occasional knowing cheeky smile.

Eventually, you gave up. "Fine," you huffed. "I'll go pack."

———————

When you'd first seen the car, you had to do a double take.

Chris was not a flashy person, but this car – was there any other word for it other than flashy?

"It's just a rental," Chris chuckled at your expression, strutting past you with a duffel bag in hand. He was being... strange, somehow. Something wasn't quite right, but he seemed fine, so you followed him to the sleek cranberry red convertible parked in the driveway. "I thought to myself: if we're going to Vegas, we're going to do it right."

He tossed the bag into the back, taking care to not hit Dodger who was already happily seated. He helped you with yours, before holding your door open for you.

The sun had already warmed the seats, and while you clicked the seatbelt in, Chris all but parkoured into the car.

His strong limbs moved easily, muscles flexing as he hoisted him up and over the door. The car bounced slightly when he landed, key already inching towards the ignition.

"You know, they put doors on the car for a reason," you said, digging in your bag for your sunglasses. If you were to be sat in that car for four hours, baking in the sun, you'd surely need them. You could already feel your arms, bare in the tank top you'd favoured in the Californian heat, heating up in spite of the sunscreen you'd slathered yourself in.

"Where's the fun in that?"

Chris had had a permanent smile on his face, ever since he'd all but kicked your door down to drag you to Vegas.

"What's going on with you?"

He seemed almost taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"You're being... weird."

"You're being weird," he retorted, somewhat childishly. In spite of having your eyes hidden, he didn't miss your eye roll. Propping his hand on your headrest, he turned to look at Dodger, who was happily panting in the backseat, tucked between the bags. "Everybody strapped in?"

Dodger barked in response, and you couldn't help but giggle.

"Brilliant."

The car turned over smoothly, engine roaring to life, and as you ripped down the driveway, Chris whooped.

He turned to you, the biggest, goofiest smile on his face. "Vegas, baby!"

———————

With the wind in your hair, any chill being quickly chased away by the heat of the sun, you found yourself smiling. You tore across Interstate 15, now in the open span of the desert.

Chris' excitement was infectious. Any conversation attempts were immediately drowned out, so you had settled on a playlist. Wailing at the top of your lungs, you sang along to many a Disney and Queen song you had playing through the aux chord, volume cranked to the maximum to be heard over the roar of road and engine.

Dodger – tongue waving happily in the wind – sometimes howled along. Being there, sat next to Chris in the open air, you felt carefree. There was only you, and him, and Dodger, and the ease of the roadtrip.

Chris reached over to adjust the rearview mirror, managing to catch your reflection in it. He paused, eyes darting between you and the road.

Your head was thrown back, lips stretched into a smile while you belted along to the third replay of Bohemian Rhapsody, hair tossed to the wind. The sight was enough to make his heart dissolve.

"Eyes on the road!" You laughed, yelling at him as the car began it's slight tilt into the other lane.

Quickly pulling the vehicle back on track, laugh strained, Chris fixed the rearview again to have eyes on Dodger – who seemed entirely unconcerned with the troubles of his owner.

"You hungry?" You fought to be heard over the music and whistling wind.

He leaned closer to you, now absorbed entirely with the road. "What?!"

"Are you hungry?!"

He shrugged, pulling himself back into his seat. "I could eat!"

You'd stopped at a gas station earlier, and had managed to gather some supplies for the long drive ahead. From the grocery bag at your feet, you pulled out Chris' sandwich, managing to tear open the packaging out of the wind's reach.

You held it out to him, but instead of taking it from you like you intended, he ducked his head and took a monstrous bite, teeth lightly grazing your fingertips.

The shiver that ran down your spine was immediately overcome when he pulled away – only for the slice of ham to follow him back up. It hung from his lips, flapping in the wind, slapping at his face.

He was grinning when he turned to look at you, sunglasses having fallen slightly down the bridge of his nose to reveal his eyes. They were alive with humour and so blue in the sunlight. His mouth was full of sandwich and ham when he flashed his pearly whites, and, with expert movement and tongue work, he scooped the ham into his mouth. He moaned in mock ecstasy.

"You're such a dork!" You shouted over the wind, once you'd overcome the hysterics and he'd finished his mouthful of ham.

"I'm so what?" He yelled back, feigning haven't heard you. "Sexy?! My God, you're right!"

In your distraction, Dodger had snatched the sandwich from your hand, earning him shocked gasps from both of you.

"Dodger!" You scolded, but the sandwich was done by the time you whirled around to look at him. He barked, content, and licked a wet stripe to your face.

"Yeah, that's right, bud! You tell her!"

———————

You slowed down once you reached the city limits of Vegas to take in the sights. Not that there was much to see.

The glitz and glam so often portrayed on the silver screen was replaced by a seediness that you simply could not reconcile with all that you had been expecting. Hollywood really had the audacity to lie to you like that, you supposed.

It almost made you wonder who would want to have their wedding here. But there was also a charm to it, if you didn't look too closely.

Several Elvises (Elvi?) were sharing a cigarette outside a club, while showgirls strutted down the gum caked sidewalks, feathers ruffling in the breeze and the sway of their ten inch heels.

They waved when you drove past, and Dodger gave them a thrilled yap. He had never seen something that big with feathers before, and you almost had to grab his collar before he chased them down.

After seeing so many multithemed casinos – especially the closer you got to the city center – that it became monotonous, your illusion of glitz and glamour was restored when Chris pulled the car up outside the Bellagio.

"You're kidding," you breathed.

He chuckled. "Not good enough?"

"Too good enough," you practically stuttered.

Chris shut the engine off before clambering out of the car, thankfully using the door this time. He stretched, muscles stiff from the long ride.

"Everyone at the wedding is staying here. The reception's going to be held in the ballroom, but if you don't want to..."

"No!" You said quickly. And then, softer: "I'd love to stay here, I'm just... trying to... you know?"

All you could do was gesture aimlessly, but Chris did know. There was a time once where lavish hotels and spontaneous trips across the country were very new to him.

"Well, good," he said while handing the keys over to the valet, slipping him a good tip and a grateful smile. That smile stayed, changing into something softer and more genuine when he turned back to you. "Because the reservation is already booked and it'll be a bitch cancelling it now."

He helped you out of the car, your legs shaky from both sitting for so long and the delight of getting the chance to spend the night at the freaking Grand Bellagio Hotel & Casino.

Once he was certain you weren't going to keel over, he put the seat forward to let a very excited Dodger out. Obedient as always, Dodger remained by Chris' side as he retrieved the bags.

Giving a friendly wave to the valet – arm barely weighed down by the duffel bag curled in his hand – Chris led you and Dodge into the foyer.

Inside was just as beautiful as the outside, if not more. You were suddenly feeling lightheaded, taking in the opulence it was furnished in. You felt out of place, standing there, road weary in your rumpled denim shorts and spaghetti strap tank. Especially when you caught sight of it – the trademark Bellagio fountain. Water climbed the sky, only to fall back down in a heavy shower, sparkling in the hotel lights. It was magnificent and you were suddenly feeling so small, so–

"Afternoon, ma'am. Reservation under the name Evans?"

Chris' low voice practically boomed in the quiet of the front desk, breaking the spell. It unnerved you how hyper aware you were of his every action.

The process of checking in was mundane, but soon, key cards in hand, Chris was guiding you towards the elevator, Dodger in tow. You didn't know whether to be relieved or crestfallen that Chris had booked separate rooms – still conjoining, for Dodger's benefit. You decided you were relieved. It was much easier to puzzle through relief than to dwell on the pain in your chest.

Against Chris' insistence, a bellboy took your bags for you. And it was while you were waiting for the elevator that you met the groom.

"Well, I'll be damned," you heard a familiar voice say. Not familiar because you knew it personally, but familiar because you had heard it many times before, often while seated in a cinema seat. "Christopher Evans, as I live and breathe."

"Always with the theatrics, Downey," Chris grinned. They hugged, clapping each other on the backs.

Robert wore a large smile and an incredibly well tailored suit.

Dodger let out a deafening bark, tail blurring in the speed of his wag. He practically pounced on the man, causing Robert to laugh, petting him. "Easy, boy." Absentmindedly, but no less sincere, Robert continued, hands buried in Dodger's fur while he addressed the two of you. "I'm so glad you could make it. I know it was a very last minute, spur of the moment type thing. It really means a lot."

"Who else is here?"

Robert straightened, brushing some dog hair off his sleeve. "Hemsworth was stuck in Australia, but that was fine, given the short notice. Tom also couldn't find a flight–"

"Holland or Hiddleston?"

"Hiddleston. We managed to get the kid. Thankfully he had been filming in L.A. for the past few months. I couldn't imagine this day without him..."

And then he saw you.

You had thought you had run your capacity for getting starstruck well and truly into the ground, and it was only typical of Robert Downey Jr. to prove you wrong. You stood there, speechless, mouth agape.

"Holy shit," you whispered when you finally found your voice again.

You hoped he hadn't heard you, but he had, and, tipping his sunglasses down to take you in, he beamed. "And who do we have here?"

"Robert, this is–"

"{Your full name}. It's so lovely to meet you," you gushed, fervently shaking his extended hand. "Really, it's an honour. I love you 3000. I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. I just can't believe it's you. I'm sorry, I'm going to let go of your hand now."

Robert smirked at your enthused outburst. He glanced at Chris. "Where did you find this one?"

"It's not like that, Rob. She's just a friend."

Attention back to you, Robert pushed his glasses back up with one practiced finger. "Well, just a friend. It's great to have you here, celebrating this day with Susan and I. I like the whole... 80's vibe you have going on. You're really taking this revival seriously."

Your confusion was shortlived.

As soon as you and Chris had said goodbye to Robert to shower the roadtrip away and get ready for the wedding, you caught your reflection in the elevator mirror.

And... to put it mildly, it was a sight to behold. You instantly knew what he had meant by "80's vibe."

Your hair was a mess, tousled and wind swept to rest atop your head at new voluminous heights. Your sunglasses – which you hadn't given much thought to, having slid them up and out of your eyes – were tangled lopsidedly in a precarious perch.

You looked insane. You had met Robert Downey Jr. while looking like an inmate at Arkham, and the cold slither of mortification overcame you.

"How. Could. You. Not. Tell. Me?!" You punctuated every word with a slap to Chris' muscle bound arm, and although they were light and didn't hurt, he shied away from you all while chuckling smugly. "How could you not tell me?!"

He kept his eyes on the screen displaying number of floors you flew past as he shrugged. "I didn't see anything wrong."

"What do you mean, Chris?! Look at me! I have Farah Fawcett hair!" You gestured wildly at the birdsnest.

He did as you requested, and turned to you. "You look beautiful," he said simply. "I didn't see anything wrong."

———————

The ceremony took place at A Little White Chapel – a little over a ten minute drive away from the Bellagio – and was nothing short of sweet.

You had felt a little self conscious, wearing the baby blue summer dress you had found sitting in the back of your closet untouched for a little over six months. Chris could sense you apprehension.

You had been picking at a tiny loose thread in the hem of the skirt when he leaned down to you.

"How many times do I have to say it?" He sighed, reassurance tinted in his voice. "You look fine."

You gave him a small smile. "Maybe just once more?"

"You look–"

And then he was practically knocked over by the barrelling tackle hug Anthony greeted him with. Breath knocked out of him, Chris grinned as he hugged Anthony back.

"There she is," Mackie opened his arms to you too once him and Chris broke apart and Chris turned to greet Sebastian who had been standing back, hands in his pockets, watching the sneak attack in amusement.

You giggled, hugging him tightly. "How've you been?"

"Oh, you know," he shrugged. He moved back slightly for you to give Sebastian an affectionate greeting kiss on the cheek. "Same old, same old. Work, work, work. Almost pulled my arm out of its socket throwing that shield. How the hell did you manage to do that for so long, Chris?"

The kiss did not go unnoticed to Chris. He was staring at you intently, eyes stormy, before being snapped out of it by Anthony. Storm subsiding, he smiled easily. "You just gotta work for it harder, I guess."

"Oh, is that right?" Anthony arched his brow, and soon they were play wrestling in their expensive suits.

"Should we break them up?"

"Nah," Sebastian waved your suggestion off. "Let them fight it out." He caught sight of someone and sucked in a sharp breath, eyes twinkling in glee. "Or better yet..."

"Boys, boys," a voice lilted out, mock scorn laced into the words. It was husky yet feminine, an exotic but distinct combination. "Where are your manners? We're at a wedding."

The boys instantly broke apart to see Scarlett approach. She was frowning in mock disappointment... but that quickly dissolved. She grinned, throwing her arms around them.

You couldn't believe it. It was a whole Avengers reunion.

"And you must be {your name}."

You returned her smile, holding out your hand to shake. She disregarded it, instead opting to give you the same treatment she gave her friends. Your heart warmed.

"I've heard so much about you," she said while you hugged.

"Only good things, I hope," you muttered shyly.

"Only the best. The boys won't shut up about you. Heard you turned a few heads at Vulpecula the other night," she winked. "Hope you're giving this one a hard time. He needs it every now and then."

The person in question arched a teasing – if not inquisitive – brow. "Don't be giving her any ideas. It's hard enough as is."

The double entendre was caught by everyone in your little reunion circle, and Chris' face flushed. "What I meant was–"

"Oh, we know what you meant," Anthony winked.

Something caught Sebastian's attention. Or rather, someone. He tapped Anthony on the shoulder, never peeling his gaze away from the new arrival. "Eyes up. Holland just entered the building."

Sure enough, Tom Holland had just arrived, Elizabeth Olsen at his side listening intently to everything he was saying. By the looks of it, they were catching up.

"You got the juice box ready?" Anthony asked.

Sebastian opened his blazer to display a juice box seated comfortably in the inner breast pocket. "Locked and loaded, baby."

"Let's go torment the kid."

And they were off, half hearted goodbyes mumbled upon their exit.

Their voices were inaudible, but from what you could tell, they were teasing Tom, offering him the children's beverage. He was taking it exceptionally well, laughing it off, while Lizzie said hello to the duo.

"The funny thing about them is that they're more like kids than Tom is," Scarlett mused, watching the scene play out.

"No, the funny thing is, is that I was ready to fight Sebastian for that juice box," you murmured under your breath.

That earned you a soft chortle from Scarlett, and something close to pride bloomed in your chest.

"Oh, I see Mark! I better go say hi before I miss him again. He keeps getting pulled into conversations and I can never get a word in." Scarlett slid easily past, but not before turning to say goodbye. "You two, grab some seats, I'll try and join you in a bit. If I don't catch you again, I'll see you at the reception..."

And then she disappeared, the only sign she'd ever been there was the trace of expensive perfume and a glimpse of her red dress and golden hair.

"I love her."

Chris bellowed out a laugh at your honesty, the completely earnest look in your eyes. "Yeah, Scarlett's great. One of my closest friends."

"Are you trying to make me jealous?" The new voice was the one you had encountered before – the one that had you self consciously checking your hair.

Chris ducked down once again, finishing his previously cut off reassurance in your ear. "You look fine."

Robert handed you a champagne flute each, ones he had plucked from a passing waiter's tray. "Because if so, it's working."

"I only have eyes for you, Downey," Chris raised his glass to Robert in subtle cheers. "You know that."

"I'm spoken for," Robert gasped, scandalized. Then, leaning in conspiratorially, he whispered: "But just say the word, I'll cancel the wedding and we can elope."

"I doubt Susan would appreciate that."

Robert waved off Chris' weak protest. "We've been married fifteen years today, I think she's sick of me by now. Christopher Downey. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Robert Evans," you challenged.

"Perfect," Robert grinned. "It's settled. I'll bring the car around, we'll run away together. {Your name}, you'll officiate and we'll all live happily ever after. Agreed?"

He stuck his hand out for Chris to shake. Having to switch his glass to a different hand to grasp Robert's, Chris pulled Robert closer to him. Concern creased his brow. "But seriously, Robert. How are you feeling?"

The sincerity in which he looked at Chris in that moment, he could say anything and you'd believe it. But his answer was so simple. "I've never been happier a day in my life. I love her. Always have, always will."

And judging by the way he looked at her when she came down the aisle, you knew it was true. He was glowing, gazing at her like the very first time he had married her.

He looked at her the way an immortal would describe Galileo's first look to the Milky Way.

And if you hadn't been so entranced by the splendour of it all, that look that Robert had would seem familiar. Because right beside you, Chris was looking at you.

He was looking at you in that exact same way.

———————

"Is that Mel Gibson? Is that Mel Gibson. Christopher Robert Evans, you tell me right now: is that Mel Gibson? Is that Mel Gibson I see before me? Pinch me. Holy fucking shit it is motherfucking Mel Gibson. I'm in the same room as Braveheart."

Chris was watching you with complete adoration, a dopey smile on his face.

This had been going on for a while – it was so strange for you to be in a room of familiar faces you'd never met before, and although you'd served many a drink to the famous, it was one night at a time and there was at least a quick escape to the break room should you require a moment to gather yourself. You felt almost... naked in this room full of familiar strangers.

"You should go say hi."

"To Mel Gibson?" You blanched.

"Yeah, why not?"

"It's Mel Gibson," you said flatly, as if that was the answer to all the questions anyone had ever asked in the universe, ever.

"Okay, first, he's just Mel. You don't have to keep saying his full name." Chris handed you a wine glass. He continued as he poured some wine into it from one of the reception tables in the ballroom. "And second, Mel's great. We've had dinner together at Downey's a few times. Go," he pushed you gently towards where Gibson stood. "It'll be fine."

You threw back the wine and took one step forward, before immediately backtracking. "NononoIcan't–"

And then Chris had his arm around your shoulders guiding you over to where Mel stood, intent on giving you an introduction. "Yes, you can," he cajoled, trying his very hardest not to snigger at your mood swings.

"Look how cute they are," Anthony sighed.

Sebastian groaned. "Stop it."

"You're just upset because I'm going to win."

"There's nothing to–" Seb cut off, having spotted Holland at the bar. "Minor alert. Shall we?"

"Fuck yes, we shall."

———————

You had been speaking to Mel Gibson for a little over an hour at that point.

After the introduction, Chris had left you to your devices, going around the reception dinner and saying hi to everyone he knew, shaking hands with people he didn't.

And when he returned to where he had left you, he didn't know whether to be surprised or not to find you still there.

Mel found you quite entertaining once you'd surpassed the initial fangirling. You were so young and full of life. He listened to your babbling, interjecting when appropriate and imparting little hints of wisdom, here and there. And that's how you'd stayed, for an hour at least.

"{Your name}, can I borrow you for a minute?" Chris' voice was soft, polite. Giving you every opportunity to say no.

In spite of how entertained Mel was by you, once Chris had arrived, he'd already started looking for a different conversation partner. It wasn't something you took offense to – it was a wedding, after all, with so many people around. You couldn't hog all of his time. So you excused yourself from him, thanking him, before hooking your arm in Chris'.

You'd expected him to lead you back to the table, but you were surprised to find yourself being led to the dancefloor instead.

It was the first dance.

Robert, dapper in his suit, led a splendid Susan onto the floor, and the gathering crowd clapped and cheered. The violins and piano were struck, and the married couple began their hypnotic waltz.

"No need to thank me just yet," Chris murmured into your hair, eyes on the couple gliding across the floor.

Not wanting to disrupt the spell the dance had cast, you were slow in your response. "Thank you for what?"

"You looked like you needed saving." With every word, you could feel his hot breath fanning your hair, and those goddamn goosebumps were back.

"If anything, it was Mel who needed saving."

The waltz came to an end with a passionate kiss, and then the dancefloor was open to everyone.

"This one goes out to Robert and Susan," you heard a woman – Scarlett – say into the microphone. She had made her way on stage, and was looking at the renewly weds with unadulterated affection. "They begged and begged me to sing here tonight, and I finally agreed. As long as I was allowed to pick the song. So here is Let Me Love You Like A Woman, originally performed by Lana Del Rey."

"We couldn't get Lana!" Robert yelled from his seat at the table. The guests laughed, and you even found yourself giggling a little.

"Fuck you, Downey," Scarlett chuckled.

The band struck up the opening chords to the slow, beautifully peaceful melody. Without hesitation, Chris pulled you to the dancefloor, and turned to capture you in his arms. His hand rested against the small of your back – so perfectly fitting into the natural bow of your spine, it was like he was made to hold you like this – his other holding yours to his chest.

"Were you jealous?" He could see you were joking, he could see it in your eyes.

"Of Mel?" Chris scoffed. "No."

You continued your slow dance, relishing in the feel of having Chris close to you again, his body firm against yours, warming you through to your core. Your head rested on his chest, eyes closed, letting Scarlett's voice lull you into a gentle rythym. Her voice was so calming, that when Chris spoke, you had nearly forgotten where you were.

"But of Sebastian? Yes."

You could hear how hard it was for him to admit, the strain in his voice near palpable. But the surprise the admission drew from you caused you to shoot your head up to look at him incredulously. You could almost think he was joking, how ridiculous it sounded, but one look at his face and you knew he wasn't.

"Sebastian?" You repeated in disbelief. "Sebastian Stan?"

"I saw you kiss him."

He sounded so crushed, you found yourself hurting.

"That was nothing. That was a hello."

His next words were harsh, a subdued rage in the depths of the blue of his eyes. "Maybe the next time you feel nothing for a person, don't kiss them," he bit out. It was like he had been hoarding all the pain and resentment he had felt, and it finally spilled forth. "It sends the wrong message."

And then he was gone, ripping away from you, cold air filling the empty vacuum where he once stood.

———————

"I saw you and Chris out there, you looked..."

Anthony had been speaking while approaching you, but as soon as he saw your face, his tone changed. "Hey... Hey, what's wrong?"

You were sitting at your table, head propped in your hand, trying hard to mask your misery, but ultimately failing.

"It's that obvious, huh?" You sniffled.

Anthony dropped into the chair beside you – the seating arrangement proclaiming it belonging to Chris Evans – and immediately pulled you into his arms.

You looked a little like a mess, eyes watering enough to smudge your mascara, but you didn't cry. To be frank, you were incapable of crying. You were too confused to cry.

"Please tell me you're like this because of the wonderful union between Robert and Susan Downey, and not because of something Chris did."

You laughed softly into Anthony's shoulder before withdrawing. "I just... I don't know what happened."

"Walk me through it."

"He was... He was so happy earlier. Which I found strange, of course, because he was being too happy. I'd never seen him like that, even when he really was happy. It was like he was fake happy. And we were fine. We were..."

"Happy?" Anthony suggested when you trailed off.

"Exactly," you took a deep gulp of wine. "But then, now, on the dancefloor..."

One read of your face, and Anthony guessed what happened. And he didn't press further, instead offering you the only explanation he could. As Chris' friend. As yours, too.

"We are in the profession of pretense, {your name}. We're wonderful liars when we need to be, especially to ourselves. And the thing about Chris... Well, he can't lie to himself for very long."

[isis-astarte-diana]

Milk and Honey: Day 3

Day 1 ‖ Day 2 ‖ Day 3 (Fin)

Summary: “I think we need to talk about yesterday.” Inches are lost; miles are gained; things are said that can’t be unsaid.

Warnings: Tiny bit of non-sexual nudity and also, separately, a sexual reference. Dodgy dynamics (I tried to fix them!). Angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 3880

NB: This chapter was such a struggle to figure out and I think it shows (!!) but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Also, yes, I did write another ‘Missy and reader watching a horror film’ scene, and no, I won’t apologise for it. (Maybe there should be a seasonal Hallowe’en film night fic?) I consider this the end of the story!

You think it’s the rain that’s woken you.

It’s deafening against the window, a downpour that floods the road outside so that the sound of each passing car is turned into a crashing wave. The room is black as pitch. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust and make forms of the shadows.

“Go back to sleep.”

Missy’s voice close behind you makes you jump. You twist around awkwardly, tangling your legs in the duvet, and almost smack your face into her elbow. She’s reclining on top of the sheets beside you. In the inky gloom you can just make out the pillows propping her up against the headboard, the open book she holds in her lap.

What time is it? The first hazy thought shakes loose in your mind. Almost immediately afterwards, how long has she been awake?

What comes out is thick and groggy. “Too dark to read.”

“Hmm.” It’s not quite a chuckle. She turns the page, a slow, rasping sound near your ear. “Is it dark to you?”

There’s something low and melancholic in her voice that makes you frown. You try to sit up, propping yourself up with one arm, but the duvet pulls tight and stops you halfway. You’d hoped to see her face better by moving; the shadows give no such clarity. She’s featureless in the dark.

“Go back to sleep,” she says again, not waiting for an answer. “It’s early.”

“And you?” Your head falls back to the pillow of its own accord. Wakefulness is still out of reach, a tendril of smoke that you cannot grasp. “Will you sleep?”

No response.

Even as your eyes close and you slip back into unconsciousness, you can feel her gaze on your face, warm and ticklish. Or maybe it’s her hand.

+++++

Missy is brushing her hair.

Eyes half-closed, you pretend not to watch her. She stands in front of your mirror, purple housecoat flowing around her like something from a fairy tale, sweeping a wooden brush through the tangles. Four hairpins jut from her mouth.

I’m glad you changed your mind about the bed.

The swelling there is gone. A ragged line is all that remains, dark through her pale pink bottom lip. She sets the hairbrush down and drags a pin from between her teeth, running it across the scab. Her eye twitches.

I think we need to talk about yesterday.

Red splotches on her cheek mark the place where the graze had been, new skin that looks tight and itchy. Parts of the large cut are healed completely. It’s only by the faint purple scratches - one below her eye, one on her jaw - that you can even find where she was injured. She twirls a lock of hair around her finger and pins it at the back of her head.

I don’t know what to do.

Your throat feels tight. She finishes putting her hair up, skilful and unhurried, eyes never flitting from the mirror.

I wish you would look at me.

Slender fingers chart the healed cuts on her face.

I wish you would touch me.

She unbuttons the housecoat and drops it from her shoulders, revealing her chemise. She twists as if to look over her shoulder. It’s no significant state of undress but you clamp your eyes shut all the same.

A long moment of silence passes.

“Could you look at my back?”

Her voice is soft. When you open your eyes, she’s turned back to the mirror, having shrugged off the gown and hooked it over her arm. The white linen chemise ends just above her knees. Her pale calves are dappled with fine, dark hair.

“Please. I can’t quite see it in the mirror.”

You throw the duvet off and sit up, skin prickling with goosebumps as it meets the cool morning air. Outside the rain is torrential. “Of course.” Your voice is still groggy.

She tilts her head as you approach. A single strand of hair hangs loose at her neck. It stirs with your breath.

“Can I-?” Your fingers hover at the embroidered straps on her shoulders, not touching, not asking. Just waiting.

“Please,” she says again.

There is no right way to ease the top of the dress down her arms. You search for something to look at that won’t make your chest hurt but there’s only her bare shoulders, her bright eyes in the mirror. Closing your eyes would be insulting. So would turning your face away.

You can do nothing but watch her shoulder blades twitch as you guide the straps down past her elbows. The fabric droops, falling clear to her waist. She shivers but makes no effort to cover her chest. Your eyes drop to the small of her back.

“Well?”

There’s an indent, a quarter of an inch deep, maybe more. The new skin that lines it is a furious shade of pink. It’s sickle-shaped, with jagged edges, curving to the left of her spine. You catch your fingers drifting towards it and clench them into a fist at your side.

“It looks good.” You clear your throat. “It’s healing. No swelling or anything.”

“But not healed yet?” A strange sort of optimism tints the question.

“No, not- not properly. It still looks...” Painful. “Fresh.”

“Good.” She tugs her chemise back into place hastily. “That it’s healing. That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Still cold, you reach for your dressing gown and draw it around yourself. “I’m, uh - I’m gonna go for a shower, okay?”

“Of course.”

She fastens her housecoat with quick fingers. 

+++++

When you find Missy reading on the sofa, there are two steaming mugs on the coffee table in front of her.

She’s gotten changed.

It’s nothing you haven’t seen before - the dark floral blouse, the wool skirt - but it feels uncanny. Somehow, seeing her in her chemise or in a pair of your pyjamas is less bizarre than this, her usual clothes with a softer silhouette, no corset, no boots. She has her legs tucked beneath her and her back angled away from the cushions in a way that’s startling unfamiliar. She looks relaxed. She looks comfortable.

“I made tea,” she says, and you realise that you’re staring.

“For me?” It sounds pathetically surprised.

“No. They’re both mine.” She glances up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, for you.” An arrogant, sarcastic sort of lopsided smirk; a faint flicker of her usual self. It makes your heart flutter.

“Thank you, Missy.”

She blinks. When was the last time somebody said that?

You take the cup and sit beside her. Her foot, stocking-pale and peeking out beneath the folds of her skirt, brushes your leg. You don’t flinch. Neither does she. To keep from reaching down and resting your palm on her ankle you wrap both hands around your mug. In times of desperation you can undress her, in darkness or in anger she can lay her hands on you to push you away or pull you close, but by the cold light of a rainy noontime you don’t know where you stand.

You don’t know the rules of this game.

As you drink your tea in silence - save for the occasional drag and rasp of a page turning - the words roll over and over behind your teeth, a tangle you try and fail to straighten out before speaking aloud. There’s too much to unravel. Too many thoughts, emotions, sensations are knotted together, and how do you ask if she feels what you feel when you don’t know what that is?

How do you ask if you can touch her?

How do you explain that you want to?

Missy watches you from the corner of her eye. It’s clear from the set of her jaw that she can sense something of the tumult in your skull. You wish she would put the book down and stop pretending to ignore you. You wish she would speak first.

You wish she would hold your hand.

“What are you reading?” You ask, and immediately wish that you hadn’t when she lifts her eyes from the page and sets them on you. They crinkle at the corners with her smile.

“Immensely dull,” she admits as she shows you the cover. It’s a nondescript black hardback titled in an unfamiliar language. “He’s been telling me to read it for centuries. I let it gather dust in the vault just to get under his skin.”

You can see where this is going. “And now he’s conveniently forgotten to bring you any other books?”

“Clever girl.” You hope she doesn’t see the way it makes your fingers twitch. Dropping her gaze back to the book in her lap, she shifts just enough that her foot rests against the outside of your thigh. She leaves it there.

“I think-”

The words come out before you can stop them and now it’s happening. You’ve lit the fuse. Missy looks at you again, properly this time, and you’d do anything for her to jump in and plug this gap with a derisive, do you? or, try not to strain yourself  but she doesn’t. She just waits. It hurts to meet her eyes.

You do it anyway. She deserves that much.

“I think we need to talk about yesterday.”

She nods, almost imperceptible. Something cracks behind her smile but it stays put, too wide, too false to be comfortable. “Do we?” It’s hollow. Not a question, not a snarl. Maybe a scoff.

Maybe a plea.

The doorbell rings.

+++++

In the doorway to your flat the Doctor proffers a damp plastic bag. The smell of hot oil and chip shop vinegar rises from it in a haze. It instantly makes you hungry.

In his other hand he carries a folded umbrella, wet from the rain.

"I brought food,” he says, and you realise that you’re staring.

“Is that-”

“Yes.” He taps the end of Missy’s sonic umbrella against the ground. “Can I come in?”

Uncertain. Like he thinks you might actually say no. He looks down at his full hands, the chips, the sonic; peace offerings. The closest to an apology you could ever expect, and one you aren’t quite ready to accept.

You don’t know when you got so angry with him.

“Did you do anything to it?”

“No,” he says, fire in his eyes, and it means I would never. You know his vehemence is supposed to be an olive branch, too, but it incenses you. He understands the notion that some things are sacred. He knows that there is a line and this is where he’s drawn it, too far on the wrong side of cruelty.

You stand to the side to let him through the door. When he’s close enough, you snatch the umbrella from his hand.

+++++

Missy is so different when he’s there.

She sits up straighter. Even when he takes your seat beside her, banishing you to sit cross-legged on the floor, she keeps her distance. Her feet are back on the ground. The book that she was reading is, you can see from your low vantage point, hidden beneath the sofa.

The umbrella is propped up against the coffee table in front of her. It doesn’t leave her sight for an instant.

“So,” he inspects a chip on the end of his fork. “You look better.”

“Than you?” A tilt of her eyebrow. “Always.”

He ignores it. “How’s recovery going?”

“Tiresome. Next time I get stabbed I’ll make sure that it kills me.”

Next time I get stabbed. Your stomach twists painfully and you put the remains of your meal aside. Their tight back-and-forth continues for almost half an hour.

When the Doctor gets up to leave, Missy sees him out, closing the living room door behind her. In a bid to ignore the low murmur of their voices in the hall, you tidy up as loudly as you can.

+++++

Four knocks against the doorframe, just audible over the rolling boil of the kettle.

You’ve never drunk this much tea in your life.

Even before she speaks your stomach is dropping. The kitchen feels smaller than it ever has before. Counters and cabinets press in on you, claustrophobic, like the room is shrinking around you in the silence.

“It’s time for me to go back.”

Squeezing your eyes tight, you fight not to make a sound until you’ve steadied yourself. Horror and sorrow and pain tug at your throat. When you finally manage to reply it’s terse, partly with anger, partly because your voice will break if you say any more. “Do you want to?”

“Does it matter?” She asks, and somehow it’s worse than yes. “The Doctor and I- agree, that I’ve recovered enough to travel again.”

“Did you show him your back?” There’s an ember of something too much like jealousy in the question.

“No.” I would never. A trace of disgust in her voice. Some things are sacred. “No, but we spoke.”

You scoff. “You mean, he said jump and you asked how high?”

She doesn’t even argue and god, you’d take being thrown against the bathroom sink over this, any day. “Yes. That’s how it has to be.”

“Does it?” For the first time you throw a glance over your shoulder at her. It’s a mistake. It makes your bottom lip quiver. “Why?”

Her brows draw together, a soft sort of torment on her face. “You know why.”

“I don’t.” Squaring your shoulders, you turn to face her, bracing your hands on the countertop behind you. You set your jaw against the plaintive whimper that races up your throat. “Tell me.”

“I’m not- ready. To be around people yet.” She waves a delicate hand in front of her face. “I thought I was, but obviously I was mistaken.”

“You look ready.” You gesture to her. “You’re standing here with me.”

“I’m not safe.”

“You haven’t killed me, have you?” You indicate your very-much-still-living body. “I’m still here.”

A quick hand wraps around your extended arm, just over your wrist, where she’d grabbed you yesterday. It’s not a tight grip but the joint is stiff and, despite your best efforts, your face twitches with discomfort. Spotting the movement, she loosens her hand until she’s just barely touching you.

“I hurt you.”

Your eyes flicker over her face, the pain written into it. It’s not a question, but you answer anyway. “Yes.”

Her gaze drops from you and she lets go of your wrist, but you catch her hand in yours and take a step towards her. She could pull away easily, you know that; but she doesn’t. Her fingers lace between yours.

“Do you want to go?” You ask again, making a conscious effort to keep your voice soft. She doesn’t look at you.

“I have to,” she murmurs to the floor.

“You don’t.” Closer still, letting your clasped hands swing between you. Less than a foot of distance from chest to chest. “And that’s not what I asked.”

Missy lifts her bright eyes to you and the desperation there makes your breath catch. She doesn’t speak.

“You can stay.” It comes out like a plea. “If you like.”

Her voice is a cracked whisper. “I can’t.”

“Why?” You reach for her other hand and she doesn’t flinch, letting you slot your fingers together with hers until you can feel her heartbeat through both palms. “Why can’t you, Missy?”

“Because-” with a steadying breath, she sets her jaw and twists her lips in contempt that you know isn’t directed at you. “Because I am not a good person.”

“Then be a good person!” 

You don’t mean for it to be so loud. Her eyes widen and you squeeze her hands, closing the distance until you’re almost touching. Your faces are inches apart.

“It’s not something you can learn. You’re not stupid, and you’re not helpless, and, whatever, the Doctor thinks, you are not his pet monster. If you lock yourself up with him until you feel like you’re good enough you’ll be there forever.”

Her face crumples, tears shining glassy in the low light of the afternoon, and it looks like she wants to lunge and pull you close but she doesn’t. She parts her lips and takes a breath and lets you carry on. You can feel a mutinous sob building at the back of your throat.

“You don’t have to save the world. Most people never do. You don’t have to be kind all the time because nobody ever is but you have to choose, Missy. You just have to choose not to be cruel. Every day, you choose. That’s all you do. That’s all there is to it.”

She laughs, low and tearful, a strangled sort of noise. ���You say it like it’s easy.”

“On a good day, it is.”

With a shaky breath like she’s drowning, Missy asks, “and on a bad day?”

“On a bad day, you do the best you can.” When a tear streaks down her face you can’t stop yourself dropping her hand, reaching up to cup her cheek. It’s cold. Her mouth falls open with a quivering gasp when you wipe away the moisture with your thumb. You feel your own eyes burning and offer her a watery smile. “And then you try again tomorrow.”

She covers your hand with her own and looks at you for a moment as if she’s waiting for permission; and then she holds it there and tilts her head to press a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist.

The tears you’ve been swallowing back escape with a choked whimper.

“Stay, Missy.” You crook your fingers and curl them lightly against her jaw. She shivers. “Please. I’m asking you. Stay here with me.”

Closing her eyes like she’s struck with pain, she moves your hand from her face and rests her forehead against yours. Slowly - so achingly slowly - her hands release yours and come to rest on your waist. It makes your breath hitch. You mirror her, just as tentatively, pressing your palms to the line where thin blouse and thick skirt meet.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, the breath of the words ghosting over your face. “For yesterday, I-”

“I know you are.” Her fingers tighten on the fabric of your clothes. “Don’t do it again.”

“Never.” She opens her eyes, so close that you can hear the moisture on her lashes. “I promise you. I would never.”

“I believe you.”

“I want to be good.”

You chuckle through your tears, breathless and high-pitched. “For what it’s worth, I think you already are.”

She makes a fractured sound in the back of her mouth and slides one hand into the small of your back. Lifting her head, she moves closer, pressing her chest to yours. Her fingers are cool and feather-light on your face.

“Everything,” she murmurs, brushing the tears from your cheek. “It’s worth everything.”

The kiss is damp, and salty, and it knocks you breathless.

For a second you worry about hurting her, feeling the rough line of the scab through her bottom lip drag against your mouth, but she has no such concerns. She kisses you like she’ll die if she doesn’t.

You know how she feels.

When, too soon, she pulls away, you can’t help whining and trying to chase her mouth with your own, but she steps back, just enough that you can’t reach. For a long moment you’re terrified that she’s changed her mind, that this has been some mad and frenzied mistake, but she presses her lips to your forehead and tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“You’re cold.”

It takes you a moment to even process the words. “Am I?”

Smiling, she reaches back to move your hand from her waist and show it to you by way of explanation. It’s trembling.

You hadn’t noticed.

“Oh. Yeah, I s’pose I am.”

She kisses your knuckles, just once, just lightly, and you realise that you are, in fact, shivering.

“You go and sit down.” Gentle fingers brush the underside of your chin. “I’ll make tea.”

The touch has you ducking your head shyly and you tease, “twice in one day?”

“Only for you, poppet.”

+++++

“It’s obviously the little girl.”

“Is it?” You glance away from the gore on the screen and down to Missy. Her head rests in your lap, over the thick blanket that covers you, her eyes fixed on the horror film playing out on the television. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, first of all, I don’t recall telling you to stop.” She looks up at you with a quirk of her eyebrow, rolling her eyes to indicate her hairline. With a fond scoff you resume gently scratching her head. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Mistress is fine.” Judging by the sharp smile that flashes across her face, she doesn’t miss the choked noise you make. “It’s a revenge film. I mean, look,” she gestures to the screen, “everyone who was nasty to her is dying. It’s poetic justice.”

“Like Carrie?” You prompt helpfully, smoothing a frustrated line from her forehead.

“Exactly like Carrie.” She wrinkles her nose. “But with worse practical effects.”

“I s’pose they all look fairly bad to you.”

“Hmm. It’s like pornography.” Your fingers falter against her scalp and she chuckles. “Pales in comparison once you’ve done the real thing.”

You look back at the television, debating for a moment whether to speak, but curled on the sofa here with her it all feels so much simpler. With forced casualness, you ask, “do you miss it?”

“Pornography?” She snorts. “Sometimes. I had a lot of me time in the vault.”

“No!” Feeling heat rise into your cheeks, you swat the side of her head very gently with your palm. She laughs. “I mean-”

“I know what you mean.” She takes your other hand - the one resting on her shoulder - and brings it down to her lips, kissing your palm. It makes you melt. “Which answer do you want? The good one, or the bad one?”

“Just the real one, Missy.” You lace your fingers through hers. “I don’t mind what that is.”

With a soft exhale, she clutches your hand to her chest. You can feel her hearts beating. “Like I said. Sometimes.” She throws a sideways glance up at you and you smile.

“That makes sense.”

“Does it?” So much aching vulnerability in the question. You squeeze her hand.

“Yeah. Makes sense to me.”

She nods like she doesn’t quite agree, and the movement turns into a nuzzle against your thigh. Taking the hint, you set up the rhythm of light scratches through her hair once more. “We still have to talk, don’t we?”

“Yeah. I think so.” She presses your palm tighter into her blouse. Her eyes are still red and puffy. “But not right now. Unless you want to.”

“Not right now,” she echoes softly, and ducks her head to kiss your knuckles. Her head twists in your lap as she settles herself again.

“Are you sure you don’t want a pillow?”

“Positive.” Her lips tilt at the corners. “This is perfect.”

Yes, is all you can think, watching the red-and-blue light of the television flashing on her pale face. She hums contentedly when you scratch behind her ear.

This is perfect.

[books-and-dragons]

hey, can you do 'you still don't feel like eating' from the whump one? persona 5, with the coffee dad!

you got it anon!! Thank you so much for dropping a request by.

i went a little over my original ‘word count’ with this but oh well

Fandom: Persona 5Summary: Akira’s been sick for days now, unable to so much as get out of bed and Sojiro’s starting to worry about his health, especially when it comes time for Akira to take his medication- but he hasn’t been able to hold down anything solid since he fell ill.

Prompt request came from this post, if anyone’s curious or wants to make their own request

The sun had barely risen when Sojiro entered the café,locking the door behind him, before he swept past the counter, past the apronshanging on the side, and began to climb the stairs by the far end of the coffeeshop.

The attic of Leblanc was warmer than usual, and the openwindow did little more than allow a small breeze into the room- which seemed tobe of little comfort to the figure shaking on the bed in the far corner.

Sojiro’s face fell as he carefully walked towards thefigure, slowly sitting on the mattress beside him.

“Akira? Hey come on, look at me.”

Blearily, long lashes fluttered open to reveal hazed greyeyes, which blinked slowly at their caretaker.

“S-Soj-“ A series of coughs wracked the teen’s already-weakframe, “Sojiro?”

The man resisted the urge to sigh at his charge’s voice, itwas no less rough than yesterday.

Infact, none of his charge seemed any better than yesterday.

Wild charcoal-black hair that normally splayed out in everydirection was plastered to his face, which held small drips of sweat on itsforehead, uncertain eyes blinked up at the older man, cracked lips opening andclosing to try and ask god knows how many questions that the kid shouldn’t befocusing on right now. Despite the thick blanket thrown over him, the teen wasstill shivering, curled up under the quilt.

Firmly, a fuzzy head nudged against Sojiro’s arm. As helooked down, bright blue eyes peered up at him.

Morgana had yet to leave the kid’s side, incessantlymeowing, refusing to leave even for food- Sojiro had taken to bringing itupstairs for the cat, when it had become apparent the feline wouldn’t beleaving for anything. At least one of them was eating.

“Hey kid,” Sojiro offered a careful smile, but inwardlyfrowned at the heavy bags under his charge’s eyes. They’d gotten darker. “Stillnot sleeping? Just nod or shake your head, you know what the doctor said aboutstraining yourself.”

Slowly, Akira shook his head, looking almost guilty.

“Well, I suppose the best we can do is make sure you stayrested, I’ve got the medication Takemi brought over,” Sojiro glanced to thewindowsill, where a bottle of water sat, untouched, “I’ll go get you a freshwater- but you need to drink this one, okay?”

Akira opened his mouth, about to retort,

“I know it’ll hurt, but you need to stay hydrated to feelbetter.” Sojiro sighed, getting up, “I’ll be two minutes.”

Slowly, the raven haired teen nodded, watching as Sojirowalked across the room and descended the stairs.

“He’s right you know.” Morgana curled up by his side, hishead resting on Akira’s arm as he gazed up at the teen, “You need to starttaking better care of yourself, that’s why you ended up like this to startwith.”

Akira sighed, slowing raising his other hand to rake it overMorgana’s fur. The gentle purrs that resulted filled the silence, distinctlyAkira could hear the rattling of pills, the opening of the fridge, and othersounds coming from downstairs.

Eventually, the stairs began to creak as Sojiro returned,carrying an assortment of pills, a bottle of water, and some okayu, all ofwhich he gently settled on the shelf beside the bed, moving aside the swanboat.

“Takemi said you should take these with food-“

Feverently, Akira shook his head, but soon regretted it as asharp pain emanated across his skull.

Sojiro frowned, “You stilldon’t feel like eating? It’s been days now kid, you need to eat.” At the kid’sdesperate expression, eyes wide with helplessness, pleading- Sojiro resistedthe urge to give in, “I know it hurts, okay? But you won’t feel better unlessyou start eating again. At least try, please kid.”

Maybe Sojiro was starting to sound desperate, but they kidhadn’t eaten in three days, at this point he was past caring.

Akira paused, eyes flickering to Morgana, who gazed up athim pleadingly, and Sojiro, who was holding the bowl carefully and staring athim so openly he had to repress a flinch away. Sojiro hadn’t looked like thatsince he told the thieves about Futaba’s self-imposed isolation months ago.

Slowly, Akira nodded and had to fight the small smile asMorgana’s purrs seemed to increase in volume. The cat got up as Akira began toshift, raising himself on his forearms, waiting to take the bowl.

At Akira’s expectant gaze, Sojiro frowned.

“No kid, you can barely hold yourself upright,” With onehand, Sojiro manoeuvred the pillows to rest against the wall, gently easingAkira back so they propped him up, “Stay there okay?”

A weight settled on his lap, Morgana’s purrs relaxed his asSojiro picks up the bowl, one hand raising a spoon that only had a small amountof rice pudding on the tip. As the warden looked to his charge, Akira realisedwhat was going on, and he felt his face burn.

Sojiro sighed, raising one eyebrow, “Don’t tell me you’reabout to get all embarrassed over this, come on, you heard what Takemi saidyesterday. It’s food or an IV drip. Your choice.”

Akira blanched.

The room was cold, andhe could feel a sharp prick in his neck…as he struggled, tight grips held himdown, mocking laughter invaded his ears and something was injected into him. Itwas cold, invasive. He didn’t know what it was. Everything was so hazy…..

Akira’s shoulder slumped, he accepted his fate.

Sojiro tilted his head, raising the spoon, “See not thathard, was it?”

As the utensil neared, Akira tentatively opened his mouth,leaning forward slightly to accept the food.

The substance was thick and heavy, rather tasteless, andAkira’s first instinct was to spit it out. But Morgana and Sojiro were watchinghim so expectantly, so hopefully.

Slowly, he swallowed, and subsequently failed to hide theflinch that happened as a result- the feeling of sharp needles stabbing histhroat making itself known.

The pain was intense, burning down his throat in a way hehadn’t experienced in days. Akira felt his stomach clench, and he doubled over,harsh shuddering breaths wracked his body. Dimly, he could taste salt- was hecrying? He couldn’t tell, and as warm arms pulled him into an embrace, Akiraallowed himself this cry.

Gently, one hand began to weave its way through his damplocks, soft utterances of condolences and reassurances whispered in his ear asAkira began to try regulate his breathing.

“You’re okay, come on, just take some deep breaths okay? I’mhere, shh.”

Akira hadn’t known comfort like this in years, since he wasa child. He didn’t realise how much he had missed the affection and care, the love of a parent….would it be so wrongto rest against Sojiro a few moments longer?

But he was already being a burden.

Akira pulled away, hastily bringing up a shaking arm to wipeat the stray tears on his face, as he leaned back against the pillows. Vaguely,he was aware of Morgana settling back on his lap, as he slowly met the eyes ofhis warden.

Sojiro didn’t offer any judgement, and instead smiled at himsoftly.

“I know, it hurts, I’ll not make you finish it all. A fewmore spoons, take your meds, then you can rest it off, okay?”

Akira nodded, just wanting to get it over with.

As Sojiro carefully spooned another portion, and took itAkira’s way, he made light conversation. Akira appreciated it, it served as agood distraction from the intensifying pain burning his throat.

“Futaba keeps trying to come over you know? She got real pissy when I told her you weren’ttaking visitors, so did those friends of yours too. I’m sure you’re gonna havea lot of messages to respond to once you’re feeling better.” Another spoon, “You’llnever guess who walked into Leblanc the other day, this old politician who usedto be in the Diet when I worked for the Government. They call him ‘No GoodTora’ from a nasty scandal he was in 20 years ago- left the Diet after that-but he seemed so much more at ease and confident than when we were younger.Although, I suppose you know all about that- he asked after you.” Akira watchedyet another nearing spoon carefully, but didn’t reject it, “Geez kid just howmany people do you know? You got more connections than people who’ve lived inthis city all their lives, no wonder you’re so worked to the ground.” Morganapurred lightly, a constant support dutifully watching over him.

“You’re doing great, last one, okay?”

Akira nodded, eager to get it over with as he accepted thelast portion, recoiling slightly as his throat burned.

He allowed himself a moment of reprieve, closing his eyes ashe listened to the gentle thud of the bowl being placed down (and goodriddance), instead the shaking of pills sounded through the room.

“Do you really need three different types of medication?”Sojiro sighed, and as Akira opened his eyes he saw one vibrant pint tablet anda small white one already in hand, as the older man tipped out one final yellowpill from the final bottle. “I’ll keep an eye on the timings for these, sodon’t worry about that.”

Sojiro placed the medication in Akira’s open palm beforereaching over to get the water, straw added to the bottle.

Akira took one deep breath, steeling his resolve, beforethrowing the tablets back- Sojiro bringing the straw up to his lips straightaway.

Swallowing the medication burnt more than he hadanticipated, and as he bundled the quilt under his vice grip, waiting for theworst of it to pass, one hand came to rest over his own.

Sojiro’s hands were bigger than his, warm and rough- thecallouses probably from all the café work. But as they rubbed a circle into theback of his hand, Akira focuses on nothing but that constant presence. Even asthe pain began to subside, and his own tight grip of the quilt lessened, Sojirodidn’t let go.

“It’s over, you did it Akira.” Akira didn’t have much energyto muster more than a noncommittal ‘hm’ as his warden continued, “Man you looknearly out of it, well Takemi did say the pills should help knock ya out- godknows you need it.” Sojiro began to pull away, hands leaving his, “Try andsleep kid, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Half delirious, on the verge of passing out where he lay,Akira couldn’t help the whine that escaped him as Sojiro made to leave.

It stunned the man into stopping, rushing back to where hesat.

“S-stay….please?”

Those slate grey eyes were blearily with fatigue, but theway they regarded Sojiro, so wide and hopeful, caused a bittersweet smile towork its way onto Sojiro’s face. He’d never seen the kid be so open about hisfeelings, he was always so guarded- something left over from his parents,Sojiro had no doubt.

But that was a problem he would raise another day, whenAkira was fit and healthy again. When they’re both working in Leblanc on a slowevening. It’s not a conversation for today.

Sojiro nodded at Akira, “I’m not leaving, okay? I’ll beright here.”

He began to weave one hand through raven-haired locks,repetitive and constant. Akira hummed contentedly as he leaned into the touch,eyes fluttering shut.

“S-sorry. Be-be-being a pa-in.” Akira pressed out, face screwedup in something aside from pain, and Sojiro shook his head- even if you kidcouldn’t see that.

“You are never apain, Akira.”

The boy didn’t have a response for that. Maybe he didn’tknow what to say, or maybe he was just too tired to muster a response.

Either way, they stayed like that.

Sojiro, running a hand through Akira’s hair, as the catcurled up on his lap purred soothingly. By the worktop, if you looked you wouldsee the kid’s phone lighting up none stop, well wishes continued on from the pastcouple of days.

Eventually, Akira’s breath evened out, as he fell into adeep sleep.

The sun was starting to rise higher in the sky, people wouldbe going about their day soon- Leblanc should probably open for business, themenu for the day should be being prepared. Some customers like to come early ona morning, and Leblanc was always open to those customers. He needed to go andopen the café.

Even then, Sojiro indulged in staying with Akira. Just amoment longer.

[feralquirks]

missing girl himiko - ch2

ch1 / ch3 / ch4.

Life in the Quirk Facility wasn’t all that terrible.

The kids were fed good food and given time to play and hang out when they weren’t under testing by the bald doctor or Mr. Yanagisawa. Himiko liked the hangout room the best, she thinks. She got to meet the others who were in the Quirk Facility too!

There weren’t many kids left ever since Injection day; whenever she asked, Mr. Yanagisawa would simply answer that they got sick and were transferred to another part of the facility but were perfectly fine. There was an edge in his soft voice when he said this, his eyes squinting just a little too much.

While Himiko was keen on the fact the man was definitely not… telling the full truth, at least, she had sense enough not to push the subject. The last time she showed attitude to them, they put her in the Punishment Room for a whole day…

There were six kids left in this side of the facility, and she heard that there were going to be two more transfers sometime soon.

The day after her check up, she was forced in bedrest, sniffling and resting on her stomach with her back exposed, medicine slathered all over her charred skin. She stayed that way for two days, and with special help from a new nicer doctor who helped her get up and stretch and go to the restroom and eat whenever it was time. Thankfully, by the third day, they brought in a doctor with a healing quirk and the pain was almost gone after the treatment.

They said she was a success, and she was praised highly for it. They said they’d start using that treatment for the other children too. Regrettably, however, they also said she wasn’t done with her treatment either. She had successfully retracted the tentacles back to her but has been unable to call them back. Not only that, but there’s been this dull thumping in the back of her head, feeling almost deep in her brain…

Threatening to spill.

But the medications she was forced to take were helping. A bit.

It was about four days after her first treatment when she was finally allowed back into the Hangout room. She went to her usual corner, the beat-up bean bag on the white carpet where dolls and various books laid scattered. As she sat down, she ignored the pinching in her neck and instead brought her favorite Hello Kitty doll to her chest, studying the room around her. There were only three of the six kids she knew with her, each doing different things almost mechanically. Their movements were stiff, almost painful.

Himiko cringed. She could relate.

With a huff, the blonde pulled herself from her comfy seat and made her way to the group, her doll still tight in her grip. It was like a comfort to her.

She sat down in the middle of them all, clearing her throat—they all looked at her, a small smile on the peach-haired boy’s face. Tobiko was his name. Number fifteen.

She liked Tobiko, he was nice. And interesting—despite being quirkless, he had pointy ears and strange eyes! He was also a lot older than she was, and she often wondered how he ended up here; if they all were the same.

“Hello,” she greeted the three. “How was your treatments?”

Tobiko sat down by the girl, his legs folded under him while his hands rested on his knees. “Mine was a success.”

The two girls, Ayane and Estuko (Numbers twelve and six) joined the two, crossing their legs and smiling their tired smiles.

Estuko nodded. “As was mine.”

Ayane shook her head. “They said I’ll need another injection today. Apparently someone messed up with the doses and it wasn’t enough or something.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to go through the electroshock for nothing, did you?” Tobiko frowned.

Himiko shivered at the thought—that’d be awful! And she heard there were other treatments after the shock treatment just in case the first round didn’t trigger the tentacles. The doctor had said the tentacles were currently “programmed” to respond to pain, if they successfully integrate in the person, that is. After they’re activated, they weren’t supposed to hurt anymore, right? Ayane and Estuko then explained that they’ve been experiencing sharp pains in their neck and head.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the new transfers?” Ayane started, leaning forward.

Himiko nodded. “They said they ‘have their eye on two’—er, at least that’s what I heard from my nurse yesterday.”

Estuko bounced in her seat. “I know, isn’t it so exciting? This place is changing lives! Soon, they’ll be giving this quirk to quirkless adults, too!”

Tobiko seemed a bit unnerved, shuffling uncomfortably. “I almost don’t want that,” he hummed.

“Huh?” Ayane tilted her head. “Why’d’ya say that?”

The freckled boy shrugged, leaning back on his hands. “Unless they, like, fix their ‘pain activation’ crap, I’d like to live without chronic pain, thank you very much.”

Estuko nodded along with a hum. “...Yeah, I kinda agree. They’re only in their beta stages though, right?”

“Then why test it on a bunch of kids like us?”

“Um, me and Estuko are technically adults, Ayane.”

She finger gunned. “Right.”

Himiko hummed, hugging her Hello Kitty doll closer and pursing her lips. “I wish it would go by faster. I wanna see my Momma and Daddy again.”

The three glanced at her with frowns. She was the youngest in the group, wasn’t she? Tobiko propped his leg up, slinging his arm around his knee. “Y’ever stop to realize we were, like… legitimately kidnapped from our homes?”

They grew quiet, not knowing what to say to that before Mr. Yanagisawa entered the room, a pensive look in his eyes that were poorly disguised by his smile. “Greetings, children. Number fifteen, can you come with me? It’s time for your check up.”

Tobiko quirked a brow. “I had mine this morning.”

“Yes,” Mr. Yanagisawa’s smile grew strained. “And you’re due for another one, Number Fifteen.”

The four children traded nervous glances at each other before Tobiko stood himself up and began rubbing his arm nervously. He glanced at Himiko for a moment before obediently following Mr. Yanagisawa out. The blonde saw how the scientist clamped his hand down hard on the shorter boy.

She turned her golden gaze back to the two girls in front of her, frowning. Ayane and Estuko scooted closer to her leaned in. “He’s right, though,” Estuko whispered.

Ayane nodded, and they fell back into a tense silence and the two older girls got up to mess around with their own favorite things—Estuko with a rubix cube and Ayane with some drawing paper.  

After a while of it, Himiko grew restless and raised her head, opening her mouth to speak but paused when she saw Estuko drop her rubix cube and began to twitch. Her hands were tense and in a claw-form, the muscles in her arms tight and her body jerked onto the floor. Himiko and Ayane screamed and stood up like the floor had burned them—instantly, nurses flooded the room, crowding around Estuko while ushering the other two girls out of the room.

They were at the brink of tears being led back to the eating area, both holding each others’ hands and trying to get the image of Estuko hitting the ground with her eyes rolled up and white spit dripping out—Himiko shook her head, pursing her lips as she fought the tears.

What had happened? Everything was fine—she was doing fine working on the dumb color box before she just...dropped.

That night, Himiko couldn’t sleep very well. It was probably the worst night she’s ever had to endure, especially since the pain in her back wouldn’t leave her be and her head felt like it was about to crack in two.

In the middle of the night, there was a scream that pierced her ears—fear gripped her heart with a claw of ice, squeezing it and paralyzing her where she laid. The rumble of feet passed by outside her room.

Ayane’s room was in that direction.

Himiko buried herself under her blanket and pillow, forcing the tears to go away.

The next day, Himiko was the only one left in the Hangout Room. When she asked about them, Mr. Yanagisawa said Estuko and Ayane had been transferred to the other building, and Tobiko was recovering from treatment today.