#Put away two baskets of clothes and cleaned the bathroom and straightened up the bedroom!

[yadivagirl]

Not sure how many people are still listening to this podcast but I find it to be wonderful background noise while cleaning.

Anyway, may I suggest tuning in to the episode featuring John Lock. He was there from the pilot through season six. The way he got the gig was so fortuitous and crazy. It was interesting to hear how things worked with the band (and a little insane, imho). Plus, he's a lovely, sweet guy. Very enjoyable to listen to.

#And That's What You Really Missed Podcast #John Locke #Good episode #Put away two baskets of clothes and cleaned the bathroom and straightened up the bedroom!

[waywardimpalawriter]

Laundry Day (Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader)

Laundry Day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

Bucky Bingo Square: Domestic AU

Characters: Bucky Barnes,

Setting: two months from the ending of “Hey Bartender”, set in the Marvel universe but canon diverged the snap never happened.

Rating: M (Mature), +18 only please

Warnings: cursing, mature themes, angst, longing/yearning, idiots pining for one another,

Word count: 3,002

Summary: Sunday’s the dreaded laundry day when there’s not a stitch of clothing to wear except the man your currently crushing on, soft Henley shirt.

Notes: Bingo Square fill and written for the lovey @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and Write Wednesday prompt.

Tag list: @buckybingo​

You’ve heard it many time, how cool you own a bar. Can drink whenever you want. Let me drink for free. Last thought getting a snort from your lips while looking through the laundry pile. The main reason owning you a business sucked you never get a day off to do normal shit like the fucking laundry that seems to pile up before you know what’s happened. Wondering if like rabbits it multiples while mating.

Huffing out a resigned sigh, tossing the last article of dirty clothing back into the basket thankful you wouldn’t need to schlep the bags to a local laundromat. Instead could get a little light cleaning done while the built in laundry room, a big thank you too granddad for putting the room in, did at least part of the work.

“Fucking hate laundry day,” low growl leaving your lips and tugging on the only clean clothes left.

Hefting the plastic basket on to your generous hip, grabbing the towel off the bedroom doorknob to add and heading towards the small room just off the bathroom to the left. Dropping the basket down you go back out to put on some music. Grabbing up your cell phone happy to have brought large capacity storage so your whole collection could fit. Setting all of Lady Gaga’s music on shuffle ‘Monster’ flowing through the small speakers positioned around your living room in specific areas for optimal sound quality. Wide hips swaying to the beat black Henley brushing the tops of your thick thighs incased in shorts, knee high socks keeping the rest of your legs warm and helping you slide across the oak wood floors. Not caring what you look like at the moment, expecting no one to show up on an early Sunday morning.

Bright smile slides over your lips the song changing to ‘Born this way’ belting out the words thankful and not for the first time you don’t have neighbors. Owning the whole building does come with certain perks. Meaning it didn’t matter how loud you got no one would call the cops on you for excessive noise or lousy singing. With those thoughts in mind you head back to start sorting clothes getting a load going, grabbing the swiffers dust clothes, mop and bucket on your way out.

Leaving the last two by the kitchen island, spinning back body moving to the beat of the music. Picking up bits of trash making you frown for a moment, knowing you weren’t that messy but shrugging off the thought tossing the trash. Starting to dance around, straightening lamps, running the dust cloth over the expanse of hard wood furniture and nick knacks from your childhood. Getting into the rhythm, beat caressing your body, tingling your senses making you move in ways you wouldn’t show another living soul only these four walls.

Finishing up the living room, you stand back to catch a breath admiring your handing work when ‘Shallow’ starts to play. Bradly Cooper’s smooth tenor caressing your ears a soft sigh leaving your lips. Your body starts to move to the melody, slow and sensuous, arms wrapping around your tummy as you sway. Twirling as Lady Gaga’s voice takes over, stepping around the couch that faces towards the tv positioned in the middle of a brick wall. Bursting out to sing the chorus, you keep swaying picking the tempo up. Draping your body backwards over the couch careful not to knock a lamp off the side table. Grabbing up a remote to use as a makeshift microphone, singing your heart out to no one but the empty room or so you think.

Raising back up slowly to spin away still belting out the lyrics breathlessly, wide smile on your face happiness thumping through your veins. Feeling freer than you have in a long time all thanks to a song that comes to an end with loud clapping ringing through your apartment. Making you scream out and throw the remote towards the source of the nose. Squeak existing your breathless lips that hang open staring at Bucky Barnes’s imposing figure filling the doorway of your apartment.

Catching the black plastic wrapped remote in his flesh hand before it landed against his chest, smirk sliding over those oh so kissable lips. Not that you haven’t dreamt of at least a couple nights a week. “Fucking hell Barnes how long have you been standing there?” Quickly moving towards your phone to cut the music.

Turning to take in his rumpled appearance. Chestnut hair tucked back into a messy ponytail few wisps hanging out to frame his face. Sculpted by the finest artists all angles and edges begging for your lips to caress. That’s graced with shadows of a sleepless night of tossing and turning in a to soft bed and a floor too cold for comfort. Sold wall of muscle that is his shoulders and chest covered in a wrinkled green Henley top button open to bare just a hint of collarbone. You try not to lick dry lips at the peek of skin wanting to bury your nose in the hollow of his throat and nibble to see what sounds you could drag from those sinful lips. Snapping back to the present when he begins to speak before your wondering eyes could take in the bottom half of his fackable body. They lock with his for a moment longer than proper catching the dark circles and weariness he tries to hide behind that boyish smile.  

“Long enough,” clearing his throat to push down the arousal building up. In truth he tried knocking first, pounding followed with a couple of shouts of your name to accompany. Hearing the music spilling from behind the close door Bucky pulled the key you gave him last month out to let himself in.

Unprepared for the sight his eyes would land upon after pushing the old hard oak door open. Music hitting him square in the ears, not unpleasant a tune but a touch loud. However, that’s not what caught his eyes, no it’s the way you moved around the apartment to the melody. Body swaying, rolling and bending in ways that had him gritting his teeth to keep from stepping forward and pulling your soft body against his strong chest. Wanting to fill the spot of invisible partner, dipping you in his arms, wrapping them around your thick waist. Teasing the column of your throat with his lips after bending you backwards over his arm.

You’re a fucking temptation to his body and damnation to his heart and soul. One Bucky Barnes would gladly partake of if he didn’t feel so tainted, hands coated in invisible blood, mind splintered with nightmares of memories and lies. He wouldn’t saddle you with him as a burden. He’d push those feelings back bury them, accepting the friendship you offer and a shelter from a world he’s yet to fully grow accustom too.

Hands on your wide hips, scowl contorting your beautiful features, “I didn’t give you that key so you could barge in whenever you like Bucky.”

“I brought breakfast,” pointing towards the little white bags on the small wooden table by the door. Giving you the saddest puppy eyes he could which only makes you huff and roll your own.

Shaking your head, “You think you’re cute don’t ya Barnes?” Trying to infuse a touch of anger into your tone but it comes out more playful teasing than growling menace.

“Of course doll, you wouldn’t have me any other way,” wiggling his brow, scooping up the bags to follow you into the kitchen. Kicking something over he looks down teasing smirk slides over his lips before giving way to a playfully sheepish look, “Guess I finally kicked the bucket huh?”

Trying to hold back the laughter but it comes out on a snort that has a deep gruff laugh issuing from Bucky which in turn makes you giggle harder. Holding your stomach as it aches from the mirth lighting your features. Taking notice of the fact years have disappeared from the weariness he normally carries. Eyes sparkling in early morning sunlight shining in from the kitchen window. His beautiful steals your breath for a moment as you calm down, turning to start the Keurig, reaching for the pods of coffee you keep just for Bucky.

“Incorrigible Barnes, sit ya ass down while I make coffee,” couple of short giggles break free with another shake of your head.

Placing the bags down before dropping into his usual seat, “Two…”

“Spoonfuls of sugar no cream or milk I remember along with the dark roast that’s your favorite,” shooting him a smile. Grabbing your cell, changing the music to shuffle your whole library, turning the volume down so its more background noise than actually listening. “What brings you by this morning? Besides taking ten years off my life of course.”  

Snorting at your quip with trying to hide that he’s smitten by the fact you’ve memorized how he likes his coffee. “Hadn’t seen you in a week doll, thought I’d drop in with breakfast and see if you need help with anything down in the bar.”

Taking a few moments to actually looking over your plush frame. Big mistake because he notices how those shorts mold to your wide hips and thick thighs begging for attention. Knee high socks shouldn’t look so damn sexy but on you he’s shifting in his seat to take pressure off the erection building in his jeans. Eyes dancing to take in your upper half damn near choking on his own spit at seeing you wear his Henley. Stretched out with age and use from his days in hiding and a little thicker in build. The way it stretched over your lush breasts cupping the generous globes outlined for his eyes to devour. Flowing against your tummy he wouldn’t object to laying his head on while cuddling into your body. Wanting to place kisses and nibbles on the skin hidden from his widening cerulean eyes. Shocking him back to reality with you placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of him.

Palm going to his forehead, “Really doll, what exactly are you feeling for?” Glancing up to search your turned down face. Catching the soft scent of Egyptian musk, mixed with clean linen and something sweet added that he’s sure belongs solely to you.

“Seeing if you have a fever, you checked out on me there for a few moments Barnes,” gently pressing the pads of your fingers into his neck, counting a pulse and sending goosebumps to skitter across his body.

Taking the hand from his body, the urge to pull you into his lap strong with your warmth radiating into his. “I’m fine sweetheart honest just lost in thought of this beautiful dame I know.”

“Lucky woman,” slowly pulling your hand back tramping down on the hurt flashing through your body. Heading back to start your own coffee, “Make yourself at home as usual,” shaking your head watching Bucky toe off his biker boots and prop his mismatched sock feet into the closest chair. Rolling your eyes, “Way to comfortable,” exasperated quip leaving your mouth as you head back and change laundry over.

“What’s with the get up anyway?” Not wanting to shout, Bucky followed to lean against the door jam of the all to small room. Coffee mug hovering near his lips thankful for not taking a sip when you bent over to add cloths to the dry.

Plush ass on display for his eyes to map, flesh hand tightening around ceramic mug while vibranium plates whirl with a clinched fist at his side. Tempting isn’t even a word he’d use to describe the torture your presenting him with. Quickly averting his eyes to the ceiling, but not before catching the peek of silken looking skin his shirt bares while sliding up. Searching now for something to distract himself. Before he did a very stupid thing like pull you into his arms and see if you fit against him like he’s imagined one too many times. Burying his face in your neck and tease the tender skin with three days worth of beard wanting to see if you’re sensitive and ticklish.  

Brought back from those sexual thoughts when you speak, words tossed over your shoulder, “It’s all I had to wear, everything else needed washing. Price I pay for owning and running my own bar,” shrugging you bend to pick up the next load swearing you hear a groan from the man behind you. Yet when you turn he just gives you a smile that seems to make his cerulean eyes dance.

“Ah that explains why you’re wearing my shirt though not how you got it,” against better judgement, Bucky reaches out to tug the hem. Baring a briefest hint of cleavage to his desire darken eyes, with all three buttons open. He swallows harshly taking a bigger sip of his hot coffee than meaning to but the slight burning mouth pain distracts him from those thoughts that could get him into trouble. “I’m not complaining doll just curious if you’re stealing my clothes when you come over to my place.”

Snorting, “It’s not your shirt Barnes, your clothes wouldn’t fit my wide ass,” placing a hand on his shoulder to push him out the doorway. “If anything it’s from a pervious boyfriend and just stretched out.” Though you can’t help but glance down at the shirt racking your brain to remember who left it behind. Till you remember not having a boyfriend for the last couple of years and even then you didn’t let them keep stuff at your apartment. Only Bucky, who has his own key and drops by when he needs a break from the Compound and Avenging. Eyes widen in shock at the realization that in fact this shirt belongs to Bucky and must’ve got put in with your laundry one of the last times he stayed the night after a bad mission.

Deep in thought, you miss the low growl leave his throat at the mention of other men or the way he frowns when you insult yourself. “You have a gorgeous ass doll stop putting yourself down,” gently grabbing your upper arm to spin you around and face him. “And yes that is my shirt, there’s a stain,” swallowing hard but still brushes his fingers over the darken slightly yellow patch between your breasts. “Right here, it’s dripped mustard from a Coney dog about three weeks back remember. We went to Coney Island since you never went, sharing the cotton candy and almost getting sick,” soft chuckle leaving his parted lips. “You’re laughter at the corny shows, riding the Ferris wheel, I almost felt normal for once,” vibranium hand dropping back to his side, he heads to the table and plops down into his previous seat. Cursing his actions, head cradled in his hands hiding from his behavior and you. Wanting the earth to swallow him whole for his stupidity in voicing those words instead of keeping them bottled up. For touching you without asking permission, but God does he want a repeat and this time not let go.  

Frozen by his words, heart aching for how he still feels, the searing touch of those cool metal fingers, but most of all by the realization he remembered a day you hold dear to your heart. Eyes close for a moment to gather your thoughts, taking a deep breath and heading for your cooling coffee. “What’d you bring for breakfast?” distracting them both of you from the elephant in the room.  

Head popping up so quickly your sure he’s cracked his neck, half smile tugging at his lips, but not reaching his eyes, “Your favorites of course.” Reaching for the bags to pull out a small assortment of breakfast pastries.

“Trying to fatten me up Barnes?” You jest though back peddle at the scowl Bucky sends you. “Okay, okay I won’t do that again,” hands up in surrender but under your breath, “till your gone.”

Caught in mid sip, “You do know I have superior hearing right?”

“Your point Superman?” Bringing your mug with to sit down on Bucky’s left.

“I heard what you muttered,” grabbing the cream cheese kolache and taking a health bite while keeping eye contact with you.

Shrugging, “Then I’ll keep those thoughts to myself from now on,” picking out your favorite pastry to nibble on. “Oh and don’t worry I’ll get your shirt back to you once the rest of my clothes finish. I’m sorry it’s so stretched out.”

“One of these days doll,” muttering the rest to himself. Thoughts running through his mind on how much he’d like to bend you over his lap or better yet spread out for him to taste. Till you understood the beauty held in your countenance, the sway of your wide hips and plush body. Learning just what you do to his body and heat. But he knew those imagines held a deeper sway than you’d let anyone else see. Ones needing more than searing touches and intimate kisses but true actions to show you the truth.

Confident on the outside but tormented by dark thoughts and self doubts. That revelation skitters across Bucky’s mind like hot iron dunked into cool water, shocking his system to how similar though different as well, in ways he didn’t want to examine not yet. Registering the last comment Bucky looks up at you, tracing the features of your face, how your body looks in his shirt with golden sunlight bathing you in a warm halo. Speaking the words before his brain can shut them off, “Keep the shirt doll it looks so much better on you and by the way you didn’t stretch it out I did.” Flashing you his patent smirk before taking another drink of lukewarm coffee. Never so thankful for laundry day, stretched out shirts and the beauty sitting next to him.

#Bucky bingo #Writer Wednesday #Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader #Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Fem!Reader #Bucky Barnes x Plus Size F!Reader #Bucky Barnes fiction #Pining/yearning

[keilemdarkmode]

preened

🚫contains themes of abuse, noncon/dubcon, yandere 🚫

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x (fem)reader

word count: 4.2k

settling in keigo’s arms was far easier than facing his weapons and wrath.

warnings: noncon/dubcon/rape, blood violence, manipulation, yandere, drowning, mention of branding, abuse, somehow STILL soft, bathing/bath tub shit

--

a/n: wow fellas, first yan hawks piece!! PLEASE!! heed the warnings!! this is not soft and tender, it is fucked up, sad, dark, and tender! if its not your thing, please keep scrolling ❤️

that being said, this piece was beta’ed by the lovely @hawnks. it was interesting and new to explore these themes and ideas and im happy to share them now :’^) enjoy!

||||||||||||||||||||

Keigo could be cruel.

You knew that too well.

But, lately, he’d been kinder. Softer, without so many barbs and blades just behind his words and actions.

You knew, very consciously, that this was due to your good behavior after the ‘feather’ incident, but that knowledge didn’t dull the sweetness too much.

(Only a little.)

...

“Dove, are you falling asleep?” Keigo’s voice was far too mirthful as he carded a hand through your hair.

You grumbled, something lighthearted and muffled into his chest.

You had been nodding off, Keigo’s arm slack over your shoulder as he idly watched a film that you were sure he wasn’t paying attention to.

An afternoon off together was rare, and you didn’t want to spoil it.

Asking Keigo to put on a movie and ‘snuggle’ got him red-faced and poofy-feathered, he all but dragged you to the couch to pamper you for the day.

It would’ve been endearing if you’d wanted to be there.

Maybe, sometime back, you would’ve fought.

When Keigo brought you the fluffy, red blanket he loved sharing with you, you might’ve spit on it, maybe on him. Thrown the blanket back into his face only to laugh at the anger and rage he would inevitably erupt into before throwing you over his knee.

Maybe, once, you would have tried to scald Keigo with the steaming tea he brought you (prepared just as you liked, it was one of the first things he memorized about you). You would’ve probably aimed for his face— maybe, his wings, if you were feeling particularly stupid.

Now?

You smiled, maybe something real, as you took the blanket from his waiting arms. You let him blow on your tea with his pretty pink lips as he insisted he’d ‘never let you get burned’.

(You both knew that the ‘fire’ incident was too far. You’d been vacant for a month after Keigo had pulled that stunt.)

“Thank you,” You kissed his cheek, like he wanted you to.

Maybe you should’ve been disgusted. Instead, the contact felt nice. Touch starvation had long since set in, and Keigo was your only outlet. And he was very willing.

The afternoon had been easy, nice. You’d let him play with your hair, mindful to tuck your braced arm to your tummy under the blanket. Keigo tended to be a bit more on edge when he was reminded of the ‘feather’ incident.

It was easier to keep it hidden.

“Dear?” Keigo asked, nuzzling into the crown of your head. “When was the last time we gave you a proper bath?”

You tensed so hard, you might as well have been stone.

Baths were still bad, even after so long.

You figured it out, after a while. It was one of Keigo’s subconscious avian instincts, to keep him and his mate clean and looking well.

It was why he always sat in front of you to allow you to pick through and straighten his feathers. It was vulnerable, the way he shivered and shuddered and fucking moaned as you would straighten and pluck what you could.

It was why he scrutinized the brushing of your teeth so heavily, scoffing at your lack of ‘precision’ and ‘attention to detail’. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d brushed them yourself. Keigo would always just seat you on the cold marble counter, slot himself between your legs while vice-gripping your jaw and gagging you with a toothbrush.

Though, he had been more gentle lately. Nicer.

He’d been more like the ‘mate’ he’d always described himself being.

Your role to Keigo was why he had full autonomy over bathing you.

He could take showers and baths alone, all as he pleased. But, you were washed by his hands only. Even the quick showers after he’d fuck you silly, he was always with you, scrubbing you down with special soaps and a soft cloth.

“Dove?” Keigo’s voice came kindly, yet his grip tightened. “I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

“You did, I’m sorry,” The response came from your lips hurriedly. “It’s been a while.”

Keigo hummed, clicking his tongue and sitting up fully, “I’ll set up the bath then. I’ll take a shower later so I can make sure you’re squeaky clean now, how about that?”

You nodded, knowing better than to disagree with him.

When Keigo had first brought you ‘home’, he’d take your baths with you. He’d pull you tight to his chest, try to, as you struggled and screamed.

He snapped once, letting his anger get the better of him when you bit him so hard on his forearm that he bled.

Though, it wasn’t his blood that stained the bathwater that night.

It was the first time he showed you how much soft damage he could inflict with his sharpened feathers.

He rarely took baths with you after that; you hoped the memory of haunted him the same way it did with you.

Over time, bathing you had become a sort of neutral ground.

Keigo enjoyed it too much for it to be used as a punishment, and you learned better.

That didn’t mean slipups didn’t happen, but in general, you were good for him then.

The bad memories still made you tremble, vivid reminders.

Keigo tugged you to the bathroom, the eon-suite in the master bedroom, ‘our’ bedroom, as he called it with the wistful look in his eye.

Part of you reviled the affection in his tone, the other part was relieved that it wasn’t malice anymore.

Stepping into the bathroom was always a bit jarring, your mind and body knowing what occurred so often in the months past. The conditioning was implicit, even if the two of you didn’t like it.

The master bathroom was massive, built for his wings. The soaker tub, jets and all, was meant to accommodate their size. He’d had a new one put in, he told you, just before he ‘brought’ you ‘home’.

Keigo stopped you in front of the sink, a usual routine. You kept your gaze trained on the ground.

“Dove, it’s alright, no need to be frightened,” He chuckled, but you knew it was more of a command than anything else. He slung his arms over your shoulders, a firm grip on your jaw forcing you to look into the reflection. “You’ve been a good girl lately, I’ll be gentle.”

You sniffled, nodding.

His grip tightened, “Words. You know better.”

“Y-yes,” You nodded, eyes darting around the mirror to avoid looking at your dual visage. “I have been good. I’ll be good.”

“Sweet girl,” Keigo sang, peppering kisses over the side of your face as you made eye contact with yourself. Your stare was vacant and cold, clinging onto what you could grasp without pain.

You hated it—

Yourself.

Your stomach rolled, but you swallowed down your disgust.

“Don’t look away, understand?” Keigo’s voice was too soft for the authority in his words.

“I won’t, I understand.”

You watched as his nimble fingers slipped under the shirt of his that you wore. He’d let you wear panties that day, soft cotton ones that hardly seemed ‘sexy’, but they drove him wild anyways. Something about normalcy always got him more feral than normal.

Considering the cold outside, he’d even been kind enough to dress you in a pair of loose, thigh high stockings. He slid them down your legs, descending as he did to leave little kisses. He pulled at your underwear, palming at the plump of your ass as they fell to the ground.

You stepped out of the stockings and panties when he tapped your ankles, leaving you completely naked in the mirror.

Forcing yourself to stare in the mirror was hard.

You didn’t look like yourself.

You hadn’t for so long.

Your own visage made your head spark with numbness, something acrid spilling over your tongue.

It must’ve shown in your face, but you didn’t register it.

“None of that, angel, you’re beautiful,” Keigo draped himself over you, wings outstretched.

You swallowed, nodding, but not replying.

“Bath time, then,” Keigo hummed, guiding you to the toilet seat as he prepared the soak.

You watched him roll up the sleeves of his soft button-down, revealing his many scars. Some were from his work, others from your nails and teeth. You felt guilty, odd as it was, seeing how they still marred his pretty, tanned skin.

You folded your hands in your lap as Keigo got to work.

He turned on the faucet, always a bit too hot, just so you could soak for longer. Shampoo, conditioner, a variety of hair and face masks, special bubble baths and bath bombs all carried in a cute basket were brought to the side of the tub as he prepared it.

If you were proper lovers, it would’ve been endearing.

He rose, lighting jar and pillar candles across the massive bathroom. It was something he did to put you both at ease, the fire acting like some sort of safety net that you both knew kept him from getting too aggressive with you, risking burning his wings.

It all felt like too much, the care he put into everything.

Your guilt swelled as you focused on your naked thighs.

Keigo talked to you as he went about preparing your pampering, knowing better than to expect any proper responses as he prepared the bath with lovely smells and pretty colors.

The last thing he did was hang a red silk robe on a hook near the door.

You really must’ve been good, getting the chance to cover yourself after a bath.

You had been trying harder lately. Remembering your rules, how and where to be and when. It made things easier. Fighting made your tired, clawing had made you weaker.

Being complicit burned something in you, low and rolling, but it was better than facing Keigo’s constant wrath.

On your more mentally together days, the ones where he was gone more and longer, you put together some of Keigo’s fucked up psychology.

He just didn’t want to be alone.

He just wanted a companion.

It was cruel— sick, that one of the most desired men in the nation had to pluck you, and all your mundanity, from your life to force you into the mold of a lover, consort and best friend like you weren’t a person.

You shook your head, trying not to stew.

Stewing made you bad.

And you had been good.

You had to be, after the ‘feather incident’.

It made things easier.

...

You’d found the feather under the couch.

Keigo left them around normally, the sensitive things picking up on your heart rate and breathing. The safety phone, an old landline, would ring if you got too anxious, the shrill tone only making it worse, but that was part of the point, wasn’t it?

All the same, this feather looked older.

The color was duller, the filaments frayed.

Keigo liked to present the feathers openly, stuck into fixtures and over counters and tabletops. Something about ‘keeping his mate safe from prospective challengers’.

(You never saw anyone other than him. There was no one to oppose Keigo in your life.)

This particular plume being hidden seemed like a mistake.

He didn’t slip up often.

Your mind spun as you debated what to do.

You poked it, cautiously.

It didn’t move, waver, or harden.

It was limp, like a real, normal feather.

The spine was hard—

Solid enough to shove into a lock, maybe.

You snatched it up, hiding it between the cushions as you raced to think through a plan.

Your previous escape attempts hardly even happened. Keigo was fast enough to catch you as you neared the fortified door, always.

He’d drag you to the bedroom to hold you down and eat your cunt until your mind was too mushy to even conceptualize ideas beyond Keigo’s tongue fucking into your dripping hole. He was mean about it, pushing you too far and keeping you there to writhe and beg for reprieve.

You hated him for it at the time.

But, you had an opportunity to fucking get out.

During the incident—

He was gone.

He was at work for the rest of the day.

You hurried.

His other present feathers would sense you, you had to work quickly.

You didn’t have shoes other than house slippers, but they’d have to make due. You shoved some granola bars in your pocket, freezing the moment you heard the ringtone of the landline echo over the penthouse.

Don’t slow, don’t stop.

How fucking foolish you were, thinking you could outrun a being that flew.

Idiotic, you’d come to chastise yourself later.

You stuffed what you could into your pockets, running to the front door and shoving the spine of the feather into the lock.

It was firm enough to be used as a pick, wasn’t it? You weren’t sure how to pick locks, but you had to try right?

You could pick the eight locks on the door before Keigo got home, right?

Foolish.

Your hands trembled as the phone rang over and over.

Your heart nearly stopped when you heard the telltale ‘thunk’ of Keigo landing on the balcony.

Frantically, you tried to undo just one lock, just for the sake of your own sanity, knowing what was to come—

The balcony door slammed open.

You went rigid, hands still working, sweaty and desperate.

Keigo was on you in a second, pulling you from your knees by your hair in one swift motion.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

His voice could’ve cut steel, the tone so angry and dead that it brought tears to your eyes as you began to struggle.

“No, no, no— you’re not doing this shit.” Keigo spat, tugging your shaking hand from the lock as the lifeless feather fell to the ground.

He pressed you against the door, bearing all of his body weight against your back as you flattened against the wood. His wings rose, eclipsing any light.

His grip on your wrist got tighter, harder. It was sure to bruise.

(Ha.)

Keigo snarled, roughly slamming his hips into your backside, “What is this shit you’re trying to pull? I know you’re an ungrateful cunt, but I didn’t know you were a complete dumbass.”

He bent your arm back, farther and higher up by the wrist.

“Did you really think you could do that? Do this to me?!” Keigo’s voice tore through you, the waver in it sounding so foreign it almost hurt. “LEAVE ME?!”

Fear shot through you as his worn hands wrapped around your palm.

In one swift motion—

Snap.

Your vision tilted as you fell back into Keigo.

Your hand wavered limply and wrongly in his grip, thoroughly broken.

Keigo clapped a hand over your mouth as you began to scream, wail at the searing pain that was shooting from your wrist.

“I’m so sorry, angel.” His unapologetic, hot breath swirled over your ear like nausea and bile, “I promise, this will be for your own good.”

...

Keigo didn’t stop that day, no matter how much you begged and shrieked.

...

The rest of the incident got blurry.

It hurt to think about it too much.

Keigo’s rage-filled voice promising that he was going to ‘snap a new bone each time you cum’ remained a haunting memory.

He followed through, of course. He was nothing if not uncomfortably honest at the worst of times.

You could recall the feeling of cold blood trickling down your thighs, nose, and even from your mouth as you sobbed and screamed for mercy on the cold hardwood. A small feather, wet with you in so many forms, licked and lapped at your clit as Keigo made good on his promise.

The feeling of his sweat dripping onto your spine as he easily crushed and snapped a new bone each time you reached ecstasy haunted you into a submission that was no longer reluctant.

You hated yourself for it.

...

Your gaze drifted from the steaming water to your hand, the brace removed. Your fingers were still mangled, they would be forever. Keigo purposefully patched them poorly— he’d told you so. Something about making it a ‘lasting lesson’.

You sniffled at the thought, flexing the fingers, feeling the old pains shoot up your arm.

“Angel love? No need to do that,” Keigo reminded you, covering your hand with his own.

Gently, he tilted your jaw so you could meet his eyes.

You imagined the two of you looked equally sad.

The following weeks after the ‘incident’, you tried so hard to be good. The pain was a new intensity, something you couldn’t forget. Keigo reminded you of it if you slipped up, squeezing your hand or wrist with a grimace curled his pretty lips.

To his merit, Keigo also felt bad about hurting you so bad. Prior to that, punishments were either harsh edging or overstimulation which in some ways were pleasurable. Spanking too, but even then, Keigo looked a bit meek after leaving such unpleasant bruises on your backside.

But permanently crippling your body in time with tearing your cunt bloody?

He sobbed into your shoulder every night for a month.

Tried as you did to be good, you also became quite numb.

It felt better than the agony.

Keigo’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his nose nudging your cheek, “What kind of bubble bath would you like?”

Wow.

You had been good.

You’d never been able to pick out your smells before.

Swallowing, you chewed at your lip, eyes drifting from the cute basket to Keigo’s expectant eyes.

He sighed, squeezing your knee, “Dear, it’s not a trick. Just your preference.”

“Can’t you pick?”

You immediately tensed, flinching away from Keigo’s soft touch with your own words.

An old echo of an older lesson:

‘Good girls don’t question things, do they?’

“I-I’m sorry,” You sputtered, eyes trained on the tile of the bathroom. You held out your bent wrist without thinking.

You tensed, waiting for the pain that would inevitably come.

Right?

Keigo stared at it, then to you, eyes going sad and glassy.

It made your heartbreak.

He carefully held your wrist, putting in back and rested in your naked lap.

“None of that, love. I’ll pick today, but you deserve to feel good. Don’t you think so?”

No.

“Yes.”

“Good girl, angel.”

Keigo gave you a gooey smile, one you returned as earnestly as you could. He quickly went back to the basket, pulling out an elegant glass bottle or two, dumping them into the tub as light, herbal scents began to waft into the air.

You relaxed a bit.

Keigo’s wings twitched, a little smile crooking on his face.

“It’s all ready, dear. Let me help you.”

Carefully, he helped you into the filled, bubbly foam settling around your shoulders as you leaned against the porcelain edge.

Though Keigo kept his wings flat to his back as he could, you could still see the feathers twitch and ruffle.

‘An instinctual response to seeing his mate so vulnerable— for his own benefit or otherwise.’

You swallowed, sinking into the sparkling water.

Keigo gave you another smile, dropping a kiss to your forehead before presenting you with two fancy-looking bath bombs.

“Now, dear, how about picking one of these? Nice and easy.”

He was right, but your head still spun.

You picked the one on the right, a dusty purple sphere with flower petals pressed into the outside.

Keigo lit up as you took it from his hand, gently placing it into the water.

You both watched it fizz and bob for a moment, mesmerized as the color spread and spit.

“See? Not too hard, huh?” Keigo chuckled to himself, laying his arms crossed on the lip of the massive tub. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes, full of love and adoration that made you feel sick.

You knew better than to reject it.

Rather, you returned his affections the best you could.

You even leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Keigo lit up, eyes shining and bright as he cupped your cheeks, returning the gesture tenfold.

You performed so well, giggling and smiling as he did.

You’d become so good at putting on a show for him, even if it exhausted you. It was so much easier to pretend that he was a dutiful lover and not a horrifying captor. With your bent fingers submerged in the balmy water, it was even easier to shove down his transgressions.

On your good days, you would even forget.

You liked those days.

You wanted today to be one of those days where everything was okay.

You weren’t quite there, but you could try your best.

As you relaxed in the bath, Keigo gently pulled one of your legs from the water. Suds and sparkles slid down your leg as his pretty gold eyes inspected your skin.

Keigo smoothed a hand over the prickling hair of your leg, frowning, “Gotta shave you nice and smooth, huh, love?”

You nodded, whether it was your preference or not didn’t matter.

Sinking a little deeper into the water, you watched him so carefully treat your skin. Exfoliating with gentle circles, and then slicking your leg with a small vial of golden oil.

The razor was what scared you the most.

You bore its marks in many ways, little cuts and scars left on your legs from your ancient twitching and struggling were the most plentiful.

There were a few brands from the thin metal, marring the bottoms of your feet.

Those were the worst to heal. Keigo had to carry you around for days, toying with you the entire time. He teased you in your helplessness, but none of his quips were wrong.

He’d made you need him.

You audibly whimpered at the memories, Keigo’s gaze flickering to you as he ran the sleek razor over your shining skin.

“Dear, nothing to be afraid of. You’re doing so well.”

You nodded, knowing better than to remind him of his own horrors.

He shaved you carefully, thoughtfully even, humming to himself as he did. Keigo was nothing if not a perfectionist, leaving you silky smooth and well-tended to. You wondered if he would treat you to a massage later with how kind he was being.

He left your cunt alone, liking the hair more wild and ‘natural’.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Keigo asked wistfully as he moved closer. His hand slipped under the water, cupping the back of your neck.

You took a little too long to respond, you supposed in retrospect.

Keigo’s face went dark, for a mere moment, as his grip tightened, dragging you under the suds.

You jolted, struggling and flailing in shock as water flooded your mouth and nose.

He pulled you up as quickly as he had pulled you down, the dark look not dulled in the slightest.

“Be good, and I won’t have to do that shit.” His words dripped cold venom, wings beginning to unfurl. “I’d hate to revisit how long it takes you to stop squirming under there, wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, hurriedly, quickly, sitting up the best you could in his grip, “N-no, I don’t want that. Please. This is very nice. I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I’ll be better.”

They were promises, honest ones.

You very much wanted to keep them.

Keigo’s look thankfully dissolved, going melancholic before erupting warmly once more. It was a facial journey you’d seen too much and too often.

“That’s my girl,” He grinned, giving you a wet kiss on the lips. You kissed back the best you could, shaking visibly and not trying to hide it.

Keigo pulled back, golden eyes too sharp and too vibrant.

As he poured shampoo into his hand, you clenched your maimed hand into a fist. The lesson worked so well, you thought, as pain rushed through you, hot like the old brands and clawing scratches.

Keigo was too sweet as he lathered your hair in the candlelight.

And you were too crushed to resist.

Far too tired.

Endlessly too weak, he’d shown you over and over.

So, you accepted his touches to cast off his ire.

Even as he pulled you from the bath, flush to his body while he wrapped you in a fluffy towel, you smiled despite the bulge pressing into your abdomen.

Even as he massaged you with earthy smelling oils, cooing about how beautiful and sacred your body was, you thanked him despite the disgust that brewed so deep in you like some hellish brine pool.

Even as he fucked you like a lover, clasping your hands to the sheets and mixing you with him as he brought you to the edge again and again, you moaned with him despite how the stretch of his cock still aggravated old wounds.

Even as he filled you up with his cum, crying out about how well you took him, what a ‘good girl’ you were, your cries crashed with his in pretty harmony despite how rotten you should’ve felt.

Because, at the end of the day, sated, cleaned and loved in his arms, the old scars didn’t ache so bad if he kissed you sweetly. If you smiled at him as he smiled at you, Keigo was kind like a companion, mate and lover should be.

As you drifted off, you were okay with the weight of his wings bearing over your fucked-out body.

It was easier this way,

Maybe even better.

#hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #yandere hawks #yandere takami keigo #yandere hawks imagines #tw dubcon #tw noncon #tw rape #tw violence #tw blood #fem reader #tw abuse #salami writes #here ya go lol

[vampcubus]

Put a Ring on it (Midoriya/Reader | nsfw)

| A/n: I told you guys I was on some shit at 4 AM this morning and this is what spawned from it. |

the title is another fucking joke because I’m the unfunniest person on the planet

✧✿ Warnings: nsfw!! Flavored lube, cock rings, vibin’, lingerie. ✿✧

✧✿ Words: 3200+ (this was s u p p o s e d to be short) ✿✧

.   .   .

You were buzzing restlessly around the house, trying to contain your excitement as you counted the minutes, eagerly awaiting your boyfriend to come home. You’d been given your first day off in months and you'd spent it out and about with some friends, shopping here and there. The rest of the day you spent cleaning up around the house, baking, and prettying yourself up for what you hoped would be an intimate night with Izuku once he got off work.

You messed with your hair again as you passed a mirror in the living room, smoothing down your comfy clothes and straightening the lacy white bra and panty set underneath. You didn't buy a whole lot of lingerie since most of it was “lost in battle”—courtesy of your cheeky boyfriend who always managed to accidentally rip each set you got in the heat of the moment. But you still liked to prance around the house in it sometimes, just letting yourself feel sexy before you'd have to sadly throw the tattered remains away the next morning.

But the lingerie wasn't what you were really excited about.

As you hummed to yourself and twirled away from the mirror to check the cookies, your eyes flickered to the shiny, red bag on the arm of the sofa. In it resides some fun new additions to your and Izuku’s little “collection” you'd picked up with your friends while passing through a rather scandalous store. It'd been a joke in conversation, but little did your friends know that you planned entirely to put them to good use.

You and Izuku didn't need toys to have a good time, but it sure made things interesting on those nights you wanted to experiment. You hoped tonight would be one of those nights.

As you set the hot tray of sugar cookies on the stove to cool and turned off the oven, the doorknob jingled and in walked an exhausted-yet-chipper looking Midoriya. Your eyes lit up like stars and you slid over to him from the kitchen, colorful socks making you slide across the wood floor effortlessly, and you throw your arms around him.

“Hi, baby!” You pressed a sweet kiss to his lips and hugged around his neck affectionately. “How was work?”

Izuku’s own arms squeeze around you and he nuzzles your cheek with his own, smiling widely under your affections.

“Hi, princess, it was good. Nothing too bad today.” He says as you release him and slink back into the kitchen.

He takes off his shoes and hero-gear in the living room, though his eyes wander to the kitchen every five seconds, wondering what you were making in there.

Izuku pops his head into the kitchen to see you sliding cookies from the tray onto a plate. He creeps as quietly as he can and once you put down the still-hot pan he wraps his arms around you from behind and pulls you against him.

“You made cookies?” He asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. What a beggar, he's lucky he has the most effective puppy dog eyes on the planet.

“Yes, I was having cravings, and they’re still hotter than Todoroki’s left ass-cheek so I wouldn't touch ‘em yet.” You snort and he makes a face.

“You say that as if you know from experience, Is there something you're not telling me?” He wiggles his eyebrows and you swat at his hands as they prod at your cheeks.

“Yeah, it's that you need a shower.” You chuckle, scrunching your nose up at the smell of sweat and a day’s worth of grind attacks it.

“I'm actually right with you on that one. Won't be long.” He says kissing your shoulder, and then slipping away to the bathroom to take a much-needed shower.

In the meantime you clean up the kitchen and yourself again, snagging the red bag from the sofa and setting it down on your nightstand in your shared room. You hopped onto the bed shimmying your comfy shorts off your legs and fling them into the laundry basket across the room, straightening your baggy All Might t-shirt. You grab your phone from the nightstand and dabble on it to pass the time, smiling at a picture Mina sent you of Kirishima’s frightened reaction upon having a monster dildo shoved in his face.

You giggle, recognizing it as the one you saw Mina buy at the adult store.

After a few minutes of scrolling, you heard that magical sound of the bathroom door opening. Your excitement skyrockets and you struggle to keep it in, hiding your grin behind your phone as Izuku walks into the bedroom, towel around his waist and another being used to dry his hair. You eye him as he gets dressed, tracing his toned form with your eyes as he slides into a pair of boxers and a random t-shirt. He flops onto the bed beside you, almost knocking your phone out of your hand.

“So, what did you do today?” He asks, and the sinister grin no longer shielded by your phone makes him narrow his eyes suspiciously.

“Went out shopping with the girls, picked up some… things.” You smiled at the confused distrustful expression on his face, setting down your phone and snuggled up to his side.

Despite his suspicion he gladly wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him and nuzzling his nose into your hair. You sling a leg over his hip to push yourself impossibly closer to him and that’s when he notices your panties. Using his intuition, he starts to put the pieces together and grins excitedly, rolling you over on your back so he can kneel between your knees hands already smoothing up your thighs to grasp the hem of your baggy shirt.

“Can I see?” Izuku asks, and you smile at the childish anticipation you see in his big green eyes as they skim over your body.

“Of course, I got it for you after all.” You giggle sitting up so he could slide the All Might t-shirt up and over your head. 

You let yourself fall back onto the covers once it’s off, and blush lightly under his eyes as they drink in the white lingerie. It’s more cute than sexy, simple and mostly see-through with floral lace patterns adorning the bra, and a more opaque but equally beautiful fabric used for the tiny panties. You gasp and stifle a laugh when his rough fingers pass over the skin of your belly, fingers dancing across every strip of exposed flesh. When you look away from his hands to see his expression you feel your heart swell with affection when you see the loving way his eyes gaze at you, wide green eyes flickering up to your face every now and then.

Finally, he smiles and nuzzles his face into your stomach trailing wet kissing across your belly making you squirm and tug playfully at his damp hair. “I like this one.”

“You always say that.” you roll your eyes, a light-hearted smile on your lips.

“But I do! This one doesn’t cover you up as much.” Izuku mutters shyly, flushed face looking up at you between your breasts. “You’re beautiful in everything you wear.”

“Well~ If you like this one so much let’s try not to rip it this time.” You tease and his freckled cheeks flush a bright red and he buries his nose between your boobs, embarrassed.

“I don’t mean to, it just… happens.” He laughs nervously and you card your fingers through his hair affectionately, smiling down at him to let him know you were only teasing.

It’s as if suddenly the mood changes and Izuku starts suckling marks between your breasts where it spills out slightly, lips tracing the edge of the bra. You hum as his tongue licks a stripe from your chest to the base of your neck where he starts sucking darker marks into the flesh. His large hand wraps loosely around the base of your neck as he bites down on the sweet spot just below your jaw, and your back arches into him slightly. His other hand smoothes over your breast and squeezes.

His lips finally meet yours and you eagerly press back against his timid lips, moving your own against his. Your legs untangle themselves from his and wrap around his hips, pressing his weight down onto you. The feeling of him twitching to life against your thigh reminds you of what you’d planned tonight and you smile against his lips, which he returns until you pull away from his lips. His eyes flicker up to yours curiously and you place two hands against his chest, pushing slightly, he rolls off of you likely thinking you weren’t letting him top tonight—which might just be true depending on how he behaved.

“This isn’t all I bought today, Izu.” You purr reaching over for the shiny red bag on the nightstand and snatching it, sitting cross-legged with the bag in your lap, waiting for him to do the same.

“I picked out some things for our toybox!” You beam devilishly, eyes gleaming as his own excited ones meet yours with a nervous smile.

“Buuuut, I don’t wanna spoil all of it yet, here catch!” You reach into the bag and pull out a bottle, tossing it over to him. He catches it and examines the colorful label of the bottle, raising a brow at you from across the bed.

“Chocolate lube?” Izuku reads aloud, and you nod exuberantly.

“Yeah, cool right? Mina suggested it so I thought we’d try it out.” You say nonchalantly, looking through the contents of the bag distractedly as he continues to stare at the bottle.

You’re too occupied to notice, but the green-haired boy is deep in thought, eyes flickering from the bottle of sweet-flavored lube and your smiling face, down to your curves still donned in white lingerie. A dark blush spreads across his face as he imagines you covered in chocolate and whip cream, him licking it from your sweet skin, the sticky syrup-like lube dripping between your breasts. His eyes darken even more at the image if you dragging the flat of your tongue up a trail of chocolate from his abs to his chin, your body sliding across his own.

His imagination definitely has him aching and straining within the confines of his boxers, making him gasp in his throat as the underside length brushes against the fabric, even the tiniest bit of friction making him twitch.

You catch his eye from across the covers and your eyes widen at the flushed and hungry look Izuku his sending your way, almost dazed, still holding the bottle of chocolate lube. You grin, what a cutie. You glance down to see him delightfully hard between his thighs and feel the twitchy beginnings of arousal start between your own. You set the bag aside for now and crawl on all fours over to him, snapping him out of whatever dirty fantasy he’d been consumed with. You push him down onto the bed and sit on top of his thighs.

You lean down and start to trail kisses down the length of his torso, starting at his pecs and making your way down, running your tongue over each raised scar, making him gasp. You drag your tongue downward, looping your fingers under the hem of his boxers and pulling them down and off. Izuku shudders violently when you trace a teasing fingertip up one side of his twitching cock, pressing down on a vein running up the length of it.

You take the bottle of lube he’d been clutching for dear life, and flick open the cap, keeping eye contact as you tip the bottle and pour a generous amount onto his member, watching him squirm and gasp as the cool liquid dribbles down the head to the base of his cock. You snap the cap shut hand the bottle back to him, which he shakily accepts as your fingers wrap around his length and start to slowly pump him from base to tip. You’re getting wetter by the minute, drinking in every sound he makes, every twitch and roll of his hips up into your hand going straight to your sex.

You lean forward and peck his lips before releasing his length and moving so you’re laying on top of him, though upside down so you can face his length as you continue to stroke him, your own hips level with Izuku’s hungry eyes. You lean forward and press the flat of your pink tongue against the head of his cock, slick with chocolate-flavored lube and his own pre. You lick happily up one side of his length and moan as the distinct taste of chocolate graces your tongue, and you eagerly take him into your mouth. Izuku moans loudly into the open air, hips bucking up against your face and hands clutching around your soft thighs as he shakes.

“Please…” He whimpers, even as your mouth swallows his length he finds himself pleading for more, hissing as your teeth lightly graze his cock in warning as his hips jerk up against your face again. He struggles to keep them still, biting his tongue, only for a high-pitched cry to escape his lips when you take all of him in at once. “Please, ah!”

Your eyes flutter open in pleasant surprise when you feel his tongue press against your core through your thin panties, shivering in pleasure as he laps at your heat through the lace. You’re not sure why he hasn’t taken it off yet, he really must like this one you think to yourself, smiling around him as he passes through your lips again, tip kissing your throat and making your eyes water. The chocolate flavor has dissipated, merging into his natural musky taste as you continue sucking him without the lube, you don’t wanna get your new toy too dirty after all.

You sigh once he finally pushes your panties to the side and starts to devour you without them blocking the way, his tongue dragging through your lips and pressing against your quivering entrance. His tongue laps over your swollen clit and you grind down against his face, shivering when he moans against your heat, hips bucking against your face again, but you permit him this time since you’re pushing yourself against his face too now. You mewl around his cock when you feel something cold drip onto your pussy with the absence of his tongue, popping off of his length to look back and see what he was up to back there surprising you like that!

Izuku grins back at you from between your legs, snapping the cap back onto the bottle of chocolate lube. That sneaky little— “Oh! Izu—mmmnnh! Ahh.”

You shake when his tongue starts lapping at you again, but more vigorously than before, slurping at the sweet-flavored lube and dipping between your folds and against your sensitive clit. You moan when his tongue wriggles inside of you, your thighs shaking in his hands. It didn’t help that he was shamelessly moaning and whimpering against your sex, creating such delicious vibrations.

Oh, so that’s how it is huh? A contest to see who could make who cum first? Well, let’s see how he handles a few new sensations shall we?

You use one hand to continue pumping him as your other dug around in the bag before pulling out a purple ring. His eyes tried to follow your hand as it retreats from the bag, but his eyes are forced closed when your hand squeezes him unexpectedly. Izuku gasps when he feels you roll something tight around his cock, sliding a band down to the base and letting the ring snap against his flesh, making him jump and whimper. He squirms around some as he tries to get used to the feeling, but then it starts to vibrate.

You feel your body clench when Izuku lets out a wail so unguarded it shakes you to the very core, his hips bucking uncontrollably into the friction of your palm and the overwhelming vibrations of the purple cock ring.

“AH, Y/N—w-what is th-tha~t? Mhn! Ah!” Izuku wheezes, his helpless moans filling the room and making you drip even more. He squeezes his eyes shut, clenching his teeth but it’s no use, his hips buck sporadically into your hand as the cock ring drives him towards his orgasm, and fast. “Fuck, it’s so… it’s so good!”

You gasp when you feel his mouth return to your heat, tongue sloppily lapping at your juices and pushing inside of you. His noises become distorted gurgles, muffled against your pussy as he frantically eats you out, still fighting to shove you over the edge before you force him over his. You wrap your lips around his cock again in defiance, swallowing him whole. You snatch the bottle of lube from his hand pressed against your ass and coat your finger in chocolate. Izuku’s eyes roll back into his head when he feels your finger prodding at his own entrance, your lubed fingertip pressing into him and pressing against that magic button inside of him straight on.

Izuku lets out a scream, hips bucking into your mouth and fingers as his orgasm tears through him, white flashing behind his eyelids and waves of white-hot ecstasy surging through his entire body at once as his cum spills into your awaiting mouth. Your own orgasm rips you apart from every nerve ending and pleasure spot inside of you as you convulse around his tongue and squirm in his arms. The ring vibrates even through his release, and your mouth milks him dry, sucking him even as you come down from your own high.

Izuku squirms and whimpers as he quickly becomes overstimulated, trying to wiggle away from your touch instead of into it this time.

“Y/N, please… no more, I can’t t-take any more.” He whines, nuzzling his face into your thigh, teary-eyed and breathing heavily.

You mercifully let him slide from your mouth and pull off the purple ring, clicking it off and flinging it somewhere for you to find and clean later. You rest your cheek against his abdomen, catching your breath on top of him. Eventually, you feel yourself being rolled off onto the mattress and tugged into Midoriya’s strong arms, his t-shirt still bunched up just under his arms, having only been pushed up to expose his chest, but neither of you really care at the moment.

“Mmh, thank you, princess.” Izuku murmurs into your hair, hands stroking up and down your sides, playing with the edge of your bra that had miraculously evaded being torn or flung off of you. “I like our new toy too.” He chuckles, wincing when the foggy image of you using it on him just moments ago makes his soft hero twitch just slightly.

“It’s not the only one I got, Izu.” You grin devilishly against his shoulder and he tenses, gulping as your fingers smear lube on his lower lip. There’s a dangerous glint in your eyes, and he knows this night is far from over.

“Can I at least have a cookie first?” Izuku asks anxiously and you only smile.

#izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya imagine #deku x reader #smut #n/sfw #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #mha x you #mha #bnha #midoriya izuku #izuku is babie #come and get ya'll juice #my hero academia

[shadow-assassin-blix]

A Picture is a Poem without Words

CHAPTER 8

Fluff. Some Smut/alludes to smut. But lots of Fluff. To make up for the trauma of the previous chapter. Dress is the 4th one found here

“Spanish” as always.

Everything tag: @mikeisthricedeceased​

Diego brought her home and she practically ran to him, when Navegante told her he was outside. She took him in once she spotted him, standing there looking out over the grounds. He was wearing bright yellow pants, a white button up shirt that appeared slightly see-through and a brown jacket over it.

She walked toward him, as he turned to look at her. As soon as she was in front of him, she slapped his arm.

The loud ow in response was satisfying.

“You weren’t going to tell me you had been shot at?” She demanded.

“I told Diego not to tell you because I didn’t want to worry you,” Pacho explained rubbing his arm slightly.

“No. You don’t…. you don’t get to decide that. If something had happened to you,” Her voice trailed off, as she felt tears begin to form in her eyes.

Pacho slowly pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She grasped the lapels of his jacket firmly in her hands and tried to take a deep breath to calm herself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” He whispered to her.

She took a moment to gather herself and turned her head up to look at him.

“No more secrets… I’m all in,” She whispered to him.

He straightened up, staring at her seriously.

“You realize what that means? Do not say that if you are not aware of the repercussions of this. I want you by my side, but only if you are fully aware what that entails,” Pacho stated clearly, looking at her closely.

“I know. I realize that. If you need me to, I will say it again in the morning. But I doubt my statement will change. I… I realized while in Bogota, that I all I could think about was getting back here. To you. Nothing else really mattered,” She murmured looking him in the eyes, calmly.

His smile was small as he spoke, “Is that so?”

She hummed in response, pressing a kiss to his chest, before standing on her toes to kiss his lips. He kissed back, softly cupping her face with both hands. The kiss lasted a few minutes and was sweet but passionate.

When she pulled away, taking in a breath as she eased back down to her feet.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?” She mentioned as a yawn moved through her.

Pacho and her walked upstairs to his room, and they quietly got ready for bed. She stole another of his shirts and silently watched him dress down. He was very meticulous in his movements. His accessories all had a particular place that they returned to. His belt and shoes in the closet, his rings and watch on the dresser, and his clothes went into laundry baskets that were separated by darks, whites, and dry clean. It was an intriguing process to watch.

Once he was down to his boxers, he turned to look at her and smiled somewhat sheepishly when he realized she had been watching him the entire time.

“Yes?” He questioned.

“Sorry. It’s kinda adorable to watch you get ready for bed. It’s almost as endearing as watching you get dressed. I am not…. That focused. I don’t…. even think… I’ve ever separated clothes…,” She admitted somewhat awkwardly.

He moved toward her, standing in front of her, with a small smirk. He leaned down and pulled her into a deep kiss, which led to her slowly falling back onto the bed, his body covering hers.

They made out for several minutes, just enjoying the feel of one another; switching from slow and soft to fast and passionate.

His hand began to unbutton the shirt she wore, pushing it off to the side to further expose her.

“I vaguely recall… promising you that I would ravish you upon your return?” Pacho groaned as he stared down at her.

“Hmm. Yes. I recall something like that being said,” Blix replied with a smile as she kissed him a few more times.

They somehow slipped under the covers, as they undressed each other. His movements were slow and purposeful, making sure she felt every thrust, kiss, and bite. It was well into the morning hours by the time they stopped, and Pacho had made sure she was mush.

They fell asleep, limbs tangled with one another.

It was late morning by the time they had begun to stir.

Pacho had roused first and took a moment to quietly admire her. It was while he was doing this that Diego, lightly knocked on the door frame, announcing his presence.

“Hey, Gilberto and Miguel are waiting for you. Plus… apparently the wives want to take Blix out to brunch? Might want to get up soon,” Diego suggested with a shake of his head, as he watched Blix, who was waking up, groan and hide into the pillows.

Pacho nodded his head, chuckling at Blix’s behavior. He kissed her back and shoulders, trying to encourage her to awaken further.

“Lovely. Time to get up,” He whispered pulling the pillow away from her.

She groaned loudly in protest, her hands trying to find the pillow again to take it back. When she couldn’t she lifted her head with a frown.

She turned toward Pacho sleepily, and muttered, “Why must I wake?”

“You apparently have plans,” He told her brushing her hair out of her face.

“Nooo. Why? Why plans?” She protested childishly grabbing the covers and hiding under them.

Both men laughed at her and Pacho got up, tugging her into following him. He led her toward the bathroom, and they took a shower together. It took her a moment to fully wake up as the hot water washed over them. They cleaned themselves up and relaxed.

When they stepped out, there was a dress waiting for her. She admired the gradient coloring from blue to orange, thinking it was very pretty. There was no bra but there was a pair of underwear waiting for her.

“Do you two…enjoy dressing me or something?” Blix asked as she looked over shoulder at Pacho.

“It is quite fun to be honest. Does it bother you?” Pacho asked poking his head out from his closet.

“No. But I do know how to choose my own outfits, I just wanted that noted. I love ya both, but I don’t need you to do this constantly,” She mentioned with a small smile.

He nodded his head in understanding and returned to getting dressed.

She got dressed in the outfit presented, slipping on the heels before stepping back into the bathroom to brush out her hair. She noted softly that there was a third toothbrush waiting for her to use. She brushed her teeth, before putting on a bit of makeup.

When she was done, she made her way toward her bedroom for one thing in particular. She had left her shark necklace on her dresser for safe keeping; didn’t want anyone to question it while she was in Bogota. She clipped it on and admired it for a moment in the mirror before heading downstairs.

As she stepped into the living room, she saw all 3 of Gilberto’s wives and Miguel’s wife, standing there waiting for her with Marta.

“Hello. What’s all this?” Blix greeted wondering why they were all there.

“We wanted to take you to brunch. Have a girl’s day essentially,” Marta explained cheerfully bouncing up to her.

Blix nodded her head and walked over to her messenger bag that she still had to unpack from her trip to Georgia. She pulled out the frame, followed by the bomber jacket that her sisters had given her.

Gilberto picked up the frame and cooed, “Aww. Look at this. You were very cute. I assume this was your horse that Pacho mentioned? Zeus?”

“Yes. Zeus was a thoroughbred. He won best in show and was a damn good racehorse. Even though he hated his rider. Would only ever let me ride him without complaint,” Blix stated proudly looking at the frame.

Mariela, Aura, and Camila, however, were distracted by the bomber jacket she had pulled out.

“Awww. This is very cute! I bet this would look adorable on any little one you have. Maybe you and Pacho should get to work on that,” Mariela, Gilberto’s first wife, noted.

“What should we get to work on?” Pacho questioned as he joined them.

“Nothing!” Blix quickly cut in setting the jacket down and hiding it away, as her cheeks turned red.

He looked at her curiously, reaching for the jacket to look at it. He raised an eyebrow at it, glancing at her and Mariela. He knew what she was probably referring to as he looked at the jacket, but said nothing as he handed it to Diego, requesting he put it someplace safe.

Blix looked at him appreciatively as the women led her out to one of the cars.

Soon enough they were at some 5-star restaurant, having brunch and mimosas.

“So, Blix. Tell us. Have you thought about having little ones with Pacho?” Camila asked in a teasing voice.

Blix cleared her throat awkwardly, before taking a long drink of her mimosa. The other wives joined in, asking her how many and what not.

It wasn’t until Stella, Miguel’s wife, cut in, “Ladies. Relax. If they want kids, they’ll have them. Their relationship is still pretty new as well. Stop making her feel uncomfortable.”

Blix nodded gratefully at her and simply stated, “We… we haven’t talked about any of that. It’s also not something… I’ve ever really thought about.”

They all nodded in understanding and they continued on talking about everything else. The ladies insisted upon taking her shopping and getting more… saucy outfits for her to wear for Pacho.

When they stepped out of the fifth store, and she had about 15 bags of clothes that they claimed she needed, she was never more grateful to see Navegante.

“Save me,” She mouthed stepping forward.

He laughed at that and said, “Ladies. I’m sorry to interrupt but I must steal Miss Lage here for now.”

They all made sad groans and waved goodbye to her. Once they were out of sight and she was alone with Navegante she begged, “Please. Help. I can’t feel my hands.”

She held out her arms, and Navegante quickly took several bags, tossing them into the trunk. She set the last of them in the trunk once the weight was eased off of her. She took a seat in the passenger side as Navegante got in on the driver’s side. He drove off and she took a small snooze as he did so.

At some point, the car came to a stop and he was gently trying to wake her up. Pacho, who was waiting, walked up to her side, opening the door.

“I got this Navegante. She’s not easy to wake,” Pacho informed him with a laugh.

He gently cooed to her, telling her to wake up. Her eyes fluttered open after a minute and sighed deeply.

She blinked trying to figure out where she was at.

“Why are we at the ranch?” She rasped, clearing her throat, as she straightened up.

She unbuckled herself stepping out, taking Pacho’s hand into hers.

He led her over to a man that was standing there.

“Blix. This is Jack Walters. He’s a-” Pacho began to introduce.

“A breeder from Georgia. Hi. Um. How are you, sir?” Blix finished as she recognized him.

“Yes. Hullo. I am doing jus’ fine lil missy. Now. I hear, you were the original owner of my most favorite horse. Zeus. Mr. Hurrera asked me if I knew of any of his offspring available and well,” Came Jack’s very southern accent, as he motioned toward the trailer that was behind him.

She stared blankly at the trailer, as the info she was given processed in her mind. A stable hand came up to the door of the trailer and led out a large black stallion, that looked just like Zeus. She was amazed as she strolled over to him.

He stood proudly as she approached him, nudging his head against her as she reached out to pet him. He neighed softly as he gently pushed her, wanting more attention.

She giggled at him and looked back toward Jack, asking, “What’s his name?”

“Well. Like his grandfather, he is very particular about who goes near ‘im. He earned the named Phobos cause he struck fear into the hearts of most of the stable hands n’ riders. Honestly, I am surprised he is allowing ya to touch him,” Jack said amazed.

“He’s about 3 years old. His father was an offspring of Zeus named Ares. We tried to stick to the Greek theme, as was requested by yer grandparents before they passed,” Jack concluded, handing her documents that certified that he was indeed a part of his line.

She took them gratefully, holding them to her chest tightly. He then handed her something else. It was a strip of leather, that had Zeus’ name on it and some photos.

“I was told that… the selling of Zeus was something that… ya disagreed upon. So, I wanted ya to know that he was well taken care of and lived a very happy life,” Jack said sympathetically.

She takes the items from him, thanking him softly.

“Now then, me and my guys gotta head on back home. It was very nice to meet ya. I am sure Phobos will be happy here with ya taking care of him,” Jack waved goodbye as he walked over to the truck, driving off with an empty trailer.

When his truck disappeared, she turned back to Pacho, who stood there with a hand in his pocket, leaning against the hood of his corvette.

“You… you got me a horse?” Blix asked amazed as she looked between him and Phobos who was rubbing his face against hers.

She laughed at him as he moved to stand between her and Pacho.

Pacho cautiously moved toward her, Phobos giving him side eye as he did so. He allowed him to pet his back but refused to move out of the way.

“Yes. It took some time to figure out where Zeus wound up, but when I did, I found out he had many children, and a few grandchildren. So. I called up Walters and asked if he had one who looked like Zeus. The rest was just a business deal,” He answered with a smirk. “He has his own stall already.”

He nodded toward the empty stall at the end and she was happy to see his name was already written on it as well. She quietly led Phobos over to it, checking that he had plenty of hay and water to eat before leading him all the way in. He calmly followed, and settled in quickly, munching softly on some hay.

“He was given a thorough brushing and was given a good walk before you showed up. He was in the trailer for like 5 minutes before you arrived. I wanted it to be a surprise,” Pacho informed her as she closed the stable door.

She looked at the door, biting her lip as she looked at the lock.

“You might… want someone to change this. If he’s anything like Zeus, he’s wicked smart. He will be able to unlatch this,” She advised him looking at the simple latch on the door.

“Good to know,” Pacho said, watching as Blix dusted off the horsehair that had managed to get on her.

She turned to him once she was done, throwing her arms around him, kissing him. He lifted her up slightly, kissing back.

They pulled apart and she turned back to Phobos, “I promise. Tomorrow I will come back, and I’ll show you the grounds.”

He neighed loudly in response and nodded his head.

The two of them moved to his car and they drove back home. They walked inside, where the brothers were waiting, discussing plans.

“Ah. Did you enjoy your surprise my dear?” Gilberto asked as he noticed them walking in.

“Very much,” She replied leaning into Pacho’s side.

“Pacho informed us… that you want to be all in? Correct? Do you know what that means my dear?” Miguel questioned.

She nodded her head firmly, “Yes.”

“Pacho, you are head of security. You decide how much she needs to know,” Gilberto declared with a grin.

Blix looked at him, and he led her upstairs to his office. He led her over to the filing cabinets.

“These… these cabinets are filled with everything you would ever need to know about the Cali Cartel. I want you to be aware of the trust you are being presented,” He disclosed pulling out a small key from within his desk.

He handed it to her, and as she took it, he backed away and allowed her to move forward.

She looked at him and then the key, “Everything… is in those 3 file cabinets? I… feel like that’s a lie.”

“It is. But I wanted to see your reaction. These cabinets are mostly about distribution and who does what. The real key is the large data book you’ll see Miguel carry around. That is our financial ace in the hole. If DEA ever got ahold of that, they would know everything,” Pacho revealed as he leaned against his desk.

“So…this was a test?” Blix asked lightly, toying with the key.

“In a way, yes. I wanted to see what your reaction would be. You did not disappoint,” Pacho stated with a smirk.

She handed the key back to him, or at least tried to. He closed her opened hand, giving her fist a small kiss.

“You currently hold the key to my heart. Keep it safe,” He flirted his hands coming to rest on her hips.

She smirked and shook her head at the cheesy line but held the key tightly in her hands.

He led her back downstairs to the brothers who were chowing down on some food that the chef made. Pacho moved over to the couch, and Blix followed, collapsing into his lap. She kicked off the heels she was wearing to curl her feet up on the couch.

While the brothers ate and talked about a soccer game going on, her and Pacho simply relaxed.

“So, what was Mariela talking about this morning when I came in?” Pacho asked his voice teasing.

“She was saying we should have kids. Which later led to further discussion that apparently, we would have cute ones given our looks,” Blix whispered in response.

“Oh. Yes. I agree. We would have cute kids. Only if you wanted them though,” He replied back kissing her cheek.

“Never really thought about it to be honest. I also lived far longer than I thought I would too,” Blix admitted quietly.

Pacho nodded in understanding.

“We can discuss that in the future if you’d like?” He offered her.

She nodded once, turning her head to kiss him on the lips in thanks.

“So… where did all my boxes wind up, by the way?” She asked realizing the only thing that was in the living room was the piano.

“The books have placed in your library. The box that was marked your room and a few others, are in your closet, waiting for you to go through. We have someone coming out tomorrow to tune the piano as well,” He listed out casually.

“My library?” She questioned, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“I’ll show you later. I was thinking… Maybe we could move some of your stuff here. You stay here often enough as it is,” He proposed his hand fiddling with hers.

She thought about it for a moment, before replying, “Sure. I’d like that. Saves me the trouble of having to buy groceries. I’ll use it as my office space. That way we won’t have to move that. Plus, it maintains my cover for work.”

He kissed her softly, his arms holding her tightly to him.

“Pacho. Do me a favor? No more soccer games. You got lucky this time, but I don’t want to see what happens when that luck runs out,” She requested as she watched the brothers argue over the game with a raised eyebrow.

He hummed quietly, “I will try not to make risky moves, but my dear. I am who I am. My life will always be in danger.”

“I know. I get that. I just…” She trailed off.

“What lovely?” He questioned.

She looked him in the eyes, and she spoke truthfully, “I love you.”

His eyes widen in slight surprise, but his smile grew, as he replied back, “I love you too.”

She kissed him again, and he kissed back with growing passion. They broke apart when they heard loud exclamations from Gilberto, laughing.

She stood up and allowed Pacho to get up as well, and he went to go see what was going on with the game. Blix stood there for a moment before making her way upstairs. She stepped into her room, dragging the boxes that were in the closet, out.

She opened them all up and started to go through them. When she pulled out the bear again, she simply set him by the laundry, planning to wash him when she could.

She pulled out several old trophies from dance competitions and such. She placed them over by the one wall in her room that had nothing on it.

When that box was emptied, she broke it down setting it by the door. She looked at the other boxes, one of which had tea set painted with cherry blossoms. As she dug further into the box, she found more antiques that her mother had collected. Most of which were antique weapons: knives, daggers, and a mace to name a few.

Which slowly made her realize… what was probably in one of the other boxes. She set the dagger she was holding on the floor, walking on her knees over to the next box. She ripped it open with a grin she couldn’t hide.

Inside, in delicately placed pieces, was a full suit of armor. She couldn’t help the laugh of pure joy that escaped her as she pulled the helmet out, examining it. It was heavier than she remembered it and was in dire need of a polishing.

Diego who had heard her laugh as he patrolled, stepped inside, curious as to what she was reacting to.

“Is that… a suit of armor?” Diego asked incredulously as he took in the scene before him.

Blix nodded excitedly, “Wanna help me set it out?”

Diego was over to her in the blink of an eye, helping her pull out each piece gently and laying them out on to her floor.

There was a larger/long box that had the stand and the sword wrapped up inside. She got the stand ready setting it in a corner of her room. Toward the bottom of the box of armor pieces her sisters had sent some polishers, brushes, and towels. The two of them began to make the pieces shiny again, talking idly.

By the time they were done, and had placed the armor on the stand, it was about dinnertime. Pacho came looking for them, and he watched the two of them quietly, leaning against the door frame. He was happy to see the two of them getting along and bonding.

He cleared his throat, drawing their attention away from their project.

“Dinner is ready you two,” Pacho tells them.

They go and wash their hands quickly, before joining Pacho at the door. The three of them walked downstairs to the dining room, Blix and Diego taking either side of Pacho.

They had dinner and the guys went outside to drink and swim. While they did that, Blix went into his office, key in hand. She opened the first cabinet with a deep breathe, pulling the drawer open revealing numerous files.

She grabbed a handful, took a seat at his desk, and began to read through them. He was correct in that most of it was distribution information but there were also details on security. Who could be trusted and who they kept a close eye on.

She read quietly, trying to take in as much info as possible, stopping at one point to find a notepad to write things down. She was so focused she didn’t notice how late it had gotten by the time she had gone through 2 drawers on the first cabinet.

In fact, it was around 3am when Gilberto walked in, rubbing his eyes, trying to figure out who was still awake at this hour.

He watched her curiously, as she made notations every so often.

“Late night reading my dear?” Gilberto asked causing her to jump slightly as she looked up.

She looked around, finding the clock, and realizing just how late it was.

“Didn’t realize the time,” She rasped slightly, before clearing her throat.

Gilberto walked in, taking the seat across from her.

“Pacho cares a great deal about you. The fact that he has allowed you such access means a lot. Not even Alvaro has seen these files. There will come a time where your loyalty may be tested. I trust… you will not break his heart,” Gilberto informed her.

“I don’t plan to. I know I am in deep. But I also know… I love him. I don’t plan to hurt him anytime soon. At least… not unless he asks me too,” Blix stated with a smirk.

Gilberto laughed at that, nodding his head.

“C’mon. To bed with you. You can finish your homework after you’ve slept,” He said in a somewhat serious tone.

She takes the files that she had been working on and placing a sticky note on it, as a reminder as to where she stopped. She locked the cabinet back up and Gilberto escorted her to her bedroom, before returning to his room.

She took off the dress she had been wearing all day, throwing on a Yankees t-shirt and some sweats. She slipped under the covers with a sigh and slept soundly.

She slept well past breakfast, which caused Pacho to worry slightly.

“Do not worry too much Pacho. She stayed up late doing homework,” Gilberto stated trying to ease his worries.

Pacho looked at him confused, “Homework?”

“I found her reading over files in your office,” Gilberto elaborated with a smirk.

Pacho shook his head and got up to go check on her, anyway. She was buried underneath her covers, sleeping soundly. He noticed that her hands had smudges of ink on both of them. He gently brushed some of her hair out of her face, stroking her cheek lightly.

Her eyes opened slowly, noticing the tickling sensation. She spies Pacho’s figure standing there, and she simply opens her covers beckoning him in.

He joined her with a smile, allowing her to wrap herself around him, tossing the blankets over their heads.

“Hi…. What time is it?” She asked in a whisper.

“It’s almost noon. You missed breakfast. Lunch should be ready in about 20 minutes though,” He reported to her.

She mouthed an ‘okay’ and buried herself into his arms further.

“Just wanna stay like this for a few minutes,” She explained with a sigh.

“I’m okay with that,” Pacho tells her, holding her close.

It was a moment of simplicity that she desperately needed. She enjoyed his company, even if it was just something as simple, hiding under her blankets. She knew that once she got up life would run at full speed, but here… life was slow and easy. So, she was going to enjoy it for a few minutes before returning to reality.

#pacho x oc #narcos #pacho herrera

[undeadsnorlax]

Alone at Midnight, Inside My Mind

@badthingshappenbingo

Ao3 Link

Bingo Card

using the prompt in a metaphorical sense, as opposed to the medical aid sense

Prompt: Crutches

Fandom: Yakuza/Ryu Ga Gotoku

Warnings: a lot of alcohol related issues, including addiction and withdrawal, some suicidal thoughts and body image issues, hurt/no comfort. set pre-Yakuza 2.

Wordcount: 5511

2pm. He could tell it was because his downstairs neighbour was home, attending to the array of plant pots she kept littered outside her door, and playing music on the radio that bled through the crack of the open window.

Daigo squinted in the afternoon light that managed to make its way through the blinds, groaning loudly.

“Fucking hell…”

Suppose now was as good a time as any to start the day. Especially when he felt his stomach rumble.

It took some effort to get to his feet, but soon he was dragging himself into the kitchen, yawning loudly. He needed something quick and tasty, now.

The fridge had nothing but convenience store sushi and days old leftover curry. The cupboards were also pretty bare, half a bag of rice and a ramen cup.

Daigo sighed heavily, setting his kettle to boil before grabbing the sushi. He stuffed a piece into his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the taste of stale rice but ate another without any complaint.

Head to the store. Get some more food, he thought, holding the ramen cup in place as he lifted up the kettle.

The water splashed on the counter a little, narrowly missing burning his fingers, making him forcefully slam the kettle back down once the cup was filled.

Daigo gripped the sides of the counter, closing his eyes as he felt a pulse of nausea rush through his body. If he forced the tension against the surface hard enough, he could stop his hands shaking for just a moment.

Eat noodles. Have a shower. Go to the store.

Opening his eyes again, he ate another piece of sushi, absolutely no taste on his tongue as he chewed it into mush, before taking his ramen into the living room.

He slumped down on the couch, turning the TV on and forced the food down him. He still felt nauseous, but he knew he wouldn’t actually vomit. He already had last night. Doubled over in a bush outside the train station and puked his guts out, despite not having much solids in him. Even now his throat felt sore from it. Classy.

He wasn’t even hungry, really. He was eating out of obligation, feeling his stomach gurgle happily at finally being filled with some kind of food.

As he ate, he noticed his cell phone on the table in front of him, discarded amongst the empty bottles and candy wrappers. It was flashing.

Daigo frowned, reaching over and flipping it open.

Three new answer machine messages.

Who the hell had tried calling him?

Message one - 9:25am

“Daigo, it’s your mother. Pick up.”

Message two - 9:43am

“Me again. Please answer your phone.”

Message three - 10:08am

“Daigo...it’s Mom-“

Daigo groaned, snapping his phone shut to end the messages. Nope! He was not dealing with this today.

He discarded the empty ramen cup and chopsticks with the rest of the trash on the table, storming towards the bathroom.

Shower on, clothes off. He used the toilet as the water heated up, catching the reflection of his upper half in the mirror as he finished.

“Hrmph.”

He ran a hand down his front, resting it on the middle of his stomach and huffed again.

His weight had been up and down the last ten years, though it had obviously settled during his stint in prison, with its shit food and no alcohol. Now that he was out, with all the freedom to indulge in every last inch of hedonism he could find though, he had developed a bit of a gut. Just a bump, but it was…noticeable, it was there. It stuck out.

No surprise really. How much did he drink last night again?

Enough I puked in a bush.

Daigo shifted on his feet, standing up a bit straighter and sucking his stomach in. It didn’t make much difference. He suddenly wondered how visible it was under his t-shirt, glad he usually wore a thick coat to hide himself in.

“Great,” he growled, stepping into the shower. Another thing to feel insecure about.

He stood there, forehead pressed against the wall as he let the water run down the Fudo Myoo on his back.

His hand started shaking again.

“Give me a break,” he said, clasping it to his chest, “A few hours, a day.”

He dried himself off, going back to his bedroom for a clean shirt and pair of jeans – both black, of course.

He also grabbed a heavy hoodie to wear to the store, a way to feel a little more comfortable in himself in a public place.

Wallet, keys, phone. Go to store. Buy supplies.

Daigo pulled his hood up as he jogged down the stairs, immediately blocked from leaving by the downstairs neighbour still gardening.

“Lovely afternoon, isn’t it Dojima-san?” Ito cried, beaming at him. She was older, always so chipper. How did she manage?

As much as he wanted to ignore her, Daigo had been raised with far too proper manners. He still remained casual, grunting a little and rubbing the back of his head.

“Yeah, suppose.”

“You came back late again last night,” she added, hands lifting a plant to move to another pot, “Ouma-san went off about it before going to work this morning.”

“Oh, did he now?”

Ouma was the guy around his age in the apartment next door. Always miserable, always bringing a new girl home every weekend that Daigo had to endure hearing fake horribly through his thin bedroom walls.

“I’ll try to be a bit quieter next time, Ito-san,” he mumbled. For her sake, not for that asshole Ouma.

“Or maybe you should stay in once in a while, hm?”

Daigo scowled, jerking his head and storming off toward the store. With any luck the old bag would have gone inside by the time he was back.

As he made his way down the street, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He went to answer but paused, clenching his fingers tight into his palm. Nope. He knew who it was, and what she wanted, and he didn’t care.

His supply run was basic. More noodles, packs of chips and cookies, some onigiri and bentos that could last a few days.

Whilst picking up a few bottles of Staminan and Tauriner, he stared blankly at the alcohol.

His hands still shook. There was such a quick fix to settle that.

He grabbed a six pack of beer and a bottle of scotch and vodka, unable to help a crooked little grin.

The cashier looked at him a little oddly as he set his basket down on the counter. And yeah, he’d admit he looked strange. Sweating and shaky from withdrawal, under his eyes dark and his brow pulled into a near permanent scowl, face otherwise obscured by the shadow of the hood.

“Get me some cigarettes too, huh?” he mumbled, taking out his wallet and avoiding eye contact.

He was a mess.

He stared at the glass case of baked goods, unable to resist the pull from his sweet tooth, and asked for two donuts as well.

He arrived back home rather pleased with his haul. He had enough in him to pack away most of it, before he stared down the booze he bought.

He could...not do this, actually. He could not drink. It was easy, in theory.

He wiped his damp brow, licked his dry lips. His head hurt, despite the slight gloom of the kitchen.

They could sit there as an ultimate temptation. He could ignore them. He could do all manner of things.

But he wanted to drink, that was the issue. That was the whole point. Drinking was the only thing he had that stayed consistent.

He grabbed the scotch and slugged back a long mouthful, feeling everything just melt away. He let out a relieved gasp, the taste strong on his tongue and warming his throat. Felt like a part of him was back. His mind became a little clearer, his mood a little more elevated. He took a shorter swig for luck, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Much better…”

He spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on the sofa, playing video games. There wasn’t much else for him to do during the day.

Evening was his time.

When seven rolled around, Daigo got ready. His jeans and t-shirt were fine already, so all he had to do was put on his usual cross necklace to complete the outfit. He spent a while staring down himself in the mirror as he applied a shaky dash of eyeliner around his lid.

Once upon a time he shied away from doing this publicly, but since leaving jail he stopped caring. Wore eyeliner and straightened his hair. Painted his nails black and picked at the polish when he was anxious. Who gave a shit? Anyone dumb enough to say anything soon regretted it.

Keys, wallet, phone. Same routine. He chose his white puffer jacket to wear instead of his hoodie, enjoying the barrier it gave him from the rest of the world.

One quick metro ride later, he was in Kamurocho, just as the town was coming alive in a burst of neon. Daigo lost himself in the crowds, thinking of which bar to hit up first.

He paused for a moment down Tenkaichi Street, staring at the sign for Serena. Place was closed, and had been for a little under a year now.

He knew what happened last year, of course. Heard about Rina through another barkeep. Not that he’d known her well, or spent much time at Serena, but something in his chest ached hearing she was gone in such circumstances.

He soon forgot about it with another glass.

With a weary huff, he decided the Champion District on the other side of town was the best place to start. The bar he chose was quiet, no other customers, and a barman who knew when to keep his mouth shut.

Perfect.

Instead of conversation, Daigo focused on the soft jazz music playing as he nursed his whiskey. He was into heavier tunes, but he needed a bit more of a buzz before going to his favourite rock bar.

He tapped his nails against the glass, tilting his head. Good idea, actually. They did cheap shots and a big array of imports.

He slammed some cash down on the counter before stumbling into the street, glad to feel the slight evening chill on his cheeks.

Down to Pink Street, and into the rock bar he enjoyed. Already feeling at home with the heavy guitar music blasting over the speakers, most of the other patrons dressed in a similar style to him. He’d missed out on a lot of stuff whilst locked away, the slight sways in fashion that happened in such a short amount of time, but he liked knowing he was still on trend within his scene, mostly.

He sat at the counter, giving a half-grin to the girl working there, and ordered himself five shots of vodka.

His earlier drinks had been a warmup, these were the first leg of the race. The second came in the form of a large scotch, some new brand they’d started selling.

Honestly, the start to a perfect night for him, until he heard a small gasp from behind him.

“Hey! Aniki!”

Daigo’s heart sank at the voice, glancing over his shoulder. Five of the guys he usually hung around with were there – or more accurately, they hung around him.

He rolled his eyes and groaned, turning in his seat and glaring them down. He should never had shown them this place.

“What do you want?” he muttered, already knowing the answer.

“We didn’t know you were out today!” Arita cried, leaning up next to him, with that sycophantic look he always had in his eyes. As if Daigo wasn’t out every night.

“Why don’t you join us aniki?” Kubo asked, which actually translated to wanna pay for all our drinks because we’re cheap scrounging bastards?

Daigo groaned again, knocking back his glass and waving the bartender over again.

“If you quit calling me aniki.”

They didn’t, of course. They gleefully accepted the drinks he bought them with more coos of thank you Dojima-aniki. Daigo rubbed the bridge of his nose and ordered himself two double scotches, slugging them back like they were water.

“I was thinkin’ we could go to Dazzle after this,” Arita said, having not left Daigo’s side. He always babbled and talked too much, like he felt he had to fill every silence with his own voice save people be left alone with their own thoughts.

“Why there?” Daigo asked, thinking of all the things he’d rather do more than go to a hostess club, including and not limited to slamming his face into a lit stovetop and drowning in a hot tub.

“I just think the girls there are really underrated, y’know? I like that they have some slightly older gals, I love a mature lady. How about you?”

Daigo shoved a shard of ice from his glass into his mouth and let it melt on his tongue. “Come on then.”

He was paying for two hours and that was that. At least he could get a bottle for himself and work through that, sitting at the edge whilst the others enjoyed the girls’ company.

Dazzle might have specialised in more mature women, but the decor was a nightmare like every other hostess club. Why’d they always insist on so many sparkles, it gave him a headache.

“Um...are you enjoying yourself?”

Daigo lowered his gaze to look at the girl. ‘Mature’ really meant ‘late twenties’, and she was running on the younger side of that.

“What do you think?” he said coldly, swirling his drink in its glass.

She seemed a little dazed at this, glancing back at her fellow hostesses, but kept going.

“M-my name is Nashi. Yours?”

“Daigo Dojima.”

He clicked his tongue, emptied his glass and went to refill it, his shoulders slouching slightly. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so short, you’re only doing your job.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I’ve had far worse responses.”

Daigo just gritted his teeth. Another reason he hated hostess clubs was he knew how other men treated these girls, saw it himself the times his father brought him along as a teen.

The least he could do was give this lady a nice conversation.

“Well, I’ll try to be a bit better than them,” he said, gesturing with his head towards the others, so loud and obnoxious.

Nashi smiled a little. “They’re not so bad. Your friends are just a bit...out there.”

He scoffed. “They’re not my friends. I don’t really...do friendship anymore.”

“Oh? How come?”

Shit. Of course, when you say something like that, people have questions. Daigo licked his lips in thought, considering how he should phrase this.

“You...don’t recognise my name, do you?”

Nashi blushed a little, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, well, you do have a bit of notoriety around town, Dojima-san. I know girls in other clubs, and they always talk about you.”

Daigo did a slight double take at this. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah. You’re a rather…” She gestured at his coat and skinny jeans. “A striking figure, you know. A lot of girls like the edgy emo bad boy look. It’s popular right now.”

“Hm, figures.” A lot of men are also fans…

Daigo sat up a little straighter, gazing Nashi down. “Do you?”

“H-huh?”

“Find me attractive?”

It was a joke, said with a dry smirk, but she flustered, clearly uneasy. Daigo grimaced, sliding up a little closer and putting a hand to her knee.

“Hey, hey. I’m kidding.” He made his smirk a soft smile, broke down the facade for just a moment to put her at ease. “Don’t worry about it.”

Nashi’s eyes went wide, but nodded, brushing down the edges of her dress.

“A-anyway, I...I’ve heard you...were involved with the Tojo Clan. Is that why you don’t ‘do’ friends?”

“Mm. Essentially.”

Daigo gave up on the glass, swigging back from the bottle which got him a funny look from one of the other patrons across the way.

“My only friend murdered my father,” he said, so matter of fact. He hesitated a moment, letting out a short huff. “Well. He went to jail for the crime, at least. He was actually covering for someone else. Either way, I was left without his guidance for ten years, thinking he had betrayed me like that.”

He paused a second, swilling whiskey around his mouth, before continuing.

“I came back to town a few months ago and...he hasn’t bothered trying to find me. Which shows how little he cares.”

“Oh. That sounds...awful, Dojima-san.”

“It sure does, doesn’t it?”

Daigo shrugged, tilting the empty bottle back so he could savour just a few more drops as best he could. “That’s just how my life is now.”

He grumbled a little as he set the bottle down, belching into his cupped hand before draping himself back against the seat.

“Sometimes you gotta deal with the hand you're given,” he added, scratching lazily at his middle, “And unfortunately, I’ve had a poor deck from the start.”

He shut his eyes before letting out a laugh, forced and hollow. “Sorry. I’m not the best at keeping things light.”

How many hostesses had he paid to listen to him whine? Then he thought how they were probably all used to it, which made it even worse.

“Well, given your circumstances…”

Nashi glanced back at her co-workers, the barely hidden looks of disdain towards the rest of the crew and their boorish behaviour.

“I’d much rather talk to you though,” she said, reaching over to grab another one of the bottles along the table, gesturing toward his glass, “You’re nice.”

Daigo swallowed, nodding in approval as she filled it to the brim. His head pounded, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the music or the cravings.

“If you say so.”

The glass was empty in a flash, and filled just as quick.

“You’re good at this,” he purred.

The bottle was empty by the time the waiter came by. Daigo had just enough mental capacity to dig through his pockets and pay, giving Nashi a shaky smile and a pat on the knee.

“Thank you for tonight. You’re great.”

His friends, on the other hand, all started to whine as the waiter began to urge them into finishing their drinks.

“Aw, c’mon aniki, let’s hang around a bit longer!”

“If you want that, pay yourself, ya cheap fucks.”

Daigo stood up, a bit too quickly as he felt the room spin. He stumbled to the side slightly, wincing as he contained a belch that very much tasted of vomit. Nope! No puking tonight. Keep it all inside.

“I’m outta here,” he mumbled, resting a hand on any available solid surface to keep himself steady as he left.

He blanked out the cries of the others as he did. He’d wasted enough time with them tonight, and he was craving something else.

“Burger,” he mumbled, squinting as he glanced up and down the street, “Pffft...that way.”

This was always the worst part of the night. Trying to sober up enough so he could keep going, or at the very least get home in one piece. Stumbling through the streets and trying not to crack his skull open.

It wasn’t just food he craved though. He felt...itchy. That was the only way to really explain it. The desire to go wild, start a scuffle. Really earn that reputation he supposedly had.

To hell with staying in one piece.

But first, Smile Burger.

The fact that the poor worker even understood what he said through his slurred words was impressive and soon he was curled up against the window, feet pulled up on the chair beside him as he made his way through a burger that tasted like the finest wagyu steak right now.

All the while, he kept his eye out.

Yeah, it felt shitty to target people for a fight like this, but he made sure it was a fair fight. Usually a few guys, who looked like they could take a hit as well as throw one, maybe even have a chance if they weren’t facing someone running on adrenaline and too much booze.

He cocked his head as he focused on a table nearby. Four men, mid-twenties, definitely young yakuza from some family. He couldn’t see any lapel pin from where he was sat, but they were perfect.

Childishly, he picked up one of his fries and threw it in their direction. It hit the back of one guy’s head, and he looked around puzzled. Daigo just threw another, chuckling as it hit him again. A bit too obvious, as he was spotted this time.

“What the hell’s wrong with you dude?” one of the four cried.

“I dunno,” Daigo said, stuffing a bunch of fries in his mouth before flinging another their way, “Target practise.”

This one hit a guy in a striking red sports jacket right between the eyes, and Daigo could barely contain the full-on cackle he let out at the expression he pulled. It was almost too easy.

He grinned when one came over and jabbed him in the chest.

“Outside. Now.”

“My pleasure.”

He followed them into a nearby side street, hands in his pockets and head held high. He liked an audience sometimes, but a private fight was fine enough.

The biggest one of them threw the first punch. He was expecting it, crossing his arms over in front of his face to block it, before kicking out at the guy’s ankles.

The whole fight was messy. The little gang clearly had never been in a proper fight, had no form. They kept punching poorly, wincing with any that managed to hit as they stung their knuckles.

Not that Daigo was any better. He was still far too drunk, but that was half the fun. Stumbling about and getting in a rough hit that frightened these kids who’d never experienced this before. He just wanted the thrill, the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. Anything to feel something.

Daigo landed a punch on that guy in the sports jacket, right in the middle of his face. It sent him flat on his ass, skidding down the street slightly.

“Come on!” he groaned, “Grab him, idiots! We outnumber him!”

A moment of pause. Daigo tried to catch his breath, but ol’ sports jacket was right. He was outnumbered.

Two of them grabbed his coat and pushed him back against the wall, holding him there. The third punched at his gut, over and over. Daigo gritted his teeth, tensed his stomach for every punch.

He knew he could get out of this, easily. The guys holding him were hardly doing much, weren’t even gripping his actual arms, just the sleeves of his jacket. It wouldn’t take much to duck and slip down, then send them crying home to their mommies.

“Come on!” he hissed, baring his teeth.

But he wanted them to hit him.

“That all you got?”

He wanted them to hurt him.

Sports jacket guy had gotten back on his feet now, face already starting to bruise. His fist met the middle of Daigo’s face hard, harder than they’d been hitting before. It stung, a lot, which is exactly what he wanted.

Not that it solved anything.

It never did.

“Oi!” They all froze, turning toward the entrance of the street. Daigo, semi-dazed, managed to look too, and felt his stomach drop.

Kashiwagi's expression, initially a scowl, changed the moment he saw him, shaking his head and blinking a little. “Daigo?”

He sighed heavily, storming over and waving his hand at the little gang. “Shoo. Don’t let me catch you boys doing shit like this again, you hear?” “Y-yes Patriarch Kashiwagi.”

They scurried off further down the street, leaving Daigo to stand up straighter, rubbing his nose. He groaned a little as he saw the streaks of rusty red on the back of his hand, sniffling heavily. “Great.”

“Daigo…”

Kashiwagi sighed again, rubbing at his temple. “What are you doing?” “I’m just...I’m just out.” Daigo sniffed again, scrunching his nose. “Just finished dinner.”

“You know what I mean…”

Kashiwagi looked around, then grabbed Daigo by the shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s talk in the office.”

Daigo went to argue, but it only took one stern glare, the kind the older man had given him his whole life, for him to clench his jaw and follow.

Kashiwagi led the way toward the Millennium Tower, hand on Daigo’s shoulder the whole way. It felt so patronising, like that time he accidentally broke a window at the Dojima Family offices when he was ten, and Kashiwagi had done the exact same gesture, marching him to his mother.

“Nice upgrade,” he still said, gazing out the wide window of Kashiwagi’s office once they arrived, “From that little place on Tenkaichi.”

“Well, we make do. I’m second in command now.” Kashiwagi set down the plastic convenience store bag he’d been carrying on his desk, letting out a small, bemused exhale of air. “It’s not all bad. Now come on. Why were you fighting?”

Daigo clicked his tongue and shrugged, staring at the blinking lights below them.

“Daigo…” “I just was, okay?”

He gave a dismissive shrug, walking across the floor toward a cabinet, throwing the doors open. Kashiwagi watched him with tired eyes, slumping down in his chair. “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight.”

“How did you know that’s what I was looking for?”

“Your breath reeks of it, kid. Your whole body does.” He took out a bento and can of coffee from the plastic bag, raising a brow. “And I know what you’re like, especially lately. How’s being a free man by the way? Haven’t seen you since you were released.”

“It sucks ass.”

Daigo slammed the cabinet door shut, opening another and grinning as he saw half a bottle of whiskey there, as well as some crystal glasses. He heard Kashiwagi tut loudly as he slammed both down on top of the cabinet.

“What did you expect?” he scoffed, pouring a very large measure, “Mom told me the news the moment I got out. What Nishikiyama did. That it wasn’t Kiryu. He hasn’t even come to see me, to apologise for it.”

He knocked the glass back, the sensation warm and familiar down his throat. “Hardly feel free. Just not in jail anymore.”

“What happened to the boy I knew?” Kashiwagi asked, walking over and placing a hand on Daigo’s shoulder once more. This time it was gentle, kind, attempting to be comforting. Not Kashiwagi-san, one of his father’s men, but Uncle Osamu, his mother’s best friend.

Daigo scrunched his nose up, taking another slug of whiskey. “You say that like I’ve ever been cheery.”

“Well, okay, you’ve always been a serious young man, but…”

He just shook his head, moving his hand away. He grabbed the whiskey bottle in the process, making Daigo let out a pathetic little whine.

“I’m not going to enable you any more than I have,” he said firmly, before adding, “I mean it though. You don’t need to throw your life away like this.”

Daigo didn’t reply, because he didn’t like the real answer. There wasn’t much of a life to throw away. He was doing everyone a favour with this.

“You bring me up here just to lecture me old man?” he growled, narrowing his eyes.

Still looking for someone to fight. Kashiwagi would wipe the floor with him, he knew that, but he didn’t care. He also knew he wouldn’t get that kind of satisfaction.

Didn’t mean Kashiwagi wasn’t frustrated with his attitude. He closed his eyes, clenching his fists and let out a deep exhale from his nose. “I saw your mother today. She’s been trying to call you all morning.”

“I know.” The empty glass was set down heavily, with a grunt. Daigo dug around for his phone, holding it out so Kashiwagi could see the countless missed calls and texts from her on the home screen. “I know what today is.”

“...and is that why you’re-”

“You know I’m like this anyway.” He stared at the texts, all similar in tone - Daigo, please call me. Daigo, it’s important. Are you okay? He got them most days from his mother. She was trying so hard. He didn’t want her to. He would rather she forget about him. She deserved that much.

Kashiwagi wasn’t looking at him, staring up at the ceiling as he thought of what to say next.

“I understand that...none of us could have predicted the extent of what your father was like.”

Daigo did a double take, noticing Kashiwagi immediately cringe. At least he knew what he said was stupid.

“Sorry, that was-”

“Yeah. It was.” Daigo looked up, head cocked to his shoulder. “Anyone could have guessed, really. We just pretended otherwise, because somehow he seemed to be the only thing keeping the Tojo Clan from completely falling apart.”

He was up in Kashiwagi’s face now, feeling his chest clench tight. He was working himself up over nothing, over that bastard. He hated it, but thinking of what his father did to get himself killed, the kind of man he was, it made his skin crawl.

“He deserves to spend every birthday after what he did having the most miserable time in hell,” he said with a hiss, noticing his voice wobbling, “I know it. You know it. But Mom refuses to let go-”

The slap felt cathartic, for both of them. Daigo shut his eyes and nodded as his cheek stung. He deserved that. He was trying to provoke that kind of reaction and got exactly that.

“I take back what I said. That boy you were is still there. An insolent brat,” Kashiwagi said, walking back to his desk, “Daigo, one day, you’re going to have to grow up. You can’t keep doing this until you die.”

He threw a semi-sympathetic look over his shoulder, but Daigo mostly felt it was piteous. That’s what he was. A pitiful, useless mess.

“Go home, Daigo. Call your mother. And for everyone’s sake, don’t have anything else to drink tonight.”

Daigo sucked in through his teeth and nodded again as he walked toward the door.

“...good night, Kashiwagi-san.”

No response. Yup. I deserve this.

He made his way home in a daze, everything working in automatic. Kashiwagi’s words kept echoing in his head, over and over.

You can’t keep doing this until you die.

Because that’s what he was trying to do, wasn’t it? Die. Suicide by hedonism. He was born already holding the worst hand life could deal, and he was never going to get anything better. After his father was killed, the one tiny scrap of potential good he could have in his life was gone, even if that prospect was a life of crime.

So why not? Why should he grow up when there was nothing to grow up for?

The moment he was inside his apartment, he slid down the door, staring blankly ahead. He’d needed that talking to, he needed a few really, from people who were currently pretending like he didn’t exist. That’s what he really needed. For Kiryu to talk to him, apologise for ruining his life, try and talk some sense into him. He always knew what to do.

But it was like he didn’t exist. Kiryu didn’t care. Kashiwagi tried to care, but knew he was a lost cause. Who did care?

Daigo opened up his phone again, staring at the missed calls and sighed. That’s who cared. Mom.

He should talk to her. He knew he should. He was an awful son who loved his mother very much, which is why he knew she deserved better. She was trying despite knowing she’d made mistakes, but he just couldn’t let that go.

He hovered on her number, ready to press the button to call...but instead he tossed his phone to land on the couch, walked to the kitchen and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the vodka bottle still on the counter.

He licked his lips, swallowed heavily...but let go, pushing it away.

“You win this time old man,” he grumbled, picking up an energy drink and the donuts he’d bought earlier in the day instead. Kashiwagi could never be allowed to know that though.

He knew this self-control wouldn’t last long. Come morning, he’d be shaking again, a hangover banging in his skull, and he’d be dragging himself towards that bottle like it was the source of life.

The same thing every day.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

He couldn’t have it any other way.

#dojima daigo #ryu ga gotoku #trope: crutches #badthingshappenbingo #undeadbthb #highly recommend reading the end notes on ao3 for the buckwild place the inspiration for this came from

[justahopelessssromantic]

I know u just posted another daddy angel request but I got another if u don’t mind , I was thinking of how daddy angel will react on how his little girl who’s in head start comes home saying she’s got a little boyfriend lol 😂 😂😂😂

A/N: Here it finally is! Thank you so much for the request girl and giving me more inspiration for our precious Daddy Angel! Like I said I got a little carried away, (something about Daddy Angel just does that to me lol) so it’s kind of long. I hope you all enjoy and thanks so much for reading! 💕

*gif not mine*

Warnings: Fluff and Smut 😏 18+ Only

Sitting on the floor of your living room you were folding the gobs of laundry you had while listening to your favorite true crime podcast through your ear buds. The host was just getting to the description of the grisly murders that rocked London in 1888. You listened intently, relishing in every detail as you folded the sparkly pink leggings of your four year old daughter, Penelope.

He was now onto the first suspect and you grabbed Angel's Romero Bros work shirt slipping it on a hanger and laying it flat across the sofa behind you smoothing any wrinkles out with your hands.

You then dug out the various change that littered the bottom of the basket. Angel always forgot to clean his pockets out before throwing a load of laundry in and it drove you insane. You now had a jar full of coins that you were calling your "vacation" fund. At this rate you'd be going on vacation any day now and you just might be going on your own.

Standing yourself up from your seated position that you had been in too long, with a bit of a struggle, you stretched out your back before rubbing your hand over your swollen belly. Smiling you felt the little guy kick at your hand from the inside.

He was either going to be an excellent soccer player or dancer. Or maybe even both, you weren't quite sure yet.

Setting the stacks of folded laundry into your empty basic you hoisted the thing up and was about to head to your bedroom when your front door opened. Slipping the bud out of your ear you smiled at your husband and daughter who just got back from school, "Hey baby. How was your day?" You asked your little mini me.

There was no response as Angel hung her backpack on the hook in front of the door. "Hey, P! You know the rules." Angel's voice stopped her as she attempted to storm past. She may be angry with him but he wasn't gonna let her get away with disrespecting the rules of the house. Whipping around she shot her Pops a glare before huffing and slipping her shoes off at the door. She then proceeded to make her way towards you, stomping down the hall and into her bedroom.

You looked to your husband who was clearly also not in the best of moods, "What the hell happened? What's up with your daughter?" You asked him, you were clearly missing something.

Slipping his cut off he hung it beside her backpack and slipped his own shoes off setting them nicely by the door.

He stepped up to you giving you a kiss on the cheek before taking the basket out of your arms to lighten your load. "Did you know our four year old daughter, our baby, apparently has a fucking boyfriend?"

"What?" You tried your best to keep in the snicker, you really did but you just couldn't keep a straight face.

That was what all this was about?

"Why the hell are you laughing woman? It ain't funny," He scoffed, licking his lips like he does so often, “You know what his name is? Anthony, our daughter is dating a boy named Tony. Fucking Tony!”

“Oh my god Angel he’s just a child.” Was he really so threatened about a four year old boy named Anthony?, “What are you going to do? Go intimidate a little preschooler?”

“He’s not a child,” He rebutted, “He’s a little punk who is gonna steal my daughter’s innocent years!”

“Wow, Daddy is so dramatic,” You remarked, looking down at your bump to the child in your belly. You looked back up at him with a smile on your face. “You know she’s just like you. That’s why you butt heads all the damn time.”

He knew that, that was the problem. As the days went by he could see himself more and more in her. There’s nothing like having a child just like you to make you feel bad for your parents.

He placed his large hand over your bump, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the cotton of your shirt, “You better be like your Mama little man. The last thing we need is for her to be stuck with three of us.”

You placed your hand over his, running your finger across the gold wedding band adorning his ring finger. It had been seven glorious years that you had been husband and wife.

“You know that’s not necessarily a bad thing,” you looked just a little longer at the physical representation of your promise to each other, to love the other in the good and the bad, always. You returned your gaze back to those beautiful eyes that had you melting since the first moment they locked on with yours, “to be like you. Sure you are stubborn and selfish and hot headed and..”

“Hey, I thought you said it wasn’t all bad,” he interrupted you, setting the basket of laundry on the table beside you so he could have both his hands free. He stepped closer to you running his hands down the sides of your bump before resting them comfortably on your hips.

“And you have a terrible habit of interrupting me.” You teased grinning up at him as you continued.

“Right,” he chuckled, relaxing in your presence, “I’m sorry. Continue, mi amor.”

“But you’re also so loving. You have the biggest heart, Angel.” You placed your hands on his shoulders straightening out the collar of his shirt, “And you are always doing your best to do the right thing for your club, your family, even when it could put you at odds with those closest to you.”

You smiled up at him and it was one of the most beautiful sights in the world.

He leaned his head down, gravitating closer to you. You smelled of coconuts, shea butter, and vanilla. You smelled of home.

Stretching up to close what little gap was left you kissed his cheek, “And your smart,” then his jaw, “And loyal,” then the corner of his mouth, “And so incredibly sexy.” You purred.

He chuckled biting his lip, “I think you're losing your point here, mi dulce, but I don’t disagree.”

“And you are loved.” You finished with a passionate kiss. You pecked his lips once more before laying a smack to his ass, “Now go shower. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“God I love you,” he said, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it before cupping your face with the other and kissing you once more. He ran his thumb across your bottom lip soaking in your features as he pulled away and headed into the direction of the bathroom backwards all while grinning at you, his stunning beauty. His hand was still entwined with yours until he got too far away and he was forced to momentarily part with you.

You two had been together for a decade now but still acted like lovesick puppy dogs.

Picking the basket back up you made your way down the hall and to your daughter’s room. Tapping the doorway lightly to alert her to your presence you stepped into the room to find her sitting on her floor playing with her favorite motorcycle Angel had brought home for her after a run.

Placing the basket onto the bed you crouched down next to her, “Hey baby, do you wanna tell me about it?”

She rolled the bike back and forth across the floor keeping her focus on the toy, “Why won’t Daddy let me have a boyfriend?” She pouted, “It’s no fair.”

“Look at Mama for a minute baby,” You said gently running your hand over her dark curls. She did as you asked looking up to you with her big brown eyes. She was so much like Angel it was scary sometimes, “Daddy just has trouble sharing sometimes. He doesn’t want to have to share you,” you ran your thumb across her cheek lovingly, eliciting a little smile from her like you always could , “But he’s gonna work on it. Everyone has things they can do better at.”

“Like I’m gonna have to learn to share once my baby brother comes?” She asked, glancing to your stomach.

“Exactly,” you smiled down at her, “You are so smart, just like Daddy.” You kissed her cheek straightening back up. “You can play for a little longer but then it’s dinner time.”

She nodded returning her attention back to her motorcycle making little revving and rumbling noises as she rolled the toy around the ground. You put her clothes away into her little purple dresser before picking your basket up once more. You stole one more glance at your beautiful girl before exiting her room and heading down the hall to Angel and your’s shared bedroom.

Setting the basket on the foot of the bed you looked up just as Angel stepped out of the connected bathroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist. Smirking he watched you stare at him, "You like the view, mi dulce?"

"I'd like it better without the towel," you flirted biting your lip as your gaze lowered.

He shook his head sauntering over to you, "God pregnancy makes you fucking horny."

"I've never heard any complaints before,” You teased batting your lashes up at him. He cupped your face, kissing you slow and sweet.

“As much as I’d love to fuck you right now,” you murmured in his ear placing a kiss to his jaw. He groaned loving that foul mouth of yours, “You need to get dressed because dinner will be ready soon.”

With that you left him to it while you went to round up your daughter for dinner. She picked up her toys like you had asked before washing up for dinner and making her way to the kitchen with you. Helping her situated herself on her chair you placed a napkin over her lap.

Angel walked in shortly behind you, now much less distracting as he was fully dressed. He pulled you into him kissing you on the cheek as the oven timer dinged signaling your dinner was ready.

He pulled the lasagna out of the oven and set it atop the stove. Grabbing a spatula he cut the dish into pieces scooping out a small portion and cutting it up into little pieces to cool on Penelope’s favorite Toy Story plate. Next he scooped out a piece for you and then him, followed by some garlic bread to complete the meal with a scoop of sauerkraut spread across your toast just how you liked it. Carefully bringing them over to the table all at once, rather impressively, he set the meals in front of his two girls.

“Thank you baby.” You smiled at him. Licking your lips you turned your attention to your plate, mouth watering from the delicious aroma wafting from the food.

You gave your daughter a look as she pouted over her food clearly still holding a grudge against her father, “What do we say P?”

“Thank you Papi,” She grumbled rather begrudgingly before poking at her food with her little fork.

Angel took his place beside you cracking open his beer as he looked at his little world in front of him. He thought maybe she’d drop in by now and be all in his lap like usual but no she was a stubborn little thing.

“How about you tell us all about Anthony,” You suggested. Angel almost lost his shit as he looked at you wide eyed. She was already pissed at him, he didn’t want to add on to the fury.

She looked at you very suspiciously, not sure whose side it was you were on, her’s or her daddy’s. She took a bite of her lasagna as she stared Angel down, almost daring him to speak first.

You were starting to agree with Angel now and really hoped your second would be more like you. To say the atmosphere was tense would be an understatement.

“Daddy promises he will listen and be very understanding, right Daddy?” You looked to Angel with a smile plastered across your beautiful lips.

How could he say no to you? And you did put him on the spot, “Right,” he gave in. He would try his hardest, if only for you. He leaned back in his chair meeting her gaze and waited to hear all about this Tony kid.

You nodded giving her the room. Taking a sip from her sparkly cup filled with milk she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before beginning. “His name is Anthony,” she told you proudly with a smile on her face, ignoring her father’s gaze now.

“Yeah?” Angel spoke up and you prayed whatever came out of his mouth next would not set her off any more, “And what does this Anthony do? Does he work? How is he gonna provide for my baby?” He asked her, trying to throw her off.

“He’s Spider-Man, duh,” She said as if that should be common knowledge to him.

He tried to keep his composure but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face, “Spider-Man, huh? You can’t date Spider-Man baby. It’s too dangerous.” He tried to reason with the four year old across from him.

“But he’s a hero Daddy,” She furrowed her eyebrows at him before her features soften, “Just like you.”

His heart melted as he looked at his princesa. She knew exactly how to soften him up and he was a sucker for that.

“He’d protect me,” She continued on, “Just like you always do.” She added on to the sweetening of her father.

“I’ll make you a deal, Penelope,” He said, looking into those soft brown eyes surrounded by those dark lashes of hers as she batted her eyelashes at him. Now that she got from you. “I want to meet this Anthony the Spider-Man and then if he proves himself worthy of mi princesa I will consider it.”

She thought this proposition over for a moment in her head. It wasn’t exactly a win for her but she had softened him and she could soften him up some more, “Okay.” She agreed with a smug little smile on her face, “Can I be excused now?” She asked.

She had eaten a decent amount of food during the exchange so you gave her the go ahead. Picking her plate up she set it by the sink and walked off to go play in the living room.

“You know she just totally played you, right?” You grinned looking over at your husband. You expected there to be much more of a fight but damn was that girl good.

“I know,” He said flashing you a smirk, “But she’s not the only one playing this game, mi amor.”

You rolled your eyes mentally preparing yourself for the craziness that could await you in this next week.

—————————————————————————————————————

The next day your husband and daughter got home from school in a much better mood than the day before, thankfully. They were full of smiles as Angel hung her backpack up and they slipped their shoes off at the door like always.

“How’d it go?” You asked looking between the two. They exchanged a look and your daughter giggled. It appeared they were thick as thieves once again. “Did you meet Anthony?” You asked Angel.

“Nope.” He grinned at you, “Why don’t you tell Mama what you told me P?” He suggested proudly.

She shrugged nonchalantly, giving you a hug, “I broke up with Anthony. He tried to kiss me,” she scrunched her little face up in disgust, “It was icky.”

Angel chuckled at that, he’d never get tired of hearing her say that. Hopefully this phase lasted a while, “Yeah, kissing boys is very icky,” He agreed, “Right Mama?”

You shook your head letting out a laugh. At least the fighting was over, for now, “Yep, kissing boys is real icky.”

“And there’s only one hero for me,” She beamed at Angel before scurrying off to play in her room, full of energy.

“What about you Mama?” Angel asked, swaggering up to you, “Is there only one hero for you?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” You teased, “Superman is plenty enough for me.”

He smacked you on the ass playfully planting a kiss on your cheek before walking off to go clean up from work before dinner.

That night you tucked your little girl into bed and Angel read her two bedtime stories like always even though she was only supposed to get one, he couldn’t say no to her little pleas, before heading off to bed yourselves.

Crawling into bed together you turned your lamp off and waited for Angel to do the same. Instead he just stared at you with that look in his eyes and smirk upon his face, “I think you’re forgetting something, mi amor.”

“Yeah? And what might that be?”

“My goodnight kiss.” He grinned at you and puckered his lips.

“Oh is that so? But don’t you remember kissing boys is icky,” you teased giving him a grin back before turning around and snuggling into the bed facing away from him.

“Yeah well baby I’m not a boy, I’m a man.” You felt the bed shift as he settled closer to you.

“Really?” You teased some more, the smile still plastered to your face. You held your breath as you felt his hot breath against the skin of your neck, his large rough hand sliding across your stomach.

“I was man enough to knock you up twice now, wasn’t I?” he purred into your ear giving you chills.

He wasn't wrong.

Gently moving your hair from your neck he began kissing and sucking your sweet flesh, his hand wandering down your nightgown and taking hold of your breast flicking your erect nipple with his thumb.

Your breath hitched as you enjoyed the touch only he could provide you. He grinned into his kisses relishing in how your body responded to him and his yours, his stiff member pressing firmly against your ass.

Being the tease you were you wiggled your ass against him causing a low groan to rumble from within his chest. His hand wandered down hooking into the sides of your underwear before slipping them slowly down your legs.

Running his hand back up the side of your leg slowly he stopped at your thigh moving his hand in the other direction to tease between your legs. He kissed your jaw, then the side of your mouth, then your lips as you turned your head to meet his face. Running his hand back down your thigh he grabbed behind your knee pulling your leg up opening you further to him.

Yanking his boxer briefs down whilst never breaking your makeout session he grabbed his hard cock and teased the tip at your entrance collecting your sweet juices. You gasped at the contact and Angel took the opportunity to snake his tongue into your mouth before pushing slowly inside you.

You took him well, you always did and he stayed still a moment just relishing in the moment of your bodies coming together as one. Once you started to wiggle your hips, desperate for some form of friction he gave in to your needs, and his, and began thrusting at a slow sensual pace, his hand finding its place to rest on your bump.

He kept his pace slow and teasing. You felt so good wrapped around him, it took everything in him not to rush, but he wanted to prolong the both of your pleasure as long as he could.

It didn’t take long until you were pushing back against him meeting his thrusts and he knew you had had enough. Littering sloppy kisses across your shoulder he picked up the pace hitting all the right places. His hand traveled to your clit running circles around your most sensitive spot.

“Fuck,” you moaned out as your walls clenched around him.

“You close?” He murmured into your ear, “You wanna come?”

You nodded your head finding it hard to muster out any words as he continued his assault on your clitoris while simultaneously thrusting into you with such calculated movements of his hips.

“Say it,” he growled into your ear, ceasing his hand movements. He nibbled at your earlobe as he waited for the words he loved so much.

“Fuck,” you gasped out, desperate for him to return his touch, “Yes Daddy,” you gave him what he wanted, “Please.”

He smirked working his thumb once more as he pushed into you deeper, his thrusts getting sloppier as he began to twitch inside you, you both almost to your breaking point. He quickened the movements of his thumb and it wasn’t long before you came undone around him. Just a few more thrusts and he was right there with you filling you up as he moaned out face buried in your neck.

You lay there together, spent as he held your back close to his sweaty chest, still buried deep inside you. Kissing the back of your shoulder he mumbled into your skin, “I fucking love you, (Y/N).”

Everything Tag List: @jad3djay @fairygardenss @carlaangel86 @briannab1234 @starrynite7114 @agirllovespasta @howaboutash @gemini0410 @naytraydr @knowles-morgan

#angel reyes #angel reyes imagine #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #daddy angel #requests

[winglessnymph]

If there was something to be learned from interacting with the Dark Sides it would be that they are horrible… when sick.

TW: sick fic, disorientation, panic, (applies to Virgil), self loathing, anger, (applies to Deceit), vomiting, crying, intrusive thoughts, (applies to Remus), hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, (applies to all three)

-

Patton tended to hide his illness when he felt under the weather. Logan on the occasion he noticed himself not feeling well would quickly take whatever course of action would help him recover the fastest. Roman would isolate until Patton or Logan found him. Then it was dramatic whining until he recovered.

The Light Sides could get "sick." So it only stood to reason that the Dark Sides could face the same fate.

-

Virgil was up first. After he was finally accepted by Thomas he spent more and more time in the commons and around the Light Sides. So of course after Virgil hid for 2 days straight (ha) Patton took it upon himself to see what was going on. There was no response when Patton knocked on Virgil's door. Being concerned, he warned of his intention to enter and opened the door.

There was Virgil… under his bed, panting. Patton shouted "Kiddo!" and dove quickly to his knees. Too quickly in fact, or maybe it has been Patton's volume, as Virgil's only reaction was to tense and sink himself out.

Dismayed, Patton called for Logan and Roman. He explained that Virgil was sick and needed help. The other two quickly agreed and split up.

From there on it was the worst kind of game they had ever played. It was like hide and seek. Except every time they found Virgil something would eventually spook him into hiding again. Logan voiced his theory. Virgil was sick and likely relying on instinct. He was stuck in Flight mode until he recovered. Being forced to flee likely put more strain on him.

Virgil did recover and come back to himself. Only to be greatly confused as to why Roman was sleeping half on the coffee table. Glancing around Virgil noticed Logan curled up in an armchair with a thermometer dangling from his fingertips. Patton snuck into the living area and froze when Virgil made eye contact, scared he would bolt again.

"Uh, hi?" Virgil questioned. Patton's squeak woke the other two. Roman jolted with a curse looking around frantically. Logan slurred out "where is he?"

"Are you… awake?" Patton asked Virgil. At Virgil's confusion Patton rushed to explain. The sickness, Logan assuming Virgil to be stuck in Flight mode, having to hunt Virgil down everytime he got spooked to care for him.

Virgil teared up. He apologized for making them go through so much trouble, for crying, and for getting sick in the first place. The others joined the cuddle pile Patton initiated on the couch. They all three reassured Virgil everything was okay and it was worth taking care of him no matter the trouble.

-

The next Dark Side to show up had been Deceit. It had taken a long time for the others to be comfortable around him but eventually he was accepted by the Light Sides (and accepted again by Virgil). He still hasn't bothered with providing a name, content to go by Deceit, or any of the less horrid nicknames the others came up with.

Much like the Virgil incident, Deceit was found ill when he didn't turn up for a day or two. Logan, this time, had decided to seek him out. Logan and Deceit had plans the night before for another mock trial. (Logan was still bitter about being left out of the court case scenario. However, once Deceit admitted to leaving Logan out due to seeing him as an equal and threat Logan was more appeased. It had been Deceit's idea to have another trial to let Logan participate this round.)

Logan knocked on the self-preserving trait's door and heard something shift. Logan called but didn't receive an answer. Confused and concerned Logan began trying to convince Deceit to let him in. After a good ten minutes Logan heard movement again and the door clicked open.

Logan barely held in a gasp as he looked at Deceit. Hat missing, hair rumpled, and clothing askew, this was the messiest Deceit had been seen by any Side. Deceit glared at Logan and snuffled. Logan asked about his well being. Which was promptly ignored as Deceit slithered back into the blanket nest he had made. Logan took in the tissues scattered around a full waste basket and came to the correct conclusion. Deceit was ill.

It took nearly 20 mins but Logan eventually won the argument over staying and taking care of Deceit. It would have been easy with how much Deceit's skills suffered while sick. But what he lacked in skill at the moment he made up for in stubbornness. Something rarely shown. Often Deceit would lay out his point in detailed fashion and leave Thomas to come to his own conclusion. (Never stopped him from being bitter after the fact when he lost but that was kept to himself.)

Logan did inform the others and gather supplies needed to watch over Deceit. The two talked, or argued really, while Logan set to work. Deceit admitted to being angry. Not over Logan's help but over the fact that he himself had gotten sick in the first place. Logan learned that Deceit LOATHED being unwell in any capacity. But even under the loathing there was still something hidden.

It was whispered one might while Logan was dozing off. How Deceit was meant to be an essential part of self preservation. How Deceit wasn't allowed to be sick. How there was too much to do and he didn't deserve the time, care, and effort Logan was putting in anyway.

Logan's glare quickly ended the idea that Deceit's words went unheard, as originally intended. Logan straightened up and proceeded to demolish every point laid out and back up every point in favor of Deceit deserving as much care as the others. If Deceit insisted that he never cried after that… well he always was called a liar.

-

With The Duke introduced and firmly a part of the fam-ILY the others sort of expected him to get sick and need help at some point. The original trio had learned something after caring for the two Dark Sides previously. Unfortunately there was a misconception. The others assumed Remus would retreat if sick and even attempt to bat away any help like Virgil and Deceit. They didn't expect the wailing.

Roman stumbled on the stairs and quickly rushed back up them. Breaking open his brother's door he looked around, sword drawn. Roman couldn't imagine what all Remus kept on his side of the dreamscape. What if one of Remus' beloved horrors had caught him?

Just as Roman noticed a light on from a side room he winced. The reaching sounded just awful and nearly made Roman upheave himself. By the time Roman put away his sword and went to the bathroom doorway Remus has begun to cry anew. It seemed Remus was fine with and even delighted by the idea of vomiting, until he was forced to be sick against his will.

Roman helped his brother clean up and dragged him back into the bedroom. Before he could ponder if the bed was safe enough to place Remus someone cleared their throat from the bedroom doorway. Patton had to raise his voice a little to be heard clearly. Roman nodded and carried Remus gently down to the commons.

After going to lower his brother to the couch Roman found himself stuck. Remus would not budge, begging to not be let go of.

Remus it seemed was dramatic enough while sick to outshine the whole house. The others all took turns watching over Remus. If one of the others was away too long the whimpering would raise until it was unbearable.

Deceit figured it out first. Without the others in constant contact Remus quickly felt abandoned. And with that his intrusive thoughts would dive in. Making it hell on earth for the chaotic side. After that discovery whoever was cuddling with Remus would ask another side to bring what was needed or to hold Remus' hand if they needed to leave for a moment.

It was horrible to have the Dark Sides fall ill. But not horrible to help them. After each first incident it became easier to assist whoever had gotten sick. The Dark Sides even helped whenever one of Light Sides fell ill. They were a fam-ILY that took care of one another.

#sick fic #sanders sides #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #trigger warnings at the beginning

[mayve-hems]

Old Me | Ashton Irwin x OC

Type: IMAGINE | ONE SHOT | MULTI CHAPTER

Summary: It all started with a lie. One that tore the two Ashtons apart from each other the day before graduation. Five years later, Ashton and Kalypso are showing up to Calum Hood’s wedding, prepared only a little for what is about to come. Ashton is determined to prove to his ex girlfriend that he never has, and never will, stop loving her. 

Word Count: 14.7k

Note: I love my friend Anna because she helped me so much with this and she will forever have my heart. 

Warnings: selling/use of weed, drinking, lots and lots of cussing

Normal

Flashback

-

Kalypso ducks her head underneath a bathtub of water. Her chocolate brown hair billows around her like she’s a sea creature or a mermaid goddess watching over Mount Olympus. If she were a few years younger, she would’ve stained the rim of the bathtub with a hair dye concoction straight from a box.

Resurfacing, she scrubs paint from her fingers, arms, legs, and face. Stuffed deep under her nail beds, she reaches for Paris Pink paint. She hisses, separating her skin and nail, but admires how nice they look. Plain, long-stained black, and mostly healthy. Making a mental note to look up nail salons for a much needed acrylic manicure, she hears a pawing at the bathroom door.

Even though she’s single and lives alone, she knows there’s no privacy in her small apartment. Magik, a black cat she found in a dumpster, is clingier than Kalypso’s little sister, Stella. She has three seconds to stand and pull a towel around her body before she sees her hallway through a newly opened door and a quiet mew enters the bathroom. Magik is too smart for her own good.

“I’m glad it’s only you,” Kalypso sighs and steps onto a blue bath mat right out of the clawfoot tub. The linoleum is cold underneath her toes from her air conditioning, so right out of the bathtub, she never stands directly on the bathroom floor without something there. Kalypso forgets her slippers once again so she maneuvers a leap from the bathmat, through the semi-opened door, and onto her pretty white carpet. “Thought I’d have to deal with Stella,” She smiles once she’s on the carpet.

“Heard that!” Stella, Kalypso’s younger sister, says over her shoulder in the kitchen. Her hands busy themselves with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The bathroom is at the end of the hallway, with the kitchen having a sharp pivot to the left when you enter the living room, meaning that if she talks loud enough, Stella can hear everything Kalypso may say about her. “I was giving you time not to smell.”

“I hate you,” Kalypso sighs and turns left into her bedroom. A dream bedroom-- one with 70s rock and 80s pop -scratched- record glued to her ceiling, and blankets covering her bed. Hung LED lights and paint pretending to melt from the walls where the ceiling attaches and the aroma of vanilla incense. “Do you ever go home?”

She’s filled milk crates with vinyls that are used, right next to her bed, underneath the table holding the record player. To the left of her bed is an enormous window showing her a view of the city laid out in color and sunlight. Along her floor, she’s left clothes and other things out instead of cleaning them up.

Pulling her closet door open, two empty canvases tumble from beside her dresser. She picks them up, shoves them back into their designated place, and drops her towel to the floor. Kalypso isn’t worried about the windows on the top floor or her sister inside of her apartment.

Her fingers brush the sleeves of colorful shirts, over her dresser, and pays no attention to the art supplies she’s included inside. Above her hanging clothes are packing supplies and canvases she still needs to send out.

Kalypso owns her own ‘company’ called AKM_arts. AKM, after her initials, and arts because that’s always been her passion. Drawing, coloring, painting, crafting something into the way she’s feeling and letting the world see her so raw. She began as an instagram artist, Ashton Kalypso Montgomery, but quickly started selling custom pieces.

“You’re so pale,” Stella says, watching Kalypso pull a pair of jean shorts up her legs. Her plan for the day was to purchase more circle canvases when the shops finally opened. She needed to start more tie-dye nameplates. A man requested one for his daughter, Auzilynn, which Kalypso couldn’t seem to pronounce. “How are you Australian?”

Kalypso loves showing off her tattoos to the world; her mother's initials tattooed on the inside of her right shisn, a koi fish down her thigh, a single bee painfully placed behind her knee, a feather falling from hip to thigh, and several things in between. Her body is a canvas for anybody that deems themselves good enough.

“You’re two years younger than me, why do we look like twins?” Kalypso pulls a black shirt over her head that leaves the word ANGEL tattooed on her clavicle. “Is this cute?”

“You always looks tupid,” Stella replies, rolling her eyes. “But you’re still pale.”

“We’ve established this,”

“I got your mail for you,” Stella takes a bite from her sandwich, tearing the crust from the rest of the bread. Kalypso and Stella look a lot alike, besides their hair color. Kalypso always opted for a darker, more vibrant color like her natural dark brown. Stella, blonde, preferred pastels when they were in school.

Kalypso snatches the letter from her younger sister’s hand. Addressed for Ashton Kalypso Montgomery, apartment 607B. Stamped with a dog photo, and sealed with red wax. “It’s from Calum Hood.”

“Yeah, I got the same one,” Stella smiles at her sister. Kalypso and Calum’s friend group were close at one point, so Stella hung around as much as she could. The nuisance in the same grade as Calum and Luke that joined everything they did with Kalypso. “He’s getting married.”

“Married?”

“Yeah, his fiance is beautiful,”

Kalypso rips open the packaging. The location, the date and time, and a picture of Calum and his future-wife standing together in front of a brick wall. Stella’s right, Calum’s fiance is beautiful; curly brown hair, a hand placed over Calum’s chest, and a perfect smile. “Cool,” Kalypso tosses the invitation and the envelope in the trash. “Hope he has a good wedding.”

“You’re not going?”

“I love Calum and all, but I don’t want to see Ashton,”

“It’s been five years, Kal, get over it,” Stella brushes her blonde locks from her long face. “Please? I want to talk to Luke.”

“It’s been five years, Stel, get over it,” Kalypso bends down to look into her paint drawers unit for a certain color. Auzilynn’s name plate requires a rainbow painted into a tie-dye pattern. Kalypso isn’t sure if she has the correct shade of blue. “What would I do with my cat?” Opening the drawer dedicated the blue paints, she has more than enough.

“Alexander could watch Magik,” Stella replies, thinking about the guy just down the hall she’s trying to date. They’re in the flirting stage so far, and she hopes they’ll progress further eventually. “And I’m not trying to hook up with Hemmings. I’m trying to get my laptop back from him. It’s been way too long.”

She’s a year younger than her sister. She graduated with Luke Hemmings and Calum Hood. At the end of the day, she was a part of their friend group, including her sister Kalypso, Kalypso’s childhood best friend Michael Clifford, and Kalypso’s boyfriend, Ashton Irwin. WhenKalypso graduated from school, she was ready to take off and leave Sydney, never look back at the place that reminded her of her entire high school career. Stella was permitted to graduate halfway through her last year of school and they moved into the same apartment.

“He probably doesn’t have it anymore. It’s been five years,”

“Ashton probably doesn’t have feelings for you anymore, Ashton Kalypso. It’s been five years,”

Since they’re sisters, it didn’t take long for Stella to finally reach her limit and move into the apartment next door. They enter each other's homes whenever they want.

Kalypso rolls her eyes. “Do you ever stop?”

“Are you going to go?”

“Hell no,” Kalypso lets out a loud chuckle. “You’re hilarious,”

-

Returning from the store, Magik greets Kalypso at the door. Dropping four reusable bags on the floor, she greets her loud cat with pets and kisses. Canvases, paint, stickers, glitter, paintbrushes, all equaling way too much money from Kalypso’s wallet covers the entrance of her apartment. After greeting the cat, she gets started on cleaning her room and putting things away.

She throws the bags on her bed to straighten out the messy place. Clothes are folded or thrown into a laundry basket, blankets are folded or placed on her bed, canvases that turned out bad are put in a repaint pile where she turns them black and makes galaxies, and the craft massacre in her closet becomes properly organized. She puts canvases into an organizer with different sizes for different canvases and anything involving paint bottles or paint brushes directly is thrown into the messy paint drawers. She’s got way too many bottles of the same shade of blue that she needs for the rainbow tie-dye, but adds another into the drawer.

Quickly, though, she has to get to painting. Swirls of orange and red chase each other around an oval canvas. Swirling inward then out, mirroring each other. She goes in order of the rainbow, leaving one strip of purple on the narrow inside of the swirl. Tie-dye on a canvas. After it dries, she free hands the same. The person that ordered it chose basic cursive writing, which is easy with the help of muscle memory. Auzilynn, weird, but interesting.

She prints a label for the canvas and gets the packaging supplies ready so she can slip it inside and put it into the pile of canvases that need to be shipped off. She has eighteen wrapped canvases to go out of Australia, but only a few are staying inside. One, Auzilynn’s, isn’t going farther than the apartment complex a few blocks away. If Kalypso makes it in time, she can get Auzilynn’s out by 11 AM and have it delivered within a day.

Kalypso has over 100 orders to do, and only a few days until they need to be shipped off. She can’t take a few days off for a stupid wedding, it’d be worthless.

Although, she could use the break.

No! That’s stupider than anything else she’s thought of. At the same time, she could show off her glow-up and amazing life. Painting all day and night, scheduling her working hours, deciding what she gets to do. She has things to get done. Her paintbrushes need to be cleaned, canvases need to be organized and shipped, and her apartment is a disaster.

Taking a break from painting, Kalypso pours wet cat food into Magik’s bowl next to the refrigerator . The cat digs into her md-morning breakfast as if she’d never eaten before.

Across from the refrigerator, Kalypso pours a sink of hot water from the tap. Her paintbrushes are already in the sink, waiting to be cleaned. Browns, pinks, and blues explode from between the bristles. Galaxies dropped onto the stainless steel bottom like a picture.

She was thinking long and hard about going or staying. The one thing blowing her mind was Ashton Irwin and how he would have progressed. Was he still tall and handsome? Curly hair and eyes the color dewy grass? Married? Single? Still toying with the bad boy scene? She’d changed after moving away- rebellious tones and sassy remarks blossomed into doing whatever the hell she wanted to, but without so much hatred toward everyone. Weekly-dyed hair turned into natural brown on pale skin. Nobody could stay the same, so would Ashton still love her?

They broke up the day before graduating, Kalypso initiating the conversation, Ashton entirely speechless when she said the words. Kalypso had heard that he slept with a girl named Sage Miller, who was in their grade, the night before while at a party, from Luke. A cut-and-dry breakup where Kalypso blocked her ex boyfriend from her life. At graduation, Kalypso smiled, but every time she looked away from the cameras shoved in her face, broken pieces cut themselves along her throat.

She didn’t want to hear Ashton’s excuse when she broke up with him, she didn’t want to hear what he might have tried to come up with or how it wasn’t his fault. Kalypso, a girl that still knows her worth, realized that sometimes you don't need a guy to be happy.

Kalypso dials her sister for a video call. Continuous rinsing and scrubbing from her paintbrushes, laying them on the counter that wrapped from the sink to the fridge. She heard the dial tone end and her little sister picked up the call. Stella could only see a white ceiling.

“What do you want, Kal?”

“How long do you think Alex will watch Magik for?”

Ashton Irwin could still be single.

-

For Ashton Irwin, he's known about Calum's wedding since he proposed to the woman, but still put off packing until the day before he left. One suitcase full of men's clothes for a week's stay, and one smaller bag of his four-year-old daughter's clothes.

"She's not going to go," Luke remarks, looking at his fingernails. Painted orange with a highlighter by Ashton's daughter. He has a soft spot for his favorite four-year-old, but she likes destroying Luke's nails. "She hasn't even RSVPed yet and weddings in a week."

"You don't know that," Ashton replies. "She could just be Stella's plus-one."

"She's Kalypso, she's not the type to dwell on the past and wait around for peoples weddings,"

"You're kidding me," Ashton throws a dress at Luke. "She dragged me to thirty weddings in four years." Their flight leaves in only a few hours, and Ashton's slowly falling more and more behind on what he needs to get done. He needs to dress himself and his daughter, get a carry on bag ready for her, and manage to get to the airport. Luke's attention was diverted to grabby hands and a soft mewing, his name toward him. "She could've changed and now she's more sentimental or some shit. I did."

"Yeah, and how exactly are you going to explain Auzzie?" Luke lifts her from the floor, sitting her on his lap. They both stare at Ashton from the toddler bed. "Sorry that Sage Miller told you that I cheated on you because she kissed me at a party and you broke up with me. It didn't actually happen and I was so heartbroken I made myself believe her and hey, this kid came out of it. She died two years ago but it's okay because she was a drug addict and had nothing to do with Auzilynn. You want to get married?"

"Yeah, actually," Ashton moves across his room to get into Auzzie's dresser, searching for more than the few clothes he can find. Her toys are thrown everywhere and her clothes are torn from their drawers. He didn't have time to clean it up. "Is that so bad?" He starts pulling shirts and pants sets from the piles of clean clothes and a dress that she wore almost every day.

"What do you think, Auzzie?" Luke asks, shifting to pull her higher up. She looks just like Ashton, with a small mixture of her mother. Curly blonde hair in space buns, eyes that sparkle like glass, a crooked smile that could get her out of trouble. "Is daddy being ridiculous?"

Auzilynn nods her head. Her fingers toy with the part of her white tank top that's rolling up. "I want Doritos."

"You want Doritos?" Ashton asks. He decides he has enough outfits on his arm and in the somewhat packed back that he should start folding everything together. As long as it fits, he'll be happy.

"And fruit snacks!"

"Auzilynn Marie, you're not going to ruin your dinner," Ashton demands. "We're going to be at grandma's house in a few hours, can you wait until then?"

Auzilynn shakes her head then cups her fingers around Luke's ear. "Are we still growing fruit snacks?" She says in a hot-breathed whisper.

"Are we still growing fruit snacks?" Luke asks Ashton, wondering what he should answer. "Are they still growing?"

"Yes," Ashton groans. He ran out of fruit snacks three days beforehand and every place seemed to be out of the special type that Auzilynn liked. He told her they had to grow, and he was so happy children were susceptible. "They're still growing."

"Have you ever been to Sydney Auzzie?" Luke asks. His fingers search under her arms and around her neck for ticklish spots that cause her to giggle the most. Her body tenses up playfully. "Are you going to play with Uncle Mike tonight?"

"Yeah!" Auzilynn replies. Michael's still back in Sydney but visited often. He's probably Auzilynn's favorite.

"Back to Kal," Luke says. "How do you think it's such a good idea to talk to her."

"Because I know for sure that Stella's going." All he's wanted for the past five years is to tell Kalypso what happened that night, not some messed up version Sage had created. He plans to use Calum's wedding as a way to talk to Kalypso. A two-for-one deal; see Calum again and get back on good terms with his high school girlfriend. "If I can talk to Stella, she'll at least let Kalypso know that we conversed."

"How do you know? She could just lie and say you didn't show up,"

"They're sisters. They tell each other everything,"

Ashton has only been told stories about what happened to Kalypso after they graduated. She stopped hanging out with Calum, Luke, and occasionally messaged Michael. Stella became her best friend and her sister in one, and they moved several hours away.

Ashton had once been her drug and suffocated her when they broke up. The butterflies he had created turned into caterpillars that filled her lungs with goo and half-eaten flowers. Rumors told Ashton that she nursed herself with whiskey and sleepless nights from graduation on. He would see her driving around with Stella in the middle of the night, hoodie and messy bun-- when she looked the best.

"Stella probably won't listen to you either,"

Ashton and Sage pulled up to a stoplight in the middle of the night, returning from a party, almost a year after Ashton and Kalypso broke up. Kalypso pulled up right next to them, right before the light turned green, and rolled down her window. She screamed, "fuck you!" at the top of her lungs with a stern middle finger pointing straight at Ashton. She sped off when the light turned green. Something that irked Ashtons somewhat-of-a-girlfriend at the time, but to Ashton, that was a Kalypso thing to do.

"Can't you be positive?" Ashton folds another one of Auzilynn's dresses and sets it lightly in the suitcase. He's prepared for anything to happen, including several changes of clothes. "Can you fold the rest of those while I-" A ding runs through the room. Ashton's phone at full volume vibrates Luke's leg. He grabs it quickly to check who it is. Pleasantly surprised, he swipes the notification away. "That was fast."

"What was fast?"

"For Auzzie's birthday, I ordered this painting thing with her name on it," He clicks on the pattern he chose and flips his phone for Luke to see. "They shipped it already and I ordered it last night."

"Watch it be shitty," Luke laughs.

"I paid $50 for that thing," Ashton shakes his head. He prays that he didn't just waste his money entirely and that hopefully, the creator spelled his daughters' name right. "It better be good."

-

“I guess I can’t say the joke anymore,” Kalypso sasses, looking the large white house up and down. A porch that wraps all the way to the back door, into an over spacious backyard. She tilts her head to one side to comb all of her hair over her right shoulder. “Can’t really fuck your wife, Cal,” Calum glances up from his cement table and leans back in an outdoors chair. He looks like an older version of himself, rather than a completely different person. “Sorry, Mike told me to come up to the front.”

“Kalypso?” Calum asks. Brown hair thicker than life itself, large eyes that sparkle underneath any light, and a hoop through her right nostril. Somehow, she isn’t as intimidating as her high school self had been, but at the same time, she is worse.

Kalypso crosses her arms. In Calum’s high school eyes, there’s no way that the woman standing on his porch is his friend Kalypso. As an adult, he questions how she could’ve changed too much but remained the same. “Are we calling me Ashton again?”

“Huh?” Calum wonders. He is just amazed that she was coming after not returning her invite. She must be Stella’s plus one.

“You said Kalypso as if you are trying to get me to start going by Ashtonn again,”

“No!” Calum stammers. Kalypso used to be an avid member of not wanting to go to formal events. She skipped her own prom to go on a boat with Ashton, still in a prom dress. She barely showed up for her own graduation, and she’s voluntarily going to Calum’s wedding? She must really care about him. “I’m just surprised you showed up. Two days early.”

No hair dye, no lip piercing, no eyebrow slits, and she isn’t wearing a full face of makeup anymore. Gauged ears, a white shirt tied in a knot above the band of a black skater skirt, and tons of freckles.

“Was I really that bad of a friend?” Kalypso wearily asks. “If I was, then I’m sorry.”

“No,” Calum shakes his head and finally decides to stand up. He’s several inches taller than Kalypso still. “We’re going to Melbourne to see my sister next month and I was going to have a little celebration there. I didn’t expect you to come to the wedding.”

“Should I go home then?”

“No!” Calum sighs. “I’m just thinking of you from high school. You didn’t go to shit so I just thought you wouldn’t sit through a wedding.”

“I’ve changed,”

“Yes! I see that,” Calum smiles and gestures to her clothes. She wasn’t the biggest fan of skirts when they were teenagers. She’s gone through a tedious development of her character. “You look nice.”

“It’s Stella. If I had my way, I’d be wearing thigh highs,”

“There’s my Kaly!” Calum holds his arms out for an overly-zealous hug. Kalypso has never been near his height, nor all of his friends, so bear hugs are always expected. His heart beats in his chest like a rhythmic song. “What’s new? I haven’t heard from you in forever,”

"I gave birth to seven children and I'm married to John Mulaney," She looks around the porch, wanting to see what Calum's like now. There's a garden off to the side of the house, vegetables on the right side, fruit on the left.

Calum pulls a chair out for Kalypso to sit down in. He moves the documents on his table to the side so he can focus on her. "Really, huh?" They both chuckle and smile brightly. "Our group finished the kids bet."

"The kids bet?"

"Remember when we had a bet on who would have children first? We all tried to bet on you and Ashton,"

"Did I win? Who was my bid?"

"Michael's won," Calum answers. Michael guessed Ashton in general, Calum guessed Kalypso, Luke guessed Michael, and Ashton guessed Luke. "You bet me."

"Then who has the kid? Luke or Ashton?"

"Not important!" Luke says, clapping a hand on Kalypso's shoulder. She turns in the seat, excitedly. She almost tackles him to the cement out of excitement. How did she think that she couldn't go to the wedding? "Children are sticky and that's gross." She's gone five years without hanging out with her group every day of the week. Kalypso feels like a teenager again.

"Liar," Calum says. "You love Auzzie."

Kalypso laughs harder. Who names their kid Auzzie? "You and Michael babysat my brothers for years, and you enjoyed it."

"Kal, I don't need your opinion," Luke shakes his head. Michael and Luke were suckers for the Montgomery boys. A pair of twins seven years younger than Kalypso. "So, seven kids, huh?"

"Yeah," Kalypso starts to count off her fingers "Pride, Envy, Wrath, Gluttony, Sloth, Lust, Greed, and Wrath,"

"Some people I could get along with," Luke smiles. He too is surprised by Kalypso's personality shirt. She was a classic skater girl with weed bags and a scale in her car. How did she turn into a perfect art freak? "But for real, husband? Wife? Any babies from them?"

"I've got a house, a cat, and my little sister,"

"Really?" Luke gasps.

"Just not that social anymore," She was once a sociable person, which is concerning to the boys. Ashton has had that big of an impact on her. "So, um, Michael or you got wives, Lu?"

"We're Auzzie's favorite single uncles," Luke smiles. "I mean if you're trying to give me your phone number I wouldn't-"

"-I'll give you my phone number in a friendly way. I'm not getting into your pants, Hems," Kalypso smiles and grabs his phone out of his hand. She unlocks it with the same password he's used since he was twelve. "So do I get to meet Auzzie? I feel left out."

"She's inside with Mike and Ash. If you want to concur that battles," Calum answers. He points to the screen door next to the table. Just inside, Kalypso can see two figures standing tall, shadowed onto a nice hardwood floor.

Kalypso is the leader of the broken-up group, even after five years of going solo. So badass, so intimidating that people didn't want to mess with her. With the five-year glow-up on her shoulders, she's a soft intimidating person. She still falls for hugs and attention, wrapping her arms around Luke's middle. He's grown at least three inches in five years.

"How's your mom? I was going to see if I could visit before I go back to Melbourne," Luke asks, letting go. Kalypso's torn from smiling and feeling depressed. She lives in Melbourne too, the irony of it all.

"She died," Kalypso folds both of her ears over to show the boys white ribbons. Pretty tattoos, but hidden. "Lung cancer got her a couple of years ago." Kalypso and Luke finally sit down in chairs.

"Oh," Luke's face falls. He wasn't that close to Kalypso's family like Ashton or Michael were, but he was still welcomed at any point in time. How did he not know that Mackenzie Montgomery died? "I'm sorry . . . I had no idea."

"It was just family at the funeral. Jasper almost didn't go," Kalypso was close to her mom her entire life. Kalypso, Stella, Jasper, and James' father left and never came back after the twins were born. Growing up from a seven-year-old, Kalypso made her mom into one of her best friends. They did almost everything together.

"Your brother Jasper?"

"That's the one,"

When Ashton and Kalypso broke up, Mackenzie and Michael were Kalypso's main support. A lot of times Stella or Luke were involved, and occasionally a couple of jokes from Calum, but Mackenzie never let her daughter feel alone. A beautiful woman, taken too soon.

"Why?"

"Too hard for him to face,"

Mackenzie called Kalypso and Stella every night after they moved to Melbourne. They'd talk about everything underneath the sun, except for the disease that was ruining Mackenzie's body. She never told anybody about that.

Kalypso clears her throat. "So did you guys ever make a band?"

Luke's face lights up. "We didn't start a band, but I have an apprenticeship at a recording studio."

"Really!?" Kalypso smiles. Luke's second choice in life was to become a music producer, even if he couldn't make it into a band. "I'm so happy for you." She claps her hand into Luke's for an achievement. "What about Michael. Any big breaks?"

"He streams video games,"

"Hey, at least he gets to do something he likes,"

"Are you talking trash on me!?" Michael screams, finally walking out of the house. "Holy shit it's Kalypso." Kalypso pivots in her chair to stare down the blond man. He looks just like he did in high school. "Ashton and I had a bet that you wouldn't come because he's here."

Kalypso's head drops. "Of course. Was I really just that bad of a friend?" Inside, she feels terrible, like she messed up as a person that not even her friends expected her to show up to Calum's wedding. She didn't think she was that bad at socializing."

"No, it's just . . . he's here so we thought you wouldn't want to come."

"I'm an adult, Michael, I can get over things."

"I'm not trying to be rude, 'Lypso, I just- you still go by Kalypso, right?" Michael asks. He hasn't heard either Calum nor Luke say Kalypso, because he wasn't listening. Ashton or Kalypso, he knows her by both names. Kalypso nods her head. "Good. I don't know if I can go back to calling you Ashton."

"Somebody say my name?" A thick Australian accent asks, following behind Michael. Kalypso wants to curl up into a ball, scared of Ashton. Ashton, the boy she was and still is in love with. Ashton, the man that cheated on her two days before they graduated. In his arms, a little girl with flowy brown hair smiles. Kalypso's heart fractures. "Oh,"

Luke reaches his arms out to grab Auzilynn from Ashton. Auzilynn practically jumps from Ashton's arms, but he's too distracted staring at Kalypso. She can't bring herself to look at him. Calum and Luke share uncomfortable looks. The tension can't be cut with a knife.

"Auzzie, can you say 'hi' to Kalypso?" Luke asks, setting her on his lap. Auzilynn is a mini-me to Ashton beside her darker, grown out hair, and softer versions of his features. Kalypso has no idea who her mom may be.

Auzilynn looks toward Kalypso. A wide, toothy smile forces a small smile from Kalypso. She has to admit that the two-year-old is pretty cute. "Hi, K'lyso!"

"Kalypso, babe," Ashton corrects. "Kuh-lip-so."

"K'lyso!"

"It's fine, Ashton," Kalypso says. "Hi, uh, Auzzie." She hesitates. She looks to Calum for an answer about Auzilynn's name. "Is it short for something, or-"

"Auzilynn," Luke informs her. "Auzilynn Marie Rose Irwin."

Kalypso looks back at Ashton, questioning the child's name. Normal middle names with an off-the-wall first name. Ashton smiles a closed-mouth smile, dimples showing and obvious frustration in his face.

"Sage named her," says Ashton. Kalypso feels herself falling apart even more. Suddenly, she can see Sage in Auzilynn. The way her eyes shaped like almonds, her bottom lip tucks underneath her teeth the smallest bit when she smiles, her nose looks as if she were a Who in How The Grinch Stole Christmas. With Ashton mixed inside of her, she manages to be adorable still. "I wanted to name her Marie Adair, but Sage said we were going to move to America when Auzzie was a year old and it would tell everyone she's Australian."

"Are you guys visiting from America?" Kalypso asks. She just wants to know if Sage is in the picture, if Ashton's moved on so much. He has a kid, meaning that he's opened up his heart enough for another woman to enter his life. Knowing her luck, Kalypso wonders if there would even be a place for her anymore.

"We've never even left the country,"

"Then where's Sage?"

"Hopefully the cemetery," Ashton replies. "She died when Auzzie was only a few months old. Drug overdose. Never even met Auzzie after signing the birth certificate."

"Oh, I'm so sorry,"

Feeling guilty, Kalypso finds it sort of funny that Sage was the one Ashton cheated with but Kalypso was more successful than her. Karma is a bitch.

-

"Are you talking shit on me?" Fourteen-year-old Ashton Kalypso Mongtomery asks Ashton Irwin. She slides down the end of the leather couch in the school atrium to sit closer to him. He smells like cedarwood and bonfire smoke. "Afraid of a little competition?"

"What are you talking about?" Ashton Irwin asks. The Ashtons have heard of each other, but never talked directly. All they know is that they're both friends with Michael Clifford, but not the same friend group. Ashton Montgomery spends more time with her sister in the year below than with Luke Hemmings or Calum Hood. "I don't even know you."

"Bull!" Ashton Montgomery snarls. Ashton Irwin watches the ball in her lip move to the side when she gets sassy. He swears she didn't have that yesterday during English. "Stop talking shit, or we're going to have beef."

"We can't have beef if I don't know you!"

Ashton Montgomery's tongue rolls over the fresh piercing in her lip. "Watch your mouth." She disappears into a messy hallway, blue hair dye lost in a sea of students, as quickly as she'd shown up.

-

Ashton Irwin was held back a year, while Luke and Calum skipped one. All of them -Michael, Luke, Calum, and both Ashtons- were in the same grade. Ashton Montgomery stays strictly with her sister Stella or Michael, with the occasional visit with Luke, while Ashton Irwin is known as the new kid Luke, Calum, and Michael adopted.

"So was she hot?" Calum excitedly asks. He's not very well acquainted with Ashton Montgomery. Michael forbade him to try and date her when he first expressed feelings, and the rule still stands.

Stella and Luke are dating and have been for two years, crossing the groups over just enough for Ashton Irwin to be the only one not knowing about Ashton Montgomery. Surprisingly, though, the whole school knows of Ashton Montgomery and her intriguing reputation, so how does he not?

"Who?" Ashton Irwin questions. He lays his hand next to him on the couch, trying to draw a boundary line from Calum to him. Calum still edges closer on the blue fabric. "Can you get me some tape?" He asks Luke. Luke, sitting in the chair next to the couch, grabs a roll of duct tape out of a drawer. "Calum, if you don't back off, I'll tape you to a wall." He rips a piece of tape off loudly.

"I'm talking about Montgomery!"

"Who?"

"Ashton!"

If Calum or Luke had to pick one person to be afraid of, Ashton Montgomery would be in the top slot. She's five-foot-nothing, full of pure sass and piercings. Ashton Irwin has seen his name twin in the hallway a few times and wants to learn about the abyss of Ashton Montgomery.

"Wait, you talked to Ash today? Tap some ass?" Luke asks. He thinks maybe, just maybe, Ashton conquered his fear of ripped skinny jeans, a grey tank top, and a red flannel. Ashton groans. "What? You're the one that wants her.

"And so does Calum,"

"Yeah, but they don't share a name," Luke smirks.

Ashton rolls his eyes. "When is the guy supposed to be here? I need to smoke so I can no longer hear you."

"Ask Mike," Luke answers, shrugging. He's no help. "He's the one that knows him."

"But he's showering,"

"Looks like you'll have to wait a little while then,"

Ashton is ready to kick some thirteen-year-old ass.

-

Luke stands up from the porch table, bored of painting on a canvas. Capturing her attention, Kalypso looks up to make sure nothing is wrong. He's got all 10 fingers, no paint is spilled, and his section isn't complete. "Calum can paint this himself," he says, stretching backward.

Kalypso looks down at their progress. Hood is written in fancy cursive and half painted silver with black outlining. "What time is it?" She asks, throwing her paintbrush into a cup of water. The canvas Calum chose is bigger than the table and one of the most agitating, simple paintings Kalypsos ever made.

"It's quarter till nine,"

"Oh shit," Kalypso jumps up to look at her phone. "I was supposed to call Stella." She quickly dials up her sister.

Luke focuses on the painting instead of Stella Montgomery's voice. So sweet, so soft, so silky smooth and calming like lavender perfume she uses every day. Secretly, Luke missed Stella and everything about her; the way she smiles over the stupidest things, her singing voice, how she whispers his name right before falling asleep.

When Kalypso ends the call, he has to distract himself. Quickly, before he falls in love with teal blue bedroom walls and indie songs. "Are you going to Calum's bachelor party?"

"Isn't that for . . . Guys?"

"Yeah, but you're like, one of the guys so it counts."

"Is there a stripper?"

"It's just Cal, Mike, Ash, and a few other guys. If you want to strip-"

"-I'm good. No worries,"

"So do you want to go?" Luke asks again. He pounds the bristles of a cheap paint brush into the bottom of a plastic cup to remove silver paint. Pounding, pounding harder and harder until he's afraid of destroying the brush. "It's just a sit around and drink beer type of night,"

"Yeah, I guess," Kalypso starts typing. "Let me tell Stella."

The paint water is dark grey, diluted with tons and tons of silver and only a few bristles of black. How does Kalypso spend hours just painting? Luke's back feels terrible and they haven't cleaned up yet. She must be a trooper to be able to do this all day every day, he thinks.

"Ready?" Kalypso asks.

"Yeah,"

-

"Ashton, answer the door," Michael commands. His eyes are glued to the TV, trying to beat Luke at Mario Kart. There's no way he's going to lose.

"It's your house,"

"It's your weed,"

"He's two hours late, it's probably shit too. Answer your door,"

"Pussy," Michael murmurs. He pauses the game while Luke whines about stopping, and stands up. A door leads right into the basement of Michaels's house from the outside, which is lucky because even though Michaels's parents love her, it's easier for Ashton Montgomery to walk into the house that way.

Michaels's hand rests gracefully on the door handle. His heels rise to check the peephole to make sure it is Ashton Montgomery. Unlike all of his friends and everyone else in his grade, a ground-breaking growth spurt still hasn't happened. His right leg is a hair shorter than his left, so he's anticipating it soon.

Michael opens the door to warm air and the smell of honey and vanilla shampoo. His childhood best friend claps her right hand into his. They move into a Bro Hug and let go when she reaches for the baggie in her hoodie pocket with her left hand. The price falls from her lips.

“Got it,” Michael slips the money carefully into her hand. “Hangout for a few?”

Ashton Montgomery nods and walks into the pathway Michael has opened up. She finds a spot on the couch, opposite to the spot Ashton Irwin has taken over.

"So you're still talking shit on me, Irwin?" She asks, pulling her feet into the couch too so she can sit in the fetal position. Michael sits on the floor to play Mario Kart again but turns around to hand her a sugar cookie his mom had made. "My time is not good enough for you?" Her initials are frosted in blue on a white background.

"Wait, so you're the-"

"-plug? Yeah." She slips the corner of the square cookie into her mouth. It tastes delicious. "I heard you're trying to compete."

"I'm not trying to compete, I'm just-"

"Selling? I don't need helpers." Another piece into her mouth, but this time, it's a straight bite from the cookie. Ashton Irwin looks her over, remembering that she's Michaels friend. She's not some stranger Michael invited inside. His mom made her a cookie.

"Will you let me-" Ashton Irwin starts. Ashton Montgomery opens her mouth to interrupt, but a stern finger in her face shuts her up. "-talk. You can't take up the whole neighborhood. You're 14."

"Fifteen," She corrects. "I turned 15 three days ago."

"Yes, of course," He rolls his eyes. "15 and a drug dealer. How could I have thought any different?" Ashton Montgomery takes a larger bite of her cookie, trying to fit the rest into her mouth. A tiny corner remains. "Let me guess, your favorite alcohol is straight vodka, your favorite movie is American Pie, you overcharge on eighths, and you're the baby of your family.

Michael glances back at Ashton Montgomery to see what she has to say. She swallows hard and dusts her hands on her black sweatpants. She doesn't have to prove herself to someone that doesn't need an answer, but she's sassy.

"I'm the oldest, I don't drink, I don't overcharge, and my favorite movie is Cars,"

"Cars?" Ashton Irwin repeats back.

"Mack is under-appreciated and needs more love despite his mistakes. He didn't mean to leave McQueen behind. McQueen made him drive all night and-"

It was Ashton Irwin's turn to interrupt. "-I've never even seen Cars."

Ashton Montgomery takes her finger and points at him angrily. The rest of her cookie goes into her mouth with her other hand. "You're missing out." Her hands move to push back falling hairs from the messy bun underneath her hood.

"You only like Mack because your dad used to call you Mini Mack," Michael pauses the game of Mario Kart again to turn and face the Ashtons. Luke unpauses the game and waits for Michael to realize.

"Mini Mack?"

"My moms' name is Mackenzie-"

"-and she looks just like her. Mini Mackenzie," Michael finishes.

"Can we not talk about this?" Ashton Montgomery covers her face with her hoodie sleeves, wanting to just crawl into a hole and shy away from everyone.

"Is it like a sore subject of something?"

She jumps up from the couch. Sweaty palms dry themselves on her sweatpants. "We're oversharing." She shoves her hands into her pockets. "Don't get too close to your d*g dealer." She turns to leave.

"I'll walk you out," Ashton Irwin stands up off the couch too. Lucky for him, he's hit a growth spurt. He's taller than her by almost a foot. "Did you walk here?" Ashton Irwin is barefoot and not wanting to go far in pajama pants and a shirt.

"I live next door," He watches her piercing move as she sasses him. Just the smallest movement to the side. "I can walk myself home safely."

"I'm being gentleman-ly,"

"I'm being independent,"

"If you're going to be like that, then I'm just trying to ask for your phone number, Ashton,"

"Well you suck at it," Ashton Montgomery pulls her phone from her sweatpants pocket and smiles. A wad of twenties fell back into her pocket. "Here."

"I think this is the most confusing encounter we've had in a long time," Luke says, trying to figure out how to talk about the two without having to say full names. Ashton One and Ashton Two?

"Yeah," Ashton Montgomery accepts her phone back from him. He'd texted himself and inserted his last name into his contact information on her phone. "Still 'wanna walk me home?"

"Of course," he reaches his hand for hers.

-

Luke pops the top off a bottle of beer and hands it to Kalypso. She takes two large gulps from it and grimaces when she remembers she hates beer. It goes down sticky and leaves an aftertaste she's not fond of.

"Oh shit," Luke says after retiring into a lawn chair with his beer. "I forgot how much you hate beer." He takes a large drink to indulge in the tension.

"Bro, I could've told you that," Ashton laughs and sits across from Kalypso. There's a bonfire raging in between them, screaming in flames and burning sticks. Kalypso wants to jump into the fire so she can burn alive. She wants to disappear from Ashton's view.

Without thinking about the gross taste, the way it feels when it hits her stomach, the way too much too quickly twists her light-weight head. She downs the rest of it and throws the bottle into a bucket of glass far away. Ashton sassily looks away as if he were cursing Kalypso out in his mind and sips. He's not much of a drinker either.

Kalypso stands up from her chair and sets off to find Calum. If she can get away from Ashton, she'll be okay.

"Where are you going?" Like asks, getting ready to stand up too. Calum's backyard is spacious, equipped with a pool, a deck with a hot tub insert, and tons of play area for his dogs. Kalypso would be the one to get lost.

"I'm giving Calum his wedding present," Kalypso replies. The chairs they're gathered in aren't far from the door, tucked into a barren area you wouldn't see without a roaring fire, so if she turns the corner the spotlight should illuminate Calum. "Leave me alone."

She walks a few steps to the corner and notices everything. She's only walked from the laundry room door to the fire pit, instead of the glass door to the wholesome part. "Aye! Cal!" Kalypso calls to gather his attention to her.

The dark-haired man looks up from his phone, obviously distracted from walking to the fire. He waves her over with a smile. "'S up?"

She pulls her right hand out to clasp into his and he feels something burn into his palm. He pulls his hand away to examine what it is. Green nuggets inside of a baggie.

"No fucking way, 'Lypso," he grins wide and starts to open the baggie.

"Should be about five grams, maybe a bit more,"

"Oh my god I've never loved you more than I do right now," he pulls her into a close hug, pressing Kalypso uncomfortably into his chest. Calum hugs, as everyone calls them. He forgets about how small people can be, and sometimes just squishes them.

"Good to know that I'm only good for weed,"

"You're good for so much more than that," Calum rocks them both back and forth in the hug, wobbling on his feet. An extreme Calum Hug. "So much more."

"Like making Ashton Irwin uncomfortable,"

Calum squeezes tighter. Kalypso can barely breathe. "That's the highlight of my year, bitch. I've never seen one man so on edge by a tiny woman."

"Calum you're killing me,"

"Oh shit," Calum finally lets go. Kalypso's insides fall from their squeezed positions back to their regular programming. "weed mans still got weed, huh?"

"What type of person would I be if I didn't?"

Calum high fives her. Right hand to left. "Why do you always dap up with your right, but you're left-handed?"

Kalypso smiles. Calum surprisingly smells beer on her. "You see," she says, running and pulling him to the fire. "Because you're right-handed, and he's right-handed, and he's right-handed, and he's right-handed." She points one by one to Michael, Luke, and Ashton. "You just learn how to."

"I guess so," Calum answers. "So since you don't drink, you want something else? I can load a bowl if you want?"

"Sure," Kalypso smiles. She hasn't smoked with close friends in years. Before walking into their graduation, Kalypso, Michael, Luke, and Calum all smoked a joint in the parking lot. None of them remember graduating. That was the last time they all hung out.

-

"Ashton!" Mackenzie Montgomery yells when she enters their homey kitchen from the garage. Jasper and James, Ashton's twin little brothers, enter in behind her. "What's for di-" Mackenzie stops to survey the scene. Both Ashtons dressed in matching band shirts at the dining room table, enjoying some type of dinner. Two scented candles burn in between them. "I didn't realize you were having friends over. You're supposed to tell me."

Ashton Montgomery wipes her mouth with a paper towel. "You weren't answering your phone. I thought it would be okay." She picks up a shrimp from her bowl of Alfredo and pasta to put into Jasper's mouth.

"This is Iron Man," James holds up an action figure missing both legs. Ashton Irwin nods his head and takes another bite of pasta. "Who's your favorite superhero?"

"I'm sorry, I was just really busy," Mackenzie sighs. "Sorry for my disheveled state, sweetheart, I just got off the ICU floor so I'm done for." Mackenzie sets her belongings on the counter a few feet behind the wooden table. "Boys, leave Ashton and her friend alone for once please."

The twins are identical, including their need for glasses. Jasper's wispy brown hair falls in his face and into his black frame glasses while he munches on the shrimp his sister gave him. He's the so-called 'nicer' twin.

"You look like you like Superman," James tells Ashton Irwin. Ashton smiles at the young boy.

James is the outgoing of the two. He swoops his hair to the side to free up his tiny forehead, unlike Jasper. He's more sociable, open, and willing to meet new people. The Stella of the boys. He flirts, he makes friends with, and charms most girls he runs into. Including Calum's sister.

"Where's Stel?" Mackenzie asks, moving from the counter to the sink. "Ashton Kalypso, I'm going to beat you if you don't learn to put things into the dishwasher." She picks Tupperware the shrimp Alfredo had been in and rinses it out. The dishwasher opens, and clean dishes shine. "Ashton!"

Ashton Montgomery rolls her eyes and slides her food to Jasper. James steps away from Ashton Irwin to start eating out of his sisters' bowl. Neither of them uses a fork, causing Mackenzie to groan.

"It's not my fault when Stella doesn't empty the dishwasher," Ashton Montgomery sasses. The lip piercing moves with her lip, and every time it does, Ashton Irwin just wants to stare. Sass is her biggest quality, the thing she's the best at. "Like, ever!"

"She's twelve, give her a break,"

"She's actually thirteen, Mother, but if you say so,"

"Ashton Kalypso Montgomery, can you please not be so sassy all the time? Do you know how to be normal?" Mackenzie turns from the dishwasher and remembers that there's a guest in the house. "I promise I'm not bullying my child, I'm just joking around." She takes a deep breath. "I'm Mackenzie, Ash's mom, but Michael just calls me mom like every other damn person I run into."

"If you're hungry, help yourself, blah blah blah," Ashton Montgomery slumps back in her chair. "I already gave him the rundown."

"So if you make a mess?" Mackenzie asks.

"You clean it up," Ashton Irwin answers.

"Ah! I like you already!" Mackenzie says. She pulls her black hair from her face and into a ponytail. And Ashton Irwin can see the resemblance entirely. "I'm going to go get freshened up. Don't give the boys any dessert, please. And, oh! I never got your name."

Ashton Irwin stands up to shake Mackenzie's hand. She's taller than her daughter, but Ashton Montgomery is an exact carbon copy of her mother. "I'm Ashton." He holds his hand out.

Mackenzie takes it. "Ashton?" She looks at her flushed-faced daughter slumping further into her chair. Mackenzie's eyes go wide. "Oh! I've heard about you."

"Is it bad?"

"Not my place to tell,"

Ashton looks over at Ashton at the table. "Really, huh?"

-

Taking in a breath full of smoke from the end of a pipe, Kalypso leans backward in the lawn chair. Calum's got those expensive lawn chairs with cushions, and a fire pit built into a table. Kalypso's body is warm from the fire and the guys surrounding it. Calum to her left, Luke to her right, Michael on the other side of Luke, Ashton between him and Calum. Laid out in front of her, past Ashton's head, she can see the city she grew up in. Lights that never seem to turn off. Cars and people that will never know it's her sitting on top of the hill, her back facing an expensive house.

She lets go of the smoke in her lungs, a cloud falling from her mouth. So thick and warm it blends in with the smoke from the fire. Luke snaps his finger in her direction, garnering her attention from the pretty lights in front of her. She blows the remains of the smoke in his face, turning toward him. He's chewing on the edge of a cinnamon-flavored graham cracker.

"Truth or dare?" he nods his head toward her. He leans his head back to take the last of his graham cracker. Luke's hands rubbed themselves together to get rid of crumbs and he finally rests them in his lap.

"I'm twenty-three, Luke, not twelve," Kalypso answers. She's not interested in the game.

"Just pick,"

"Fine," she presses the opening of her pipe back to her mouth, ready to ignite her personal flames again. The fires of her drug reflect in the eyes of Ashton's, and he dreads the flick of her thumb on a blue lighter. "Truth."

"Wimp," Luke smiles at her and her lighter ignites. Ashton can't help but watch her, ignoring Michael and Calum's conversation. "Where do you work?"

She breathes in deeply and pulls away from the glass. "I paint custom canvases for people." She lets go of the smoke, turning her head to her right shoulder so she doesn't hit Luke in the face with it. "Follow me on Instagram, a-k-m-underscore-arts."

"Wait," Ashton pauses. He waves his hand in the air to cut her off. "I think I just ordered a canvas from you for Auzzie. Auzilynn, A-u-z-i-l-y-n-n,"

Of course, Kalypso thinks. "Yeah, I think you did," She doesn't want to talk to Ashton. She wants to forget he exists. Kalypso wants the broken gems inside of her to fuse back together, but she can't do that. She doesn't know why. "Uh . . . Mike, truth or dare?"

Michael glances at Kalypso. "Dare?"

Kalypso blinks quickly, forgetting the feeling of a spinning world from her low tolerance. Her eyes close for a few seconds when she balances herself and sets the pipe down on the table surrounding the fire. "Go jump in the pool fully clothed."

"Now you're the one acting twelve," Michael laughs. "But bet. It's hot out here anyway."

-

“Look at the moon," Ashton points a steady finger to the glowing globe in the sky, lighting their way down the bumpy sidewalks. Eventually, Ashton hopes he'll have a car, and when he and Kalypso hang out, they won't have to skate back to either house. "It's so pretty,"

"Not prettier than you," Kalypso blows a kiss toward him, just a few feet ahead. Her skateboard is smaller than his, but the bottom is scratched up and doesn't have as much paint as it used to. Emblems from Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Sublime, AC/DC, and Nirvana's smiley face were once painted over a pink sunset. Scratches from skatepark equipment are starting to fade the emblems.

Ashton catches the kiss in a hand and releases it to the sky until a horrific scream brings him back. Lying on the cement a few feet away from a crack in the cement, Kalypso's lying on the ground. Ashton stop's his skateboard and discards it in the grass. The moon illuminates her clear left cheek.

"Are you okay?" He slides to the ground next to her and grabs her left arm to shift her to her right side. Somewhat of a rash on her right cheek, her wrist cocked oddly, and she just giggles. "'Lypso, are you okay?"

She continues giggling, her chest bubbling from the ground and bouncing her curled hair. "It hurts like a bitch," Kalypso giggles when she's hurt, Ashton realizes. "You should kiss it and make it feel better." An odd coping mechanism, but at least she's not crying.

"Kiss what?"

"My broken fucking hand,"

Ashton presses his lips to her hand. Soft buttons of pink kiss lightly. "Better?"

"Oh second thought, I think I busted my lip open too," Kalypso smiles. Burning, stinging is flowing through her wrist and she winces when she tries to move her fingers. "It needs a kiss." It would be impossible to explain to Mackenzie, to tell her that Kalypso wrecked her skateboard and still manage to ride when she heals. Mackenzie will want to ban skateboards from Kalypso, Stella, and the boys.

Ashton doesn't think, he just does what she asked. As humans ruin everything they touch, Ashton and Kalypso ruin each other in ways that make growth. Like destroying the ground to plant a blooming tree or trimming long hair so it will grow longer and healthier. Ashton's lips ruin watermelon lip balm on Kalypso's, and Kalypso ruins Ashton's wonder of what it tasted like.

A fire ignited between the two, leaving them both breathless after a two-second kiss. Flowers grew from both of them, sprouting beautiful things. They can't believe themselves.

Ashton, the brunette boy that was a year older than everyone else in his grade, kissed the girl he thinks of first every morning until unconsciousness brings him to dreams of marriage and spending the rest of his life with her. The girl that smiles and makes him photograph the way butterflies land and stick to her hair, the way Ashton looks happiest on rainy days with clouds looming in the sky, and everything she never wants to forget.

"I win," Kalypso smiles, even though her entire body is shaking. Ashton sits up and wraps arms underneath her back and knees. Kalypso's pulled from the ground and she kicks until her feet are planted. "I bet Luke you'd do it tonight."

"Do what tonight?"

"Kiss me."

"So you're telling me you broke your hand intentionally,"

Kalypso sighs. "Nope," she looks at her already-swollen hand. It's terrifying. "Go hard or go home, right?"

-

"Truth or dare?" Michael laughs, his shirt gone, and hair wild. "Ashton." he sips a beer, feeling some type of buzz plaguing his mind.

"Truth," Ashton answers. He's holding his beer more than the rest of them. With Kalypso present, he physically cannot become intoxicated. He doesn't know how, but he knows that no matter what she's to be protected. After years of going out drinking with her in high school, he made sure she was safe before he was.

"C'mon man, all you pick is truth,"

"I don't want to go into the pool,"

Michael scoffs. "Fine. What happened two days before graduation, Irwin?"

Kalypso looks up from the ground. She can't breathe. The flowers inside of her started to choke her airways until she knew that Ashton was watching her. Act normal. Act normal. She pretends to be unbothered. Everyone can see through it.

"What happened?" She whispers and takes Luke's glass of whiskey. She drinks all of it at once and hands the ice back to his protesting whines. "I'd like to hear this."

"I didn't do anything, actually,"

"Really, because-"

"-I went to a party," Ashton leans forward to set his beer down. Elbows on knees, hands clasped together. "And I drank something that Sage had given me. I woke up three hours later to Luke screaming at me. Sage told him I cheated on you."

The first time he'd been able to say it directly, out loud, in the presence of anybody else. The first time Kalypso felt she could talk about it too.

"Really? I heard-"

"-Where's your fucking evidence, Ashton?"

Kalypso's eyes went wide. She hadn't been called that name in forever. Her family, her friends, everyone around her adjusted to her new name. She stands up from her chair. She no longer cares what happens, she no longer cares if she's ever around him again. "Where's your evidence that you didn't, Ashton?" The ache in her heart tells her that she still loves him as she did five years ago.

"Video evidence dating that the entire time I was asleep in my bedroom, she was at the diner on George Street telling everyone she was going to prank us with that,"

"Bullshit,"

"Why would I lie? Five years, five fucking years, 'Lypso! Why would I lie about that?"

Kalypso blinks hard, frustrated, and stares at Calum. "I'm going back to my hotel. I'll see you in the morning." She looks back at Ashton. "You can go fuck yourself."

-

"Eight, nine, ten, eleven-" A road of thunder interrupts Kalypso. Lightening lights the setting sky. "It's eleven miles away."

"Really? The radar says it's already storming," Ashton replies, smiling. Kalypso pushes his phone from his hands. Being overdramatic, Ashton falls from his side into a soft thump on his back. "Look, you're so rough you knocked me over!"

"Liar!" Kalypso giggles. Her right hand, jailed in a blue cast, clenches her blanket when she lightly pressed into his chest with her left. "I think you're perfectly fine."

After breaking her wrist, Mackenzie put her daughter on house arrest. Ashton, Michael, and any other friends can visit, but Kalypso can't go see them until she's healed.

"Dinner!" Mackenzie yells from the bottom of their carpeted stairwell. Kalypso stands up from the comfy bed and grabs her phone off the charger.

When Kalypso was old enough to decorate her own bedroom, she took advantage of the design. She was given two closets, one with sliding doors, and one that has a single door leading to a room of shelves. Years prior her uncle helped her remove the sliding doors and shove her full-sized mattress into the space. Pillows along the back of the closet, where the widest part of her bed is. She has a perfect view of her TV and the windows.

"Ashton, dinner," Kalypso laughs. Her hand ruffles his messy curls and giggles at his bandana choice. The same color as her hair- cherry red. "C'mon, I'm hungry!"

"You're going to have to force me, Hungry, I'm comfy,"

"Oh yeah?" Off of her nightstand, she grabs a disposable camera and snaps a photo of Ashton, his stubborn self, and all of his glory. "One day, we're going to be twenty-something, and you're going to look at these photos and say 'thank goodness I'm not that stubborn anymore'."

"And you're going to wonder why you have always been dramatic and use disposable cameras."

"It's easier to print and hang up,"

"I think you're a little bit obsessed with my face," Ashton points to the wall surrounding the bed. Photos of Ashton and Kalypso, some with Michael and the guys, or Stella and Kalypso the few times they've gotten along. She changes the switch of her fairy lights to illuminate the area. She never needed an overhead light with floor-to-ceiling windows scattered around.

"I am not!" Kalypso smiles. Her hair is messy, wavy, and poofy in different directions. She tucks as much as she can behind her ear. Ashton grabs the camera to snap a photo of her reaching for him. "Please! I'm hungry!"

"What'd your mom make for dinner?"

"Grilled salmon,"

"You hate fish,"

"But you don't!" She tugs harder on his hand. "I'm hungry!"

"What are you going to eat?"

"Grandma is making Jasper and I chicken strips," Calypso falls backward onto her hardwood floor when Ashton stands up. He catches her when her butt grazes the ground and pulls her into him. "C'mon!"

"So you get chicken strips and I get fish?"

"Yes!" Kalypso continues pulling Ashton out of her room, down the stairs. Stella and the boys have already made it to the bottom. "It's your favorite. Last night we had my favorite, and tomorrow we get James' favorite."

"You just had to include me, huh?" Ashton asks while he descends from the top floor. Kalypso's two stairs ahead of him.

She shakes her head. "Actually, I requested shrimp alfredo for dinner but no. Mom wanted me to have something you like," She lies.

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh!" They end up at the bottom of the stairs and round the left corner to the kitchen. "You're here every day. Might as well include you."

James groans, looking at his sisters' boyfriend. "Do you ever go home?" With Ashton in the picture, James didn't get to spend as much time with Kalypso.

"James Samuel!" Mackenzie calls. "That's not very nice."

Pre-Ashton, James, and Jasper could fall asleep in Calypso's bed with her. When Ashton and Kalypso started dating, Ashton started sticking around until she falls asleep and goes home when he knows she is officially out for the night. The times Ashton stays with the guys, he calls her to talk when she feels drowsy. It's their routine.

Mackenzie sets a tray of chicken strips on the table for the non-fish-liking children. "Ash, can you- My Ashton," She smiles, uncomfortable. "Ashton Kalypso, can you get the tea from the outside fridge?"

"I vow we call her 'Lypso!" Jasper says, already stealing chicken strips. His dark hair falls over his auburn eyes.

"No!" James answers. "Ashton One and Ashton Two."

"Or," Kalypso holds a finger in the air. "Ditch Ashton entirely and become Fletcher and Kalypso." Ashton gives her a side-eye glare. "What?"

"I'm not going by Fletcher,"

"Noob,"

"Kalypso, tea!" Mackenzie demands and points to the garage door. Kalypso disappears inside.

"We should just sell Ashton Kalypso on eBay!"

"James, we aren't selling your sister," Mackenzie shakes her head. She sits on the first chair to the right, and across from Jasper. Ashton and Kalypso always sit next to each other on the other side of the boys.

"But she's a girl," He grimaces. "And she talks a lot now."

"I would rather her talk a lot than be silent again," Mackenzie says. "Ashton, you're a real blessing to her. You have no idea."

"What do you mean?"

"Until last year she never really talked to anyone but Michael and Stella," Mackenzie starts. Ashton couldn't believe that at one point, Kalypso was so shy she couldn't talk. "I swear she talked for an hour straight the day she met you."

"Mom," Kalypso groans, closing the garage door behind her. A pitcher of sun tea half mixed with lemonade in her hands. The only thing the boys will drink besides soda. "There are some things you don't have to share."

-

Three shots down, as many as it takes to go. Kalypso, even hating alcohol, wants to forget his name. She wants to forget that he exists in the real world and that he's so close, but so far away. All she can do is scream his name and wonder why she wasn't good enough. They were too young to know about love, and if they weren't they were too dumb to think that it could last forever.

Kalypso forgot the massive bar and hangout area Michael had in his basement. When the five, and sometimes Stella, became known and interested in alcohol, Michael's was the house to get it from. Easy access, nobody realized anything was touched. Either there, or stealing food from Kalypso's refrigerator, you could find any of them.

Luke sets down a box in front of her at the bar. "Ashton says this is for you." He slides it closer to her. Her palm stops it.

She doesn't want anything to do with Ashton. His stupid box, his stupid face, his stupid mistakes. She was rejecting his presence and everything that comes with it. "Shove it up his ass" She put another shot into her mouth and swallowed. Four in. So many more to go.

"Kal, can you please just take it?"

She slams her glass down onto the marble counter. "What's in it?" If it's stupid, there was no point in opening it.

"No idea,"

Kalypso tucks her pink thumbnail at the paper tape. She is just a slice, just barely a poke, away from whatever Ashton is up to.

"Probably just giving things back,"

"Five years later?"

"You never know." Luke grabs a knife from the other side of the bar and slices the top open quickly. Flaps fly open, revealing several things inside. Michael adjusts off a barstool to get a closer look.

Papers, indented and worn by ballpoint pens of all colors. Stuffed animals, jewelry, familiar things Ashton has given to Kalypso and she returned. Off the top, Luke lays a stuffed stingray on the bar. Kalypso loved that stingray, named it Dionysius, and kept it amongst her pillows for years.

A necklace with Ashton engraved in a silver plate, two stuffed bears his mom had made, and rocks they'd painted together. Movie ticket stubs from every date, and the millions of photos they'd taken together. She glued them to the inside when she gave him the brown box. She gave him the box that way and he never changed it. Maybe they weren't too naive to know what love is.

"Look," Michael says and grabs a photo from the box, pulling it off easily. "You were so small." He gives it to Kalypso to see.

Wide-eyed, a mouth full of braces, and wearing Ashton's clothes, Kalypso was sitting in Ashton's lap. Her hand blocking most of her face, leaving only Ashton and a thirteen-year-old Luke to be seen. Her hand was in a cast-- the photo was from when they first started dating.

Kalypso grabs another photo from the box. Sitting in the front, she was the smallest and not looking in the mirror like everyone else was. Kalypso's bedroom-- her mirror covered in plastic flowers, the boys and Stella posing with her. Calum to her left, Stella to her right, Ashton behind her, Luke behind Calum, Michael behind Stella. Stella had taken the photo. Kalypso was at least seventeen.

On the bottom of the box was a photo printed on regular printer paper of the fire she used to engulf his belongings. A jersey she had with IRWIN on the back for all of his football games, his clothes, and the rest of their photos.

"He kept this for five years?" She shakes her head. "Now, who can't get over who?"

Luke reads a paper in the box. "You should look at this." A giant blue #1 shone at the top of it.

' 'Lypso, I tried to talk to you and your mom yesterday to explain what happened and the whole story. You wouldn't give me the time of day. I wouldn't either, to be honest. '

She reads it aloud. The letter continues, explaining the box. Everything inside was the same and he didn't want it. Another paper, labeled #2, had a list.

1.I've written coordinates down. These are all the places where I knew I couldn't live without you. Something significant happened at each one and I remember them all perfectly. Plug it into google and remember, for me.

2. You can go there. If you want to pretend you're in a fanfiction of a young adult movie where we'll end up together. If you do, I have something there to remind you of it all.

3. You don't have to forgive me or take me back. I just want you to know how much I still love you.

4. They're not in order.

Coordinates:

"Either of you have Google Earth?" Kalypso asks. Luke pulls his phone out. She enters the first set and waits. "Literally we're right here." Kalypso looks for answers in the men.

"How about you go look in the downstairs living room," Luke hints. "That's where-"

"-That's where he asked for my number,"

"And you still have an interrupting problem."

Kalypso rolls her eyes, but can't seem to get downstairs fast enough. A photo is waiting for her where Ashton sat that night. She grabs the paper; it has something else to say.

"I'm the oldest, I don't drink, I don't overcharge, and my favorite movie is Cars." "Cars?" "Mack is under-appreciated and deserves more love despite his mistakes,"

I swear that was the most eye-opening and Kalypso thing I'd heard, Mini Mack

"I remember that night," Kalypso can see it.

"15 and a drug dealer. How could I have thought any different?" Ashton Montgomery takes a larger bite of her cookie, trying to fit the rest into her mouth. A tiny corner remains. "Let me guess, your favorite alcohol is straight vodka, your favorite movie is American Pie, you overcharge on eighths, and you're the baby of your family."

"First night Ashton had bought from me personally," Kalypso felt the warmth through her entire body. Ashton remembered.

"I'm the oldest, I don't drink, I don't overcharge, and my favorite movie is Cars,"

"Cars?" Ashton Irwin repeats back.

"Mack is under-appreciated and needs more love despite his mistakes. He didn't mean to leave McQueen behind. McQueen made him drive all night and-"

It was Ashton Irwin's turn to interrupt. "-I've never even seen Cars."

Ashton Montgomery takes her finger and points at him angrily. The rest of her cookie goes into her mouth with her other hand. "You're missing out." Her hands move to push back falling hairs from the messy bun underneath her hood.

He remembered one of the most insignificant things about her.

"You only like Mack because your dad used to call you Mini Mack," Michael pauses the game of Mario Kart again to turn and face the Ashtons. Luke unpauses the game and waits for Michael to realize.

"Mini Mack?"

"My moms' name is Mackenzie-"

"-and she looks just like her. Mini Mackenzie," Michael finishes.

The next coordinate was where she wrecked her skateboard. Taped to a broken stick is a photo of Kalypso laying on Ashton's bed with him. It was a few days after when everyone finally caught up with decorating her cast, and Mackenzie didn't realize Kalypso had left the house. She wore a white tank top, one strap falling off her arm. Right hand bandaged up, lays in Ashton's next to her. Kalypso was surprised by the camera Ashton's sister randomly ran up to them with. She caught a photo while standing on top of Ashton's bed.

"You should kiss it and make it feel better."

She still has the scar from the wreck on her wrist. A reminder of that night for the rest of her life. The feeling of Ashton's lips on hers. Warm cement painful under her palms.

"Kiss what?"

"My broken fucking hand,"

Ashton presses his lips to her hand. Soft buttons of pink kiss lightly. "Better?"

"Oh second thought, I think I busted my lip open too," Kalypso smiles. Burning, stinging is flowing through her wrist and she winces when she tries to move her fingers. "It needs a kiss."

He remembered eating dinner at Kalypso's house every night for eight weeks straight. The day her cast was removed, they went on their first date.

Makenzie made them do an uncomfortable photoshoot before their showing of Cars. A dress, a bowtie that clipped on, and uncomfortable shoes. Teaching Kalypso how to drive, laughing when she screamed while merging on the freeway. Video games, arcades, records. Their one-year dinner catered by Michael and Calum, listening to 2000s rap the whole time. Kalypso surprised Ashton with the jersey. One time Kalypso fell asleep on Ashton at Michael's house. Kalypso showing off her license when she got the guts to get it. A bonfire at the beach for Ashton's birthday, even though they couldn't swim.

They stargazed every night of the summer until the sun rose or sleep overcame them. Where they met for a concert, where Ashton parked his car at a drive-in date, Ashton getting a bunch of a facemask mixture stuck in his curls.

Their last year together. Driving around for hours on end, listening to AC/DC, and laughing. They always bought slushies beforehand. An entire day on a boat in the lake. Bikinis, tanning lotion, and seven of Kalypso's cousins. All he could see was her. Kalypso got her first tattoo at 18-- a dinosaur encased in a glass jar. A 50s themed Disney Movie marathon Luke, Calum, and Stella helped Ashton plan. The day before they broke up.

The day before they broke up.

'I'll always love you. -Ashton'

She drops the last thing into the box. Does Ashton still love her? Impossible to think about. He has a daughter, probably a girlfriend, probably an entire life she would be imploding on. She puts the box in front of her waist. Kalypso feels bare and like nothing before. "Can you take me to the hotel?" Ashton knew Kalypso better than he knew himself.

Luke nods his head and motions for her to walk with him to Michael's car. On the back window, there's a penis drawn in the dirt.

It's easier for Kalypso to be in the dark, wiping falling tears like nothing. Headlights illuminating the road, not her. Luke pats her hand on the armrest. She was once hard, a badass around everyone but Ashton, and now the only scary part about her is her quick wit.

-

Stella set up the hotel room. Toiletries in the bathroom, pajamas on the bed. The sisters decided to share a suitcase for their two-day trip. They'll fly back tomorrow night-- they'll go back to their apartments after picking Magik up from Jaspers, and Kalypso will spend all night trying to catch up on painting orders.

"What's that?" Stella asks, folding a shirt over her hands. She's getting ready for a shower. Instead of replying, Kalypso sets the box on Stella's bed. Her legs buckle underneath and her sister has to catch her before she shatters into the carpet.

Muttered words. Teas. Stella opens the overly stuffed box that they couldn't close. She is amazed, reading everything Ashton had to say about Kalypso. The photographs, the concert tickets to Blink-182 and some country singers. A stapled-together packet of Kalypso's favorite of everything. Songs, movies, food, drinks, even her favorite names. The joke she always made about naming their kids Asher and Ashley. Her favorite colors and the book she constantly read over and over again and became surprised at the outcome every time.

Ashton knew everything about her when they dated. Things she never realized herself. She knew him as he knew her. The day before graduation, though, he had made his decision.

-

Kalypso applied a white shimmer to her tear ducts. Dabbing opposite of a red smokey eye. Practicing her graduation makeup one last time and trying to get Ashton's opinion about it.

"How many of my bandanas are you going to steal?" Ashton asks, throwing another bandana toward his girlfriend. She wipes the glitter off her middle finger onto her blue jeans.

"We both can wear one," She folds the bandana up into a strap and hands it back to Ashton. "Put it on. You'd look cute."

"Cute? I'm supposed to be intimidating." Ashton giggles, but reluctantly folds the strip over his forehead and ties it at the base of his neck. "Now we look alike."

"Is that a bad thing?" Kalypso asks.

"Nope," Ashton stands up from Kalypso's bed to stand behind her. All he can think about is how much he loves her, how beautiful she always has been. Freshly dyed, cherry red hair chopped at her shoulders, curly from braids. "Are we still going to the beach after graduation?" She had tied a bandana in her hair to hold her hair back too. Black and white, like Ashton's.

"Yeah, but after the graduation party,"

Ashton grimaces. He has a surprise for her at the beach. A stupid party will get in the way.

"C'mon, Ash, your mom is throwing it for all of us,"

"She's such a cock block,"

"Ashton!"

"I'm kidding," Ashton giggles again.

"Now, what do you think of this look?"

"I think that you look beautiful no matter what," Ashton smiles. Her lipstick matches her hair and looks like it would stain his lips. "With or without makeup."

Calypso sighs. "You always say that," She grabs her phone from the floor. A text to Stella asking where she is.

"And?"

"You have to say that,"

If Ashton never said it, he'd be a liar. She is his princess, more goddess-like than anyone had ever seen. "Do you want me to tell you if you look ugly."

"Yes,"

"If I only ever told you when you looked ugly, I'd be mute,"

Kalypso rolls her eyes. "Of course you would say that."

Ashton's head reaches over her right shoulder to press a kiss on her cheek. "You look like the moon and every star in the galaxy."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I can spend three summers straight watching you every time you're around and still get excited for the next one,"

Kalypso blushes. "You're so cheesy."

"I know," A ding from his phone distracts Ashton from his girlfriend. "Luke wants to know if he can come back with Stella."

"Sure,"

Ashton types quickly. The text sends. Luke's on his way with Stella. "Are you excited to be done with school?"

"Yes," Kalypso smiles. Braces removed, teeth are pearly white and straight. "We can hang out so much more than before. We don't have to worry about curfews or my brothers."

"Still dreaming about an apartment with a clawfoot bathtub and large windows everywhere?"

"With high ceilings and at least one cat? Of course,"

"We'll move to Melbourn and live happily ever after,"

"Melbourn? You've never said anything about Melbourn before?"

"I may be trying to pull a few strings,"

"Ash!" Kalypso gasps.

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to go or-"

"-Stella entering the room! Please redress!" Stella announces, pushing Kalypso's bedroom door open. "What's the tea?"

"We'll talk about this later, okay?" Kalypso assures.

"Of course," Ashton hopes she's okay with it.

-

"He tried so hard on all of this, oh my, . . . wow," Stella's still pulling things from the box, looking over everything included. Her finger catches on a CD. "What's on this?" Kalypso has no clue but grabs her laptop out of her suitcase.

Her finger shakily presses play and a screen of dark lighting and an ugly girl sitting in a diner booth shows up. It's Sage.

Long, black hair pulled into an overly large messy bun that outweighed her entire head. A square-shaped face and a pig nose permanently turned upward.

Sage shoves a french fry into her mouth while smiling. The person behind the camera asks what Sage was so happy about. She shoves another fry into her mouth. "I came up with a genius idea. Prank the high school sweethearts. There's no way that shit can last forever."

"How'd you do it?" A boy sitting next to her asks.

"I put Nyquil in Ashton's drinks. Knocked him out cold. I'll tell him that he got super drunk and we had sex. The worst thing that'll happen is they'll break up." Sage giggles, covering her mouth. Her fingers are manicured with long acrylics and red nail polish. "I have to show this to like Stella or something so Kalypso isn't that depressed."

"Don't you want them to break up so you can date Ashton though?"

"Ew!" Sage shoves her friend next to her. "I could never. Not into weirdos."

Stella pulls her sister into her arms. The biggest hug she could offer to her best friend. Kalypso partly crawls into her lap, feeling like shit.

"I'm an idiot,"

"You didn't know,"

"Did you ever see this?"

"Not once. I haven't even talked to her since I was like sixteen,"

"I should've believed him." He probably has a wife, another kid on the way, a whole life with no room for Kalypso.

Stella grabs the box and turns it upside down. "He kept all of this for so long." All of the contents spill out onto the floor. "What's that?" She points to a tiny velvet box on the carpet. It only reminds Kalypso of one thing.

"No way," Stella passes the box to Kalypso. "Is this-" She cracks the box open and a gold ring with two silver diamonds on top stares at her. "Oh my God."

Stella picks up the ring. "I . . . I remember this. You and I have the same sized fingers so he made me go with him while you were at work one day,"

"You knew?" Tingles flow through Kalypso's body.

"He was going to propose on the beach. After you graduated. He was trying so hard to get his mom to cancel the party so you'd make it for the sunset."

Kalypso cries even harder, thinking about her past.

-

Kalypso ducks her head underneath the water of her hotel bathtub. Chocolate brown locks billow around her like she's some magical creature or a mermaid. She remembers when she was younger and would've stained the bathtub with different hair dye concoctions. The happiest moments in her life included colored hair -- and Ashton. Chocolate brown, like a symbolistic feature telling her she's not living to her fullest potential.

Her Last dye was that cherry red before graduation. Ashton brought out everything she loved about herself. Quickly, she resurfaced, gasping for breath. She couldn't live without Ashton. Stella threw her clean clothes and watched her run to the passenger door of Michael's car. They sped off, driving way faster than they should have.

Michael stopped in front of Ashton's moms' house, watching Kalypso knock on Ashton's door. Her hair is still dripping wet and staining the back of her shirt. Michael's anticipating someone answering the door. It's just Ashton, Auzilynn, and his mom. Someone will answer that knows Kalypso.

Ashton's the one to open the door. He can't even speak before her.

"You say you fell in love with me in the basement and you remembered that I'm Mini Mack. You stayed with me for eight weeks from the time school got out until I fell asleep when I broke my hand. You set up dates for me and you with Michael, Luke, Calum, or Stella creating stupid pasta dishes with mystery meat because we never had money because we were teenagers. You taught me how to drive. You put up with my constant pictures and annoying comments.

You spent summers with me on a trampoline looking at the sky because I told you that seeing the stars made me happy. You gave me one of your football jerseys when you would wear the other so we would match. You called me beautiful all the time, every single day, and never once let me forget it. You made me feel emotions I didn't know I had. I drowned in you, but yet," Kalypso finally looks up from the ground to lock eyes with Ashton. Her blue orbs lock with brown ones. "I believed someone with a fake tan and an ugly nose over you."

"It was because everyone else did," Ashton says. He's stone-faced, afraid that if he shows emotion he'll crumble. She's his drug, even after five years of straight hatred. "Luke, Michael, Calum, Stella," He looks away. Ashton can't stand to look at her anymore without turning into the high school boy in love with her. He spent five angry years going to sleep without knowing she was safe and secure with a pillow, a blanket, and that stupid stingray. "They all believed her because I couldn't remember."

"Yeah, but I should've trusted you," Kalypso starts tearing up. Her voice can paint pictures of nature scenes you only see in dreams, but her tears could destroy villages and towns. Ashton holds a hand out to her, wanting to bring her inside. "I was so stupid."

"You didn't know," Kalypso takes his hand for the warmth of a home again. One she spent a lot of time during her adolescence. The carpet is still warm and white, the couch with a strain on the armrest from when Ashton spilled something on it. His bedroom upstairs, where they made out one too many times. Her home away from home.

"You wanted to go to the beach," Kalypso whispers. "You . . . you wanted to go to the beach, and right before, I ruined it. I ruined it all. And now you have Auzzie and a maybe wife and I'm never going to be worth anything in your life but just right now I want you to consider, do you still love me? Right here, right now, that's all I need to know and I'll leave you alone."

Ashton pulls Kalypso close to his body for a hug. He smells the same, feels the same, and radiates the same energy he had for several years. "Ashton Kalypso," Ashton softly smiles, trying to lighten the mood. "You overthink way too much."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I could never stop loving you,"

#Ashton irwin #Ashton Irwin x oc #Ashton calypso montgomery #old me #calm #no shame #Ashton Irwin ff #Ashton Irwin fic #Ashton Irwin smut #Calum Hood x reader #Calum Hood imagine #Luke Hemmings blurb #Michael Clifford smut #5sos smut #5 seconds of summer #fluff #angst #smut #drugs #weed #alcohol #5 seconds of summer smut #5sos ashton #5sos Luke #5sos calum #5sos michael #5sos fic #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #5sos x oc

[missdaviswrites]

8--Warm Bath

Sherlock turned the tap off and opened the door to the bathroom just as John came into the bedroom. "She finally asleep?"

"Yeah, I think so." John yawned and blinked his eyes shut for a moment. "She's snoring, at least. She kept down the last few sips of water that I gave her, and her temperature is almost back to normal."

"Good." Sherlock let himself sag a bit in relief, then switched his attention from Rosie to John. "Take off all your clothes," he said.

"Do not tell me you're in the mood for—"

"No, no. You have hours-old vomit on your trousers and more recent toddler-snot on your shirt. Take off all your clothes. I've drawn a warm bath already."

John looked torn, and Sherlock knew how hard it was for him to put aside his concern for Rosie. "She'll be fine. The bathroom is right below her room. We'll hear if she wakes up."

John nodded and began to strip, dropping his clothes into the laundry basket by the door. When he got down to his underwear, he stepped into the steamy bathroom and took a deep breath. "Oh, you're an angel."

"Hardly." Sherlock backed himself up against the sink; there wasn't enough space in the room for two adults to fit comfortably.

"You put some of Rosie's lavender soap in the bath, didn't you?"

"Well, it helps her to sleep. And I know you must be tired."

John laughed and then stretched up for a kiss. He dragged his hands down the front of Sherlock's dressing gown. "We aren't both going to fit into that tub, though, I'm sorry to say."

"I'm already clean." Sherlock edged away from John so that he could open his gown, showing the fresh pyjamas he wore beneath it. "Now take off your pants and vest and get into that tub."

John complied, and Sherlock watched, appreciating the view without feeling particularly compelled to join him. It was amazing how much looking after a tiny child with a gastrointestinal virus could change one's perspective. "Is the water still warm enough?"

"Yes, it's perfect." John rested his head against the back of the tub and stretched out as far as he could—he could almost straighten his legs, but not quite. Definitely not room for the two of them. "Oh, God. It's been such a long day."

"Agreed. Do you want something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Beer? Scotch? Wine? Erm, hot chocolate? Milk? Orange juice?" He thought that covered everything they had in the house.

"Wine. That's a bathtub drink, isn't it?"

"Anything can be a bathtub drink, if you're doing it right."

"I have no idea what that means, but a glass of wine would be wonderful. Thank you."

Sherlock grinned and went to pour a glass for each of them. When he returned, he sat on the floor, because the edge of the tub was too narrow to be comfortable and he thought drinking wine while sat on the toilet would be a step too far, even for him.

John sipped at his drink and stirred the bath water around a bit with his free hand. "You give excellent baths, I must say."

"I should. I've had plenty of practice over the past year or so."

"I hope you don't offer Rosie wine."

"No, and even the sippy cup of milk has to wait until after the bath. I've bent the rules for you."

"Thanks, love." John tipped his glass toward him before taking another swallow.

"It's because I appreciate that you don't try to dump as much water out of the tub and onto me as Rosie usually does."

John laughed and Sherlock smiled, leaning back against the wall. This was definitely not how he'd imagined a romantic evening between the two of them would go, back when they'd taken their first hesitant steps into a relationship together. But right now, he wouldn't change a thing about it, even if he could.

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

Read all the ficlets here: So This Is Christmas

#2019 advent ficlet challenge #johnlock #established relationship #parentlock #sherlock's lucky john doesn't just fall asleep in the tub

[saundraswriting]

Need Some TLC Chapter 5: Groceries

SUMMARY: Steve and Bucky decide to step in for your health and a third conspirator joins the ranks

WARNINGS:None

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You stood looking at your front door for a moment or two before smiling and shaking you head. Glancing around, you noticed that your kitchen was clean, but the living room needed tidying up and the bathroom, your bedroom and laundry needed finished. "No time like the present." You muttered to yourself, deciding the living room would be a good start and quickest, you got to work. You straightened the throw blankets and small pillows and cushions. the knick-knacks were organized and DVD's were put away, in their proper cases. you bagged up all the trash and recycling and moved on to the next room.

Laundry was started once more, the bathroom scrubbed and you changed your sheets in your room. You cleaned up the dirty clothes in your room, both you not scrub hamper and scrub hamper, and gathered the old dishes and long-dismissed wrappers and protein shake bottles. You put away all the laundry in your clean laundry basket and dusted your hands off. "Done! That's it!" You cheered to yourself. You transferred laundry once more and got a few things ready for work and meals for the next few days. The clock read 8:00 PM. You had near 20 hours until you had to go back to work again, and your apartment was clean and safe and welcoming again, not the pigsty it was hours ago.

'Watch a movie? or Settle in early?' You thought to yourself. As you looked between your TV and bedroom door a buzz in your pocket distracted you.

'You still up for a pizza and a documentary? We don't want to impose.'  The text was sent by a known contact with the name "Bucky". You changed it to Sgt. Barnes. You thought about it and after everything that had happened today, the walls that had come down and the fire and finally being off, you realized you wanted company. 'Yeah, I can go to bed once we are done. Won't be too much later than usual.' You thought.

'Yeah. Come on over! Both of you, you have a key.' You texted him back.

"I nor Steve would abuse this privilege. We won't use our keys willy-nilly."Sargent Barnes replied.

'I only meant that you could let yourselves in. I know you won't abuse it. Jeez, didn't mean to offend your delicate sensibilities.' You send your message with a few smiles to not offend.

'I will be no more offended than you when I tell you that we already have pizza and am currently trying to get into your apartment.'  He replied.

 'Confident?'  you texted back.

"Yeah, a little. Can we watch and ocean documentary? With Attenborough? Please?" Sargent Barnes asked pushing his way through the door, keys slipping into his pocket.

"Yeah, I have a Blue Planet on Blu-Ray and with my TV it is almost like being there. Where did you learn to text? Not to bad Sargent." You sassed at him grabbing plates and cups on the counter, Sargent Barnes brought over the pizza while Captain Rogers looked for Blue Planet in your expansive collection.

I love this documentary. I just turned it on this morning when I got home to listen to, but I fell asleep too quick. Also after dinner cause it late-ish and I want to get a good night's rest, I am going to take my sleep aides. Just some melatonin. I want to be ready for my next stretch." You told the men in your living room. Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes looked at you, brows furrowed and lips pursed.

"More meds? Is that a good idea?" Captain Rogers paused loading the first disc.

"Melatonin is naturally produced, I am only boosting my supply a little bit. The Advil will help with the sore legs and back I am sure to get. I want to relax cause I have some aide shifts coming up. I always hurt more after aide shifts." The three of you settled with your pizza and drinks.

"Aide work? What is that?" Sargent Barnes asked.

"Yeah, I am a registered nurse. But my job includes helping the aides-or rather patient care techs as they are called now-but sometimes there are not enough aides scheduled for a shift, usually the evening shift, and I will fill in. Aides or PCT's help with the activities of daily living, toileting and dressing and rehab and bandage changing and the like. I personally like doing both jobs cause it makes me appreciate what they do more and help connect with my patients on a deeper level." You explained. Not many nurses shared you opinion, thinking aides and PCT's were below them, they didn't realize that many programs and curriculums required clinical hours before and during the programs to be accepted. Most aides and PCT's were nurses-in-training.

"Oh. So with the short-staffing you really have to do everything huh? That is insane." Captain Rogers' awe was heard in his tone.

"Nope, When I go in for a nursing shift, I have 26 Patients and my 2-5 aides can have 13-15 patients. Also it builds up aide/nurse loyalty and report. You all know what each others knows and needs to keep track off and become a better team for it, give better care for it. It makes me better and them better." You were firm in your opinion, eyes lit with a determination and fire the men did not often see. They could tell this is a fight you have fought before.

"Does not everyone agree with you? That all makes prefect sense to me and Steve. Why would people not agree?" Bucky asked, hesitant.

"NO! They don't. I have too many aides and nurses come through my unit with this...this...chip on their shoulder. Like they are owed something for picking this job. We all work shitty hours and weekends and holidays. We all miss birthdays and parties and recitals. No one is missed for that, especially in healthcare. I don't get how you can go through schooling and testing and lectures and labs and still come out of this expecting something that you won't get. How can you start this career without knowing what you are getting into? Or staying in this field knowing what it is? You are to help people, They don't want to be here any more than you do. I'm sorry, we get paid well but not that well that the money can overcome the cancelled dates and missed appointments." You were ranting wildly, hands waving and hair flying. Bucky and Steve were in total agreement. They did share a look of confusion and empathy, they were unware of your temper that was hidden under all the pleasantness. You noticed and calmed down significantly. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I was ranting. You can start the show. if you need anything, help yourself." You shimmied down deeper into the couch, eyes blinking blearily at the TV.

"No! it is fine. I like seeing you open up to us. You are in the right. We get it too, not like we have great hours either." Captain Rogers said. You blinked at him and smiled. "If you fall asleep we'll close up for you. Okay?" He said it like a question but you knew it was a statement. The men turned their focus to the documentary and knew that for now, you had lost their attention.

You only paid half attention to the program. The warmth of your blanket and apartment, the relief in having it clean and the silent company of people in a shared space lulled you quickly to a fugue state. Partially formed thoughts swept across your mind but disappeared before they fully formed. Thoughts about your schedule and patients; should you make more meals? The fear of a missed alarm pulled you to awareness enough to check you phone.

Minutes passed. The episode ended. Another one started. You still stare unseeingly into the TV, blinks and breaths slowing and lengthening. The calm narration and soft spoken comments from your friends easing your muscles even more.

You fall asleep between one breath and the next, succumbing to you body's demands with one last thought about packing a lunch for tomorrow.

"Bucky looked over to see you curled up on the couch, quiet and still-pardon your rhythmic breathing. "She's asleep. Finally. I am going to put her to bed in a little bit. She needs to sleep. I looked in her fridge, she didn't have much. What little bit she had, she probably meal-prepped it. She neglects herself too much." Bucky said. He was so worried, over the time of knowing them they'd seen your weight drop and skin pale.

"I don't know. We could order some groceries. Have them delivered using Tony's service? I can handle him afterwards. You can cook like a pro, we can freeze it and meal prep for her." Steve suggested. He saw Bucky's hesitance. He shook his head and sighed. "Buck. Please do it. I know for certain she wants someone who will take care of her, and you want someone to take care of. She has been alone too long. You can change that. I will handle Tony. I told you earlier, do something, do anything. This is both." Steve continued.

Bucky smirked knowingly. "You'll handle Tony alright. You tell me to move but you freeze every time he comes near you." Bucky lost his smirk. "I guess this is something I can do for her." Bucky picked up his phone and put a call into the grocery service that stocked the Avengers' Tower and Compound and their private places. They took calls at all times to accommodate their unusual clients. He ordered tons of meats and veggies, pasta, dairy products, deli things, and junk foods too. He ordered and ordered and ordered. He wanted enough to make enough food for three meals and two snacks for two weeks. He also ordered plastic containers for all the meals and freezer. He billed Tony and gave the address for Your apartment.

"They said in an hour, they pulled everyone together that was available to make it happen so quickly. I am going to put her to bed that way she doesn't wake up. Then we are going to make her food. and a lot of it. Hopefully it will last for two weeks if not it should be a good start." Bucky addressed Steve but was looking at you. Eyes lightly brushed over your figure worried his gaze would wake you.

"Very well. Let's finish what we started. Go, take your girl to bed." Steve waved his hand in the direction of your room, seeing Buck blush out off the corner of his eye.

Bucky didn't-couldn't-answer to busy trying gently to pick you up and carry you to bed. He maneuvered the corners careful to not bump your head or feet. You didn't even twitch as he laid you on your bed under the covers, glad you already seemed to be in pajamas.

Upon returning to the living room Bucky saw Steve hunched over his phone shoulders tense and cheeks pink. Bucky rolled his eyes in silence, for all his advice Steve was just as nervous when it came to one Anthony Edward Stark-Iron Man. "Make a move, punk. Any move. Isn't that what you told me?" Bucky commented from the other end of the couch. Steve refused to give Bucky the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

"I always give good advice, but very seldom follow it. I can't make a move on Tony. That is ridiculous. I will admire from afar, that's all I am allowed this time. Besides Tony isn't impressed by me in any sense." Steve was matter-of-fact in his words, a weariness hung around his shoulders.

"Then you are dumber than advertised. Tony is in love with you as you are in love with him. Just do something." With that Bucky left Steve to stew and played the documentary once more. Bucky watched and Steve split his attention between the TV and his phone for the next 45 minutes.

When a light knock sounded on the newly replaced door, Bucky and Steve went on alert. They silently paced to the door, avoided casting a shadow underneath. Bucky pulled a knife from his boot and Steve shook his hands before clenching them into fists. Anyone who wanted to get through to you would have to go through them.

"Delivery for Stark? Grocery delivery." Bucky looked at Steve and shrugged. They could take anyone. Bucky opened the door for the three men that had dollies full of groceries. And Tony Stark.

"Tony? What are you doing here?" Bucky asked while he and Steve moved to help unload the bags. After the dollies were emptied twice each then men bid their goodbyes and left.

"Well you did just bill me almost 500 dollars worth of groceries not 3 days after your last order. Steve told me it was for a friend, and I became intrigued." Tony spoke to Bucky but his eye kept flicking to Steve every other word.

"Her name is Y/N. She is a nurse. Lately she has been putting in too many hours. She is...amazing. She checks in and bakes for us sometimes. She constantly is working on bringing us up to date." Steve said, soft and fond. "We spend a lot of time with her when we are home. She understands what we do and likes us in spite of that. She is family." Tony froze upon hearing Steve talk about you so warmly. The fondness he had for you froze Tony's breath in his chest. He saw the ease in which Bucky and Steve moved through your apartment, Tony almost flinched but withheld. Bucky saw the hopelessness on his face and stepped closer.

"Tony. No. Please." Bucky murmured in his ear. Speaking louder he continued. "Y/N came home today and we hear her talking through the wall about sleep aides and next thing we know the fire alarm is going off and we had to break down her door cause she was sleeping through it. After fixing it and making lunch and her napping, I was griping at Steve who was teasing me, so I ordered this to help her. I wanted to take care of her, cause she doesn't take care of herself." Bucky had seen the thoughts forming in Tony's mind that you were Steve's girl leaving no room for Tony in Steve's heart. Bucky knew those thoughts had to be derailed instantly.

"Yeah, she is our only non-Avenger friend. She is alone and needed someone in her life. Today proved that. I am just glad we were home. I worry about her day and night. She works too much and to the point of illness. I gave her a key today so she had a place to go since she denied having F.R.I.D.A.Y. installed in here. It was the only way she would accept help, she refuses to burden others with her needs." Bucky continued. He could tell as Tony's shoulder relaxed and smiled softened he was successful in his mission.

Steve and Bucky moved about this stranger's apartment like they lived there themselves. Steve was putting groceries away as Bucky began to trim chicken to be frozen. It was strange, seeing these two giant men creep around your things to not disturb you, trying to do what they could to help what little family they had. "Steve can you grab the skillet? and grill pan? I will cook up some burgers and chicken and freeze them to be quicker meals." Bucky asked.

"Here and here. I am working on scalloped potatoes, they should freeze well. I will work on some salad mixes too. We can vacuum seal them to keep longer." Steve said, handing over the pans while looking for the peeler. Tony felt out of the loop but wanted to help this person who had helped his people.

"Does she have a steamer? I can help with steaming some veggies. We can make and freeze whole meals." Tony offered. Bucky looked up and smiled, thankfulness shining in his eyes. Bucky nodded and jerked his chin to a pantry. Tony went and set it up and began cleaning fruit and veggies. "I can make some fruit salad, won't keep well but I can make a small batch. We would look at high protein meals with low carbs and sugar. She is a nurse? She needed long term energy. We can freeze some fruit like pineapple and blueberries and grapes. They taste good frozen. she can snack on them too." Tony suggested. Bucky nodded emphatically. "You are right, Tony, snack are a great idea." Bucky's tension seemed to lessen with Tony's participation.

Tony picked up his phone and made a quick call, putting it down quickly. "I just called in another rush order. If we are going to do this, then we will do this right." Tony started working on cauliflower and broccoli.

"Tony, no. This isn't necessa-" Bucky started. Tony cut him off before he could finish "If she is your family, she is mine. I am more than glad to help." Bucky other took a quick breath and sent a small smile Tony's way. "Quick, we need to keep moving. I want this done before she wakes up." Bucky said.

The three men did just that. Bucky cooked chicken, burger, steak, pork, sausage. He froze it raw and froze it cooked. Bucky dated and labeled everything, even using up what little was in your freezer already. Steve made several casseroles to be frozen and labeled. Tony made his veggies and fruits and snacks and divided them up for easy access. He did freeze some bags with directions for smoothies, for the days when food would be too much effort.  They also kept some food in the fridge for easy grab and go for the next five days, hopefully they made enough food for her.

"Thank you both. I am glad she will wake up to see that this was done for her. She may just come to understand that she is cared for. Let's clean up and then we can hit the hay." He clapped Steve on his back and pulled Tony in for a hug. "Thank you especially Tony. For everything. Oh, and, remember he has loved and lost one already." Bucky pulled away, nothing on his face giving away what he had shared. Bucky looked around and saw your lunchbox and packed a well-balanced lunch and then some before scrawling a quick note and putting it on the fridge. 'We did as you asked and made ourselves at home. Steve, Tony and I took care of lunches for you and groceries. Everything is dated and labeled. If you have questions, call me. See you soon. ~xo Bucky.'

He then helped clean up their mess and shooed Steve and Tony out the door. Bucky made one last lap to ensure everything was off, cleaned and put away. He walked down towards your room and paused, fingers brushing the doorknob. "Go in, chicken." Bucky demanded himself. He crept in and watched you sleep for a small moment. Gathering his courage, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and again on your forehead. "Good night, my darling. Rest well." He whispered against your skin. He left your room. He left your apartment. He used his key to double check the lock.

Bucky headed to his room and laid down, ignoring Tony and Steve's smug looks. Bucky listened to you faint breathing as he relaxed. Minutes later he was asleep.

Masterlist // Previous // Next

******************************************************************************************* Okay! That is the last update I have ready. Now, I actually have to type everything out. This is going to be fun! I have a Criminal Minds fic that I also have to post on here but should I have it typed out? It is awfully long...I will ruminate on this. Thanks for the support!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #protective Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x nurse! reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x medical! reader #Steve Rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x tony stark #steve rogers fanfiction #Stony #avengers family #domestic avengers #saundraswriting #saundrasays #Need Some TLC fic

[namjoonchronicles]

outnumbered | th

↳  pairing taehyung x you ↳  genre fluff, slice of life, domestic, husband-Taehyung amen ↳  words 6k ↳  summary raising five kids with a full-time job is a challenge. thankfully, Taehyung agreed to be a full-time house husband. but the matriarch family aren’t usually appreciated. Especially, when the women earns for the house.  ↳ note Taehyung have 5 kids, they’re : Renee (7), Noah & Niel (5), Tati (3) and the youngest, Sam (3 months old) ↳ song lieuwe roonder ‘let me love you’

Taehyung begins his duties at 4am everyday. Around this hour, the youngest will be fed with her formula milk, freshly warmed and perfect for the morning. Taehyung’s large feet slip into mismatched indoor slippers, sitting at the side of the bed and he’d turn off the night lamp from his side. He routinely take your phone and plug it to the charger while you stay asleep.

For Taehyung, the day begins early. And he usually started with pouring the grinded coffee beans into the coffee machine, and lets them boil in time while he disappears to the laundry room with your blouse for ironing. He stifled a yawn, gliding the iron to smoothen creases on the semi-crumple light pink long sleeves.  What is that colored blob? He leans in to see closer. But without his glasses, he wasn’t able to make sense of what it was, so he sniffed it.

Milk? Coffee? Milk coffee?

Taehyung’s eyes darted to the top left of the ceiling after setting away the iron from the board, to prevent it from burning like the last time. How many time do I have to tell her not to stain her clothes? This is twice this month.

He didn’t waste time to pick another maroon flowy blouse with a black pencil skirt for you to wear to work today. This one needs a steam iron because its made of satin silk. He was saving this particular blouse for friday night, but he had no choice.

The coffee machine readily brews and began to expel its liquid into the coffee jar right underneath it. Taehyung dashes pass it with your ironed cloth on a hanger. It hooks securely around the edge of the wardrobe—out of reach of children.

He looks at the time. 5:15AM. Next, laundry. He collects heaps of clothes set next to each door and into the large basket he held close to his waist.

The baby begins to cry. You frowned in your sleep, but as you try to reach your phone, it wasn’t there. You lay face down, grabbing nothing on the side table. Not a minute later, you heard Taehyung shushing her quiet.

“Daddy’s got you… shush, mummy’s sleeping…” Taehyung rocks Sam side to side, while attacking with smooches around her face. Barely 10 months old, Sam is already gurgling audible words. Taehyung predicts that she’ll start walking before she turns two. Sam’s eyes is wide open and Taehyung knows she won’t be able to be put to bed again.

Sam is going to cling on him like a baby koala. Not that he minds. Taehyung is now fixing the water bath warm enough for a shower. As it fills up, Taehyung lunges down the hall in fast steps to knock on the eldest door. “Renee? Renee… wake up, school time…” he turns the knob to find Renee stirring in her single bed and kissed the top of her head. The fourth child fell asleep on the floor next to Renee’s books.

“How did Tati end up on the floor, Renee?” Taehyung asked in hushes. He had to put Sam down to carry Tati back up into her bed as Renee waddles with her blue towel draped over one shoulder. Her eyes drooping sleepily. Taehyung collected Sam again and walked out.

He poked his head into the fridge after placing Sam on the baby chair to take out three overnight oatmeals and milk. Taehyung passed the baby chair to jog down the other end of the hall to wake the twins, Noah and Niel. Renee is out of the bathroom now, and she is dressing herself up. She’s 7 and just started school.

“Dad! Where’s my nametag?” She yelled. “Check your pocket!” Taehyung retorted, before knocking twice on the boys’ door. Before he turns the knob, he inhaled deeply as if he’s about to unleash the beast. In this case, two beasts.

“Boys, good morning…” he sang. “Daddy I can’t find my nametag…” Renee whined at the door in her school uniform. “Okay, I’ll go find it, but can you have breakfast while you wait?” Taehyung said in a hurry. Noah had stood up in the middle of his bed and Niel won’t move.

“Alright…”

Tati had began crying very loudly.

“Also, sweetheart can you go wake mummy up? She’s going to be late,” Taehyung kneels next to Niel, and shaking his shoulder to wake him. He’s sleeping like a log. Only 5 years old, but sleeps more than Uncle Yoongi does.

Renee disappears. But now Tati started whimpering, while hugging Taehyung’s arm. Noah is now pulling down his pants with his dingles dangling, saying he wants to pee. Taehyung sprints to grab Noah from the bed, and into the bathroom. But he didn’t make it to the potty. Noah peed on the floor.

Tati’s crying intensifies because she fell back when Taehyung carried Noah. Niel threw her a plushie in an attempt to quiet her down.

“Daddy!” She shrieked, “Niel threw me bear-bear…” “Niel, don’t throw Tati the bear-bear… what did daddy tell you about that,” Taehyung is cleaning Noah up.

“Daddy where is the socks?” Renee asked. Noah is groaning while Niel is throwing a tantrum in his bed.

“Noah, Niel, you are going to be late. Where is Tati’s pacifier? Who took Tati’s pacifier?” Taehyung wipes Noah’s face with his own shirt before patting Niel’s bottom to hurry him.

“Noah! Niel!” You roared from across the hall. The boys straightens up and waddled to your room.

“How many times do I have to tell you that when dad had the baths ready, you have to wake up when he asked you to?” Hand on hip and the two tattle to the bathroom and showered.

Taehyung carries Tati around his waist now. He passes you a mug of coffee. Tati stopped crying immediately. “Dad! My nametag!” Renee yelled. Taehyung tipped his head back and you patted his chest twice, “I got it, watch the boys…” and then, “Coming baby. Mommy is coming!”

“No I want daddy…”

You stopped in your steps and spun your heel around, “Guess not…”

Taehyung hands Tati to you and you watched the boys brush their teeth, before he disappears into the hallway to help Renee. “Do you really need that nametag?” Taehyung whined.

“Even mom and dad don’t remember my name sometimes.”

The boys is now dressed in their pre-school uniforms and climbing on the tall stool for their breakfast. Sam had dunk her whole hand inside the bowl of oat meant for Noah. And Noah screams.

“Sam put her hand inside my food!” “Sam don’t put your hand in Niel’s food…” “I’m Noah!” “I’m not Niel!”

“And I will be late,” You buttoned up your blouse and zipped your pencil skirt.

Taehyung finally sat Tati down, wiped Sam’s oat covered hand with a wet cloth. “Can you fetch Renee? Didn’t you get half day off? The boys has parents teachers meeting we need to attend…” He glances at you repeatedly, while reminding Renee to wipe her mouth before she leaves with you.

“I really can’t. I’m swamped today… can’t you be late for the meeting to fetch Renee? Just bring Renee along…” “Renee has piano lessons today…” “Oh shoot, I forgot.”

“We need to do laundries tonight. It’s still on right?” Taehyung held the door open while Renee, Noah, Neil and you wore shoes and scattered out the door. “Yeah definitely,” you stood on tiptoes and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Please, for the love of God, be home before 6pm,” he eyed you, lips parted a little.

“Remember to get the rice cake order for grandma’s memorial ceremony!” Taehyung yelled, followed by, “Be good at school, all three of you!”

Taehyung turns to Tati and Sam. Both too young to go to school, still in their PJs.

“Guess there’s just us, girls.”

And then he heard it. The beeping. The semi silent ringing. He dashed to the messy bedroom to see the phone blinking. Your phone.

“Damn it.”

Extra diapers. Some edibles. Some toys to pass time. It didn’t take long for Taehyung to pack Tati’s backpack.

“When we get to mummy’s office, you have to promise me you don’t run around, and behave okay?” Taehyung knelt next to the bag. Tati leans her tiny body on Taehyung’s arm. Sam is gurgling on the sofa on her back.

“Why are we going to mummy’s office?” “Mummy forgot her phone. She needs it so we could call her later in the evening.”

It gets really hard. He’s not going to lie. Having five children isn’t a walk in the park. More like running through it. Raising children is not a one person job. It could feel like 15, and at the end of the month there’s always a constant worry if the expenses will be enough until the next payday. There’s two diaper packs that needed to be bought, and school items, school trips, and fees. Uniforms, extra lessons. Having a family means having a lot. Before you even decide to have this home with him, he already had trouble convincing you to have children. Everybody knows how eager Taehyung is about having a large family, and to be honest with you, sometimes you feel like marrying a complete stranger when it comes to things like this.

Sometimes, he felt like marrying a stranger. At one point, your goals and destination seems different from one another because you were still a career-oriented girl with determination of a first year worker, but at the same time you are also mom to five, and sometimes, Taehyung demanded your presence in the home you built together. Having children also means less time together. Which leaves little room for communication. You’d be home, far too tired for a conversation, and he’d be piled with domestic demands and tasks. You try to help, you do, but most of the time you are at work and there are moments that you don’t get to see your children for days.But you are determined not to leave room for doubts when it comes to Taehyung and your priorities. It was a lengthy shift from your golden university aspirations, but you can’t imagine a life without Taehyung. And now, the five children.

Fingernail tap on the marble desk coming from a pair of large hands. The concierge occupant lift her gaze to see a friendly boxy smile. She intuitively tuck her hair behind her ear helix.

“I’m not sure if you remember,” Taehyung shyly greeted her. “Yes! Yes, Mr. Kim… Mrs. Kim’s husband, it’s been awhile, I’ll let you up. Here’s your passcard,” she bowed once and Tati waved enthusiastically back at her. So cheerful.

“You’re adorable…Is this the little one?” the receptionist let out a bashful smile. “No, this one is. This one is Sam,” Taehyung turns to show the gurgling bundle of joy, strapped on his back. Taehyung lets out a proud smile as he took the passcard.

Tati reaches for her dad’s hand but wrapped her little finger only around his pinkie. Sam falls to a sleepy riddle. “Earlier, Mrs. Kim was in a meeting. I’m not sure if it has ended or not, but do help yourself around…” the receptionist smiled politely, guiding Taehyung down the elevator hallway and pressed the button going up. Then she leaves him be.

Taehyung felt rather giddy going back here after awhile. The last time he came, he made quite an impression for singing live with his honeyed deep voice that leaves the audience awed. The last time he came, he was a vocal coach with a five figure earnings, a good sports car and a collection of Van Gogh arts. Last time he came, there was no Renee, Noah, Niel, Tati or Sam. That was close to ten years ago. This is where he met his wife, you.

He’s not going to lie. He sometimes ponder on how life would be if he didn’t fall for you that night. Maybe sitting in his expensive penthouse, in a king sized bed, filled with loneliness, of a longing for someone he had never met, wondering if she was still out there. He let go of his job, so you could have yours.

Tati tugs his sleeves, looking up at him through her thick lashes. “Daddy, I need to go potty,” she murmured cutely. Tati had recently been toilet-trained so she was told to tell someone if she needs to go to the toilet. Taehyung gulped down the whole plastic cup of drinking water at once, in a hurry, because he knows that if he dragged time, she’d might pee there and then. There’s only one problem.

The male restroom doesn’t have toilet bowl meant for kids like the females. Taehyung dashed through the automated door and carried Tati into the first cubicle. Sam is snoozing on her father’s back, soundly. Her finger stretches as she accommodates the sudden movement, but resumes sleeping. Taehyung heard the next door cubicle was being flushed, and then another.

“Did you hear about our head technician and our company lawyer?” this man had a higher voice tone, with a slight southern twang at the end of his words, suggesting a heavy Gwangju accent.

Taehyung then heard your name. “With Min Yoongi? The lawyer?” Another man replied, the automated wash basin washing water down their palms when it detects hands. This one had a clearer set of pronunciation. Fit for a news anchor, with the way he spoke.

“Nah, with our leading advocate, solicitor, and P.A.; Park Jimin,” the one with Gwangju accent replied, “Turns out that the company’s recent soliciting isn’t the only soliciting he does.” “What do you mean?” “Rumors had it that they’re a thing. Last month, when the company vault had an audit check, Jimin promptly said the auditing for May was in his team, when it wasn’t. Now why would he do that if he doesn’t have a thing for her?” Slight pause, “...Someone caught them dating in the car last Tuesday. All laughing and giggling… it was very scandalous.” “Isn’t she married?” “I know right… I don’t think her husband knows.” “Why would she do such a thing…”

That’s right. Why would you do such a thing.

“Daddy--” Tati spoke but Taehyung covered her mouth immediately, waiting for the two men to leave. After putting Tati into her briefs, Taehyung walked back out with her. His mind flashes into the conversations he had caught you in, oftenly, middle of the night when everyone was asleep.

“I just want to say thank you for today, it was really nice to have someone to lean on when things go south,” he heard you sigh into the phone by the window, away from bed. You must have thought he was asleep.

“I really enjoyed it, I do… too much,in fact,” you swept your untied hair back, and looked up to the window pane, drawing random shapes on the fogged window.

All these while, he thought it was a girl. All these while he thought it was your best friend from college. He never once questioned your loyalty, ever.

And when he left that restroom, he saw his doubts in action.

You were walking down the crisp hallway, fiddling with a file in your chest, smiling far too widely even for a friend, to that man with glasses. It was very unsettling. The conversation you had with him.

“I wouldn’t know what to do, if it weren’t for you…” you let out a breathy giggle. “You don’t have to worry about that. I got you, I always do. That’s my job,” this man passed.

“You should break me in half the next time too. I’d appreciate that.” “Don’t mind if I do.”

Taehyung waited until you both disappeared into the staff’s pantry. Then he took Tati out from hiding and she innocently asked, “Why didn’t we talk to mom?”

“We came to surprise her, didn’t we?” Taehyung blurted with a broken smile, and rubbed her hair, “Got to fix your ponytail so you’ll look neat for mommy. How does daddy look? Do I look handsome?”

She nodded enthusiastically. She doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t understand anything.

And in that brief moment, Taehyung resented you. Not because you gave him room for doubts, but because you allowed someone else to come in between. Your actions are selfish. Spiteful.

“Go knock on mommy’s glass door…” Taehyung urged Tati and she did with a huge toothy grin.

“Come in…” your voice was clipped and full of authority. The one Taehyung remembers whenever he calls you at work, or in bed, several years ago before Sam came.

Taehyung helped Tati pushed the door open and you gasped pleasantly so loud, pushing your chair back and knelt before she even get into your open arms, greeting you with a huge hug. “My babies!” you closed your arm around her and carried her up to one side of your waist, before stretching towards Taehyung to have him leaning over for a smooch but he settled for a brush on your cheeks instead. You ruffled Sam’s hair too. Precious.

“I didn’t expect this!” You giggled, and Taehyung pulled your phone out of his back pocket and you replied a disgruntled, ”Oh.”

“Can we talk for a bit?” Taehyung asked in a deep tone. Tati cupped her hand to whisper in your ear. She asked if she can lay down on the couch there. You simply nodded to Taehyung but only after you excitedly answer Tati’s question. “Of course, baby girl, you can sit, and you can lie down, just promise not to stand on it because you could fall and hurt yourself, okay?” You set her feet on the floor and brushed your lips on her forehead so it’s now smushed with red lipstick.

Red lips always lie.

“Is it about school? Renee’s? The boys?”

Taehyung shook his head.

“Do I need to call someone to watch over the kids?”

“You know what. I came to give you the phone and I did. So I think I should head back soon,” Taehyung looks at the wall clock, “Noah and Niel are coming home soon and I hadn’t cooked anything.”

Then he felt your hand around his forearms, giving an assuring squeeze. “But you just got here, can’t you stay for a little while?”

Do you even want me here? Are you just playing the good wife because your cover was almost blown? Where has he touched you? Where have you let his hands go? Because that breathy laughter was reserved for me. And only me.

“Just a little while,” Taehyung felt his heart softened while his head hardens. A part of him felt disappointed that he let you win. Another part of him wanted to be the man that is still foolishly in love with you and another, wanted to walk away because the reap wasn’t as much as he sow. If only things were that simple. If it wasn’t for these kids, he would have gone rampage the moment he found out. How could he catch on the signs? He was too busy running the household. Busy wiping pees, cleaning poops, ironing clothes, getting food ready--he could not have noticed the telling signs of you cheating.

You spent more time here at work than you ever did at home. How could he be so stupid?

He was in love…. Love makes people stupid.

So he sat there, Sam sleeping on her side and her blankets draped over her to accommodate the indoor aircon temperature while Tati had slept on Taehyung’s lap, having her dad fluffing her hair to make her sleepy--he sat there watching you take calls, the length of the pen in between your lips, eyes focused, hands flipping over the pages of endless accounts. Your job is to keep the supplies going for months. Every product delivery and the materials to create them were under your supervisions, a stressful job that was slightly different than the ones you had when you were in the industry, working there.

In short, you have to plan two months supply ahead for fast-moving items to meet demands. Knowing so many people depend on your efficiency gives you slight anxiety that you were still taking pills for. Taehyung knows that much.

“Baby, are you stressed?” his sudden question didn’t stir you much, you were too occupied with work to bother too much about it. “Same old-same old, sweetheart… why? Is there something you’d like to talk about?” you murmured, switching your attention on the left page of the reports for last week delivery numbers to help predict the next month’s consumption.

“Just asking…” “I hope we can have lunch together, I wanted to eat with the kids.”

Taehyung felt an incoming ‘but’. But he was intruded, before it could come.

Jimin walks in. Yes, Taehyung knows about Jimin. He is your personal assistant for a year now since the last one resigned because she was starting a family. At first, Taehyung didn’t pay attention to it, but now that he had doubts; every single glance, words, and touches exchanged between you and Jimin had become breadcrumbs.

With a sleek blonde hair, pushed back, Jimin wore a classy baby blue dress shirt, paired with black trousers too tight for Taehyung’s comfort. He wears full-rimmed glasses but today, had them folded and tuck in his breast pocket when he came to see you.

“You called for me?” Raspy, light toned, polite and mesmerizing voice. He bowed his head slightly at the sight Taehyung and smiled fondly to the sleeping toddlers.

“I did,” you paused while pulling out a file from the stack, “I don’t recall agreeing on this design for the Summer packaging, and this particular bubble wrap supplier, we’ve worked with in the past, they’re very late in completing orders, I just don’t understand why I have to approve something I didn’t agree on--the last time I checked,” you tipped your eyes up and Jimin leans down closer, both of your faces are merely inches away from each other. You pointed the said company on the invoice paper and showed Jimin. Jimin squeezes his eyes and lowered his head to see better. That’s what the glasses are for, Taehyung pushes his tongue against the insides of his cheek, watching an absolute horror unfold before his eyes.

“Yes, yes… I remember that too,” Jimin softly whispered. It was almost as if Taehyung is morphed into witnessing a pillowtalk, “Here’s what we do, I’m going to double check with the secretary and make sure that we have updated the new list of companies that we are satisfied working with; I’ll make sure to email you, no later than…” he drags, and looked at his Rolex wrist watch that looked very similar to the ones you got for Taehyung on his birthday last year, brown straps, “...3pm.”

“Thanks, Jimin...what would I do without you,” you breathlessly say and Jimin gave you a charming smile that turned his eyes into crescents. “No problem,” Jimin tipped his head in your direction and excused himself with a polite expression at Taehyung, his boss’s husband. “I thought we’re going to talk?” Taehyung stuck his gaze on his knees, raising both of his eyebrows, his thumb picking on the threads of his worn out jeans.

You noticed the sudden change of tone but decided not to dwell on it. “Can it wait? Is it important?” The way it leaves your lips, was so tactless and when you realised how insensitive it was, it was already too late.

“I don’t know. Is our marriage important?”

You shut the door leading to the sky garden after Taehyung set his hands on the metal rails, over-looking down the metropolitan city. The high-rise building, the blue cloudless sky, the strong wind striking every once in a while, the car honks from the streets down below.

“Taehyung, what’s this about?” with the silence growing, you became impatient. Taehyung drops his head, his arms stretched along the handrails with a heavy huff and the droop of his shoulders.

“You built everything from the ashes… this building we stood on. From scrapes. It’s funny when you think about the very beginning at the first hint of an,” end. Taehyung didn’t finish his sentence. “This is all very lovely, and heart-warming,” you clicked your tongue and looks at your wrist watch, “But we could do this conversation inside...I thought it was something serious, because you mentioned marriage and stuff.” “It is about marriage,” Taehyung spun around to face you, “You--”

Your phone rang, and you answered it, “Yes I am aware of the conference call, I will be there on time, Jimin. Thank you for the reminder.” Much to Taehyung’s dismay. Taehyung’s jaw hung, in disbelief. He scoffs.

“Look at you!” he stresses, “You don’t have time being a mother, let alone a wife! Your work is consuming you. Not only that, you spend more time here than you ever do at home…! You speak to Jimin more than we do in a week!” He slows down, only to continue, “It was Tati’s birthday last week and you didn’t even show up or get her a present. I bought one for her and told her that it was from you.... And she was so happy…” he shook his head, a broken smile on his lips.

You were stunned. You were unable to utter a word. So you begin with a whisper of his name, “Taehyung…”

He turns away from you, his hand on his hip and he darted his eyes to the front before shutting them. Disappointed, unloved and possibly unheard.

“Everytime I say I need you home, you say you’re at the office and you will be late. All I want to know is, is it really work? Or is there more?” “What are you talking about…” “I’m talking about why Jimin is calling you out of office hours? And why do I find his tie in your bag? Why does he have the same wrist watch I have? Are you cheating on me?” “No. I wouldn’t!” “So you would have, if you didn’t have 5 kids with me? Is that it?” “Stop twisting my words… Jimin is my coworker and he helped me purchase that wrist watch for you. I went to team dinner with him, I told you that!”

Taehyung turns to face you and your brimming eyes, he leans his mouth next to your ear and growled, “Well coworkers don’t sit in the car together, after midnight...you thought I didn’t see that?” Taehyung leaves the sky garden with a hard gaze, piercing through Jimin’s entire body when he found the poor assistant standing right beside the entrance door to the sky garden. Taehyung was a master at disguising his emotions. Especially in front of his children.

“I’ll see myself out, thank you,” Taehyung carried Sam and Tati with ease. When Tati asked why she can’t say goodbye, Taehyung said, her mom is in a meeting. It was an obvious lie and Jimin heard it all.

You were still there. Still standing at the same spot Taehyung left you in. Still there, processing everything that had been said. Jimin’s heavy footsteps didn’t shake away your worry one bit, like it used to. You clutched your phone shakily, and pressed them against your lips, eyes darted forward at the sky. And you heard the door open, but you wave them away, whoever it might be. Not even turning to face them.

Jimin nodded once, “I’ll tell them you’ll be in ten minutes.”

Instead of heading back to the office, Jimin hid in the bathroom for employees. He laced his fingers together and leaned his forehead on them, sitting on the toilet cover, knees widespread. He bit his lips and half-shook his head.

You returned home before 6pm that day. The house is in a mess. For the first time in a long time, you arranged your heels neatly on the racks. The kids have had their dinner early. And there are three large baskets for laundry, arranged in a line by the wall. You took time to notice all the finer details of your beloved home, the one you build with Taehyung. Picture frames after picture frames greeted you. Of when Renee turned 2, then 3, then 4… and how you gradually disappear through the years. You couldn’t ignore the pain in your heart when you heard Taehyung’s voice in the distance.

“Okay, everybody out the tub!” Taehyung commanded, “Look at your fingers all wrinkled! We have to get out now, or you’ll age!” “Dad is lying!” Noah and Niel are very giggly and it struck you that you’ve never given bath to the kids ever since they could start to walk.. Sam had never been bathe by you since you started working, and you relied heavily on Taehyung.

“Oh noona! You’re home,” Jungkook bowed at you. Jungkook lives next door and frequently helped with babysitting the kids whenever he is needed. Laundry every 3 days and he’ll come and does his duties without being prompted. Once he resumes his college, you will have to find a new replacement and you hadn’t spoke about this with Taehyung yet. There’s a lot of things that needed discussions, and there’s so little time in a day. 

Blinking the tears away, you turned your attentions to the halls where Taehyung is carrying both of the boys in each arm, wrapped in towels. Taehyung caught your eyes but didn’t reciprocate the sadness. It’s like the conversation never happened, but with the way he was ignoring you, you were once again reminded that it did.

“Do you want to change first or what…” your husband took your purse but avoided your eyes entirely. “I’ll change,” you breathed.

Taehyung nods once. “Alright, Jungkook. The baby is in the crib there, Tati is colouring in the room while Renee is doing her homework.. There’s chopped fruit cubes in the fridge in case they get hungry, and there’s extra bottles of milk for the youngest. The boys have eaten no matter how much they try to fool you, don’t fall for it..understand?”

You could still hear Taehyung from the halls and it was amazing how he had everything sorted, alone. The bed is still neat, and none of the children were allowed on it, because it was mum and dad’s special place. Toys are in the basket, the diapers are arranged, along with the baby clothes, and it was easy to look past all these detail and you hated yourself for not being able to see this before.

Jungkook helped carry the baskets down with Taehyung and before your husband could make his way to the driver seat, you stopped him. Your eyes pleaded him with words you couldn’t say, when Jungkook is still here, fooling with the kids. Taehyung moves away, wordlessly and planted a kiss on each of the kids’ hair that manages to follow Jungkook down the apartment into the parking lot.

In the car, Taehyung rested his elbow on the car door, his long index finger rubbing the skin on top of his upper lip, his eyes lasering to the view outside the moving car. There’s only the music from the radio playing. Your heart is beating very fast, your eyes were drying from the way you were making them stay open. He’s right next to you, but you don’t feel him there. Is he even breathing? You want nothing more than to reach for him, tell him that you love him and how it doesn’t change, but it feels like you’re already too late. You don’t want to carry on like nothing is wrong. You want to save what you have left.

Taehyung was biting the insides of his cheeks, replaying the scene from this morning in repeat. He was angry, sad, upset, jealous--and he isn’t sure where to put his feelings. He doesn’t speak because all the talking had been done. You weren’t speaking either, but what was those eyes for? The way you’re looking at him. Is it a plea for him to stay? Why would you think he was going anywhere? The accusations are true, isn’t it? That’s why it scared you. Taehyung was eating his feelings.

He loads the laundry. No words exchanged. You insert the coins while he collects the empty basket, and stack them, one after the other. He took one bench and you took the seat right next to him. In between you both, on the floor, are the baskets you came with, empty. All its content in three different machines. Taehyung leans his head back. He wore a grey hoodie underneath a red plaid jacket. His brown fringes cover his brows, as he pushed his tongue against the insides of his cheek. You sat up straight, at the edge of the bench, knees pointed to the side where he is, hands in your lap, clasped and unclasping.

“...I want to tell you that everything you heard isn’t true,” you started. Taehyung nodded away, but in a careless way, as if he didn’t believe a thing you said. “It’s not just about what I heard. It’s what I see. With my own two eyes. It leaves me wondering what else you’ve been doing behind my back…” Taehyung crosses his arms. “Nothing, sweetie…” you emphasized, “I do my work, and nothing else.”

“Listen,” you moved closer to him but he repelled, “I realised that we haven’t been spending time together and that’s horrible of me. I hadn’t been treating you well but I want to, starting now. I just need to know that you still want this.”

Taehyung’s guard starts to wane. His arms fall to each side and he sat on the edge, clutching his fingers on the brim of the bench, underneath him. He chews his lower lip, feeling anxious to tell you what he had been feeling.

“I do. But, do you?” he pauses, and then, “When you come home from work, you don’t even look at me. You fall right to sleep when I begin talking to you in bed. Your answers are brief, and our only conversations are about diapers or house errands.”

There are nights that he wants you so much but couldn’t find it in him to ask for you. He would watch you sleep and before he could register those images in his head, another kid goes crying. You may have your company to worry about, and he only has you. Waiting for you to come home, to ask you about your day, to take care of your needs--whatever it might be. And it’s easy to forget, that he needs you too. Emotionally, sexually.

Do you ever look at the end, and wondered about the beginning? To how it all began, to what was there before the blizzards come and swept away everything?

Taehyung is your partner, in sickness and in health. There are so many things that you’ve been through, together. The house that you live in, it wasn’t painted and had a lot of holes. The walls needed remodelling, and when the remodelling happens, they needed to be painted over. And he’s the one helping you to reach the top corners that you couldn’t. You both have sat on that floor, where the couches are now, talking about the dreams you wanted to have together. You rested your head on his shoulder, while leaning back on the wall, a mug of hot chocolate between your hands. His eyes sparkles at the thought of having children run around this house. Picture frames began to decorate the walls, couch was brought in, rugs, curtains were hung, television set, coffee table, dining table, dining table chairs, kitchen appliances. And slowly, the house was filled.

If loyalty was put to the test, Taehyung would have passed with flying colors.

A whiff of the detergent begins to fill the corners of the laundromat, and you slowly reached for his veiny arms, sliding down his wrist. You took those hand into both of yours, and pressed your lips on each knuckle, murmuring, “I’m so thankful to have you.”

Taehyung’s gaze softens at the sight of you, and he covered your hands with his own, squaring his shoulder at you, so you sit face to face with each other.

“Please tell me how I can make this better,” you looked at him with eyes brimming with tears, and the moment he saw it, he gathers your head into his chest, cradling them gently. Gradually, the simple hand holding turns into an embrace. “Spend more time at home, with me...and do what lovers do,” Taehyung’s eyes turn into crescents, his lips puckered. He comforted you with a kiss on the forehead.

“And I want that Jimin fired,” Taehyung darted. “I’ll keep my distance from him,” you persuaded.

“Deal.” Deal.

The trip to the laundry, was even more fulfilling than the nights before. Romance are rekindled and words are exchanged for the better. Communication is key.

#outnumbered | th #outnumbered #kth #kim taehyung #taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung ff #taehyung fics #husband au #dad au #bangtan fics #bangtan fanfic #bangtan ff #bts v #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #taehyung imagines #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #reader insert #v x reader #angst #bts angst #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #bangtan boys #beyond the scene fics #beyond the scenes fanfic

[sambergscott]

queen of clean

actually managed to finish an entire fic!!! and i don’t completely hate it!!! what is this wizardry

Jake Peralta is an inherently messy person.

When he was a kid, his bedroom was a mess. His mom was always too busy working and dealing with the side effects of marrying a selfish, drunken slut to care and as a result, he never cleaned it up. When he finally got his own place, his bad childhood habits stuck. Clothes lived on the floor, dishes were never washed, shelves and drawers and cupboards accumulated clutter. He wasn’t any better at work; Holt once compared his locker to a Philippine garbage dump and Algernon the mouse was a frequent guest at Hotel Peralta, located in his desk drawer.

In a weird twist of fate, he ended up marrying Amy Santiago - the Queen of Clean.

Moving in with her was amazing and he’d never been happier, but it had also been a sharp learning curve. He was suddenly making his bed every morning (even though he just messed it up again every night #pointless), washing dishes after every meal and she helped him declutter Marie Kondo stylez. She has made him a better person in every way.

Unfortunately, with their jobs, they often work crazy long hours and bad habits sometimes creep back in.

Amy’s away and he’s been pulling double shifts all week and when he gets home all he wants to do is order Chinese food, Facetime his wife and fall asleep on the sofa in front of Property Brothers. Tiredness, missing Amy and being an inherently messy person are not conducive factors to a tidy, clean home. And, of course, he doesn’t realise just how bad he’s let it get until two hours before she comes home.

And it’s really bad. Even for his standards.

The laundry basket is overflowing. The bed has not been made all week. The kitchen is... Actually, he doesn’t even want to think about what state the kitchen is in. Talk about a Philippine garbage dump.

If Amy came home to this, she would flip. And probably immediately start cleaning it up. After a stressful week helping out her dad post- knee surgery and the always anxiety-inducing affair of travelling on her own, the least she deserves is food, cuddles and to come home to a clean apartment.

He changes into more comfortable clothes, switches on Lover and retrieves Amy’s cleaning kit from underneath the sink.

He starts with their bedroom and making their bed. He pulls the sheets over, smooths them out with his hand and styles with the decorative pillows Amy loves. It doesn’t look as neat as when they do it together, but it’s fine. It’ll do. He picks up his excess socks from all over the floor and empties the laundry basket into the washing machine. He throws all the chocolate wrappers from his bedside table away, wipes down the surfaces with Amy’s homemade cleaner and hoovers the floor.

Next, he moves onto the bathroom. He cleans the toilet, bath, sink and mirror and sprays some air freshener to make it smell nice.

Making excellent time, he begins to tackle the disaster zone that is the kitchen. A stack of pizza boxes and bottles of beer go in the recycling, he washes all the dirty plates and cups that are stained with coffee and tidies everything away into its appropriate cupboard or drawer.

That’s when Taylor is rudely interrupted by a text popping up on his phone.

AMY SANTIAGO, 17.57:

Babe!!! Great news!!! I managed to get on an earlier flight! David has just picked me up from the airport. I can’t wait to see you ❤️

“Shit,” he curses, looking around at how much more he has to do before quickly typing a response.

JAKE PERALTA, 17.58:

Can’t wait to see you either, Ames 😘

Picking up the pace, he cleans all the kitchen counters and the oven and also the floor and rushes round the rest of the apartment opening the windows, suddenly remembering that is something his wife likes to do. He straightens the dining chairs, cleans the table, and dusts some of Amy’s ornaments.

Moving onto the living room, he kind of regrets leaving it until last. It’s a total mess. Fortunately, he’s on a roll and it’s pretty easy to fix. He puts all the empty wrappers in the trash and cleans an extra coffee mug he forgot about (he drinks a lot of coffee, OK?). He dusts the TV, waters the plants and hoovers the floor. He’s plumping the final cushion when she opens the front door.

“You’re home,” he says dumbly before she crashes into his arms, hugging him as tight as she can.

“Now I’m home,” she responds, making him blush. She started referring to him as her home soon after they moved in together and, yeah, it’s cheesy, and, yeah, Rosa ripped into them when she overhead them say it one time, but it is true. She makes him feel safe and comfortable and vice versa.

“I missed you.” He kisses her. “So, so much.” He kisses her again. “Wait, how’s my best friend Victor?”

“He’s fine, just a little sore. And don’t let Charles hear you say that.”

“He’s probably had our apartment bugged for years,” Jake shrugs.

Amy scrunches up her nose in disgust. “That actually sounds like something he would do.” His actual best friend is obsessed with their private life. Like, obsessed obsessed. There are hundreds, if not thousands of examples, but just this week when Jake was Facetiming her at his desk, Charles popped up in the background to check whether she’d got her period yet.

(They’re trying for a baby).

(Jake was so excited when they finally decided to start that he accidentally spilled the beans to a delighted Charles).

(His obsession with her reproductive system at an all time high, he constantly recommends the best sex positions for conception, foods she should be eating and names for their future, although hopefully-not-too far-in-the-future, baby).

(Neither of them want to know how he’s suddenly started tracking her cycle).

“Speaking of the apartment,” Jake swiftly changes the subject, “what do you think?”

Using her finely honed detective skills, she clocks the neatly plumped cushions, the sparkling countertops and the lack of takeaway boxes anywhere. Her eyes water as she looks back at him. “You cleaned?”

“Yep,” he grins. “The entire apartment. Well, all the rooms I’d messed up. I didn’t go anywhere near your books, I promise.”

“Babe, it looks amazing,” she says, genuinely impressed and, to be honest, a little turned on.

“You should see the bedroom,” he lowers his voice into what he thinks is a sexy voice, kind of ruining the moment.

She rolls her eyes, following him into the bedroom anyway. Making the bed is a huge source of contention in their relationship and by the look on her face, she’s thrilled that he’s done that too.

“I even arranged your one thousand pillows,” he brags.

“Thank you,” she whispers, looking around the room in amazement. It never looks this tidy. There is always an errant sock or two on his side of the room, but the floor is 100% sock free. It’s beautiful. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

 “I love you. And this place was kind of a mess without you. I’m kind of a mess without you. But you’ve had a hard week and you deserve to come home to a nice apartment.”

“I love you so much, Jake Peralta,” she declares, grabbing his face and kissing him, pouring every ounce of love and gratitude into it.

When they eventually pull apart, he has a dopey smile on his face. “Maybe I should quit my job and become a full-time cleaner if you’re gonna kiss me like that.”

“You’re a dork,” she replies, punctuating her sentence with another kiss. She suddenly gasps. “Did you clean the bathroom as well?”

“Baby, I cleaned the whole damn thing. Toilet, bath, sink and floor. I even folded the toilet roll into a point at the end.”

“Oh my God. That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”

“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever said?” He blanches. His game must be way worse than he thought. 

“Mm-hmm,” she hums. “What other sexy things can you say?”

He quickly searches his brain for something cleaning related that his wife would find sexy. “I... uhhh... vacuumed?” He says awkwardly. “And I, um, put the laundry on.”

She gives him an encouraging nod. “Tell me more.”

“I separated the whites and darks,” he plays along. “I put it on a cold wash to save the environment. I didn’t drop any socks on the way there.”

“Ohhh, mama...”

He’s always been a messy person, but if sex is the reward for tidying their apartment, he’s for sure going to do it more often. If she’s the Queen of Clean, he’s going to be her King.

#b99 fics #jake x amy #my writing #the last line is so corny asdfghjkl feel free to murder me !

[jon-daddy-dominus]

Kitten's Collar

Chapter, 5

Her room was still pretty dark when Alexis opened her eyes. There was a dim glow, sneaking in passed the edge of the curtain, letting her know that the sun was starting to rise. She reached over, and pulled the charging cord from her phone. She was surprised at herself, this was the first time in forever that she was actually awake before her alarm went off. Unlocking her phone she seen the message notification.

""" Good morning Gorgeous! 😊 I hope your dreams were as sweet as you. I have to accompany my boss out of town today, and he's funny about us being on our phones while on the clock. So, I just wanted to let you know, that if you message me, and I don't respond right away. I'm not ignoring you, and I will reply as soon as I get a chance. I won't be back until very late, or possibly early in the morning, but I'll be thinking about you the entire time! You didn't say if you had to work today, or not. If you do, have fun, and although I realize it gets you better tips, try not to flirt anymore than necessary, please. If you don't have to work, relax, and enjoy your day off! I can't wait to see you again, Sweetheart! TTYL """

She read his message, and when she'd finished, cupped her phone, pulled it down to her chest, and layed there smiling at the thought of him. He could be such an ass sometimes, but god he was so sweet! She thought. She pulled up her schedule to remind herself if she had to work or not. Even though he wasn't there, she could imagine his reaction to her not having her work schedule memorized. "Alexis... seriously? You can do better than that Sweetheart." She laughed to herself at how well she impersonated him in her head. She tried saying it out loud a few times, but couldn't get her voice low enough to sound like his, and it kept coming out sounding more like a talking baby doll when the batteries are going dead. Which made her laugh even harder. She thought about what Clint had told her, and decided she was going to impress the hell out of him the next time he came over. So she jumped up, threw on her comfy leggings, and a t-shirt, and began picking her clothes up from the floor.

A few hours had passed, and she was on a roll. Kitchen was spotless, bathroom was spic and span, bedroom was fit for royalty, and the living room looked like something out of a furniture magazine. Now all she had left to do, was vacuum, run to the laundry room, and go to the grocery store, and she was done.

The laundry basket was a little heavy, but that was probably because she had nearly two and a half loads stuffed into one basket, because she was the one trip queen! She made her way to the laundry room, and got way too excited that there were two washers available, so she could do both loads at once, and she probably had enough time to run to the store before they finished. Then she could put they groceries away, and vacuum while the clothes were drying, and everything would be done, except the folding. She was so proud of herself, she had to tell someone, and she really wanted to tell Clint, but she also wanted it to be a surprise when he came back. As she stuffed the washer full she decided to just tell him she had straightened up a bit, that way he'd be really impressed when he actually saw everything she'd done. But what if he wasn't impressed? What if he didn't even acknowledge all her hard work? After all, he seems kinda anal about that stuff, like what if he's just like, "Do you expect me to congratulate you? When this is something you should be doing anyway?" She was going to be pissed! As a matter of fact, she was already a little mad that he wasn't impressed in her imagined scenario. What the hell was wrong with him? How dare he not tell her she did a good job? Or that he was proud of all the effort she'd put in? She slammed the washer lid down, and the bang broke her train of thought. Wow, really? I'm wondering what's wrong with him? What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm mad at him for something I made him say in my own head! How crazy is that? She shook her head, and laughed it off, as she set the washers, and headed out to the store.

He seems pretty old school about everything else, I bet he'd be really impressed if I cooked for him. She thought, as she wandering down the aisle. I wonder what his favorite thing is? I'll just text him and ask. No dumbass, he already told you his boss doesn't like them using their phones, so he's probably not going to answer until after you get home. Then you're going to be mad that he didn't respond quick enough. Just get something you think he'd like. He likes all those cowboy movies, maybe he's a meat and potatoes kind of guy? What about vegetables? Does he even eat vegetables? Broccoli! He ordered broccoli at the restaurant dumby, you know he likes that!

She picked up a couple of steaks that she thought looked good, baking potatoes, and a head of broccoli. She stood in front of the beer cooler for a few minutes, wondering if there was any particular brand he preferred. She tried to remember what he was drinking when they went out, but her memory was a little fuzzy. I'll just get a bottle of wine, and make tea. That's what he got himself from chick-fil-a, so that should work.

As she stood in line at the check out, she heard a voice call out from behind her, "Aye beautiful wassup?" She pretended like she didn't see him, and smiled as she slid her items closer to the register.

"Aye sexy. You need some help drinkin that wine?" The guy laughed.

She turned around, and the guy was standing so close that she had to tilt her head all the way back, just to see his face. The smell of cheap body spray filled her nose, before she could take a step back. "Thanks, but my boyfriend's gonna help me drink it." She said, turning back to the cashier.

"Oh you got a man. Where's he at now?" The guy continued.

"Umm... he's at work." She replied, trying her best to be polite, and not show how intimidated she was.

"You wanna hangout for a little while? I got that fire." He offered.

"No thank you. Like I said, I'm seeing someone."

"Yeah, but he at work. We can chill, and he ain't got to know." The guy said, smiling.

Her patients had run out, she had had enough. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude, but I've already told you, I'm seeing someone, and I'm not interested. Will you please leave me alone?"

"Well, fuck you then bitch! Ain't nobody want you no way. I was just trying to be nice and give yo ugly ass some pity dick!" He snapped, as he pushed passed her and stomped out the door.

"Oh my god. I'm sorry, that was so uncalled for." The cashier apologized.

"It's hard to believe that guys actually think that shit is going to work. I mean, seriously. Did he think I was gonna say, "yeah! Follow me home strange, creepy, random guy. I'll give you some of my wine and you can give me an std!" She laughed shaking her head, as she swiped her card in the machine.

"I know, right? It's pathetic, how unimpressive their pick up game is. But you handle that pretty well." The cashier nodded.

"Thanks. I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't sure what he was gonna do when he started yelling. People are fucking crazy!" Alexis laughed, trying to hide her relief that the guy had left.

She walked into her apartment, and began putting the double arm load of bags down. She went back to the laundry room, and switched the clothes over to the dryer. After the groceries were put away, and she had vacuumed, she retrieved the laundry and began folding it. Other than dishes, this was probably her least favorite part of cleaning up. Not so much the washing, and drying, but the folding, hanging, and putting away is what she hated. While she folded, she thought about the asshole at the store, and how rude he was. He reminded her of her ex, and what a shitty boyfriend he was. What the hell did she ever see in that guy anyway? He was a complete bum. He couldn't get a decent job, because he refused to stop smoking weed long enough to pass a drug test. But even when he had a job, he never had any money, so they never went anywhere unless she paid for it. And his clothes, he was worse than a woman about his clothes! He had like ten pair of sneakers, and god forbid any of them accidentally got scuffed. He'd whine like a little kid for days! Then she remembered the time at his parents house, when she jokingly bent the bill of his new cap. First he got so mad, she thought he might actually hit her, then when they got in the car, he cried, he actually fucking CRIED! Over a hat, what a little bitch! She burst into laughter when she remembered, that when she caught him cheating, she sent his side chick a video of her burning his collection of sneakers, and caps, just so she knew what kind of pussy she was dealing with. Alexis laughed so hard her stomach started to hurt, and she knocked over one of the piles of clothes she'd been folding.

"Shit!" She yelled, still cackling to herself, as she picked the them up and headed to her room to put them away.

Alexis looked around the living room, and kitchen one more before grinning with pride, and sitting down to relax for a bit. She picked up her phone, and seen she had no new notifications. So she decided to message Clint.

"""Hey hot stuff! 😍 Wht u up to? I didn't have to work today but I got a TON of stuff done around the house! I also grabbed us a few steaks for when you get back. I'm not gonna blow u up bc I dnt want u to get in trouble. So have a good day. Can't wait till ur back! 😘"""

She sat there staring at her phone for a few minutes, hoping he would respond, but decided she was going to take herself a well earned nap.

Her phone pinged a few hours later, waking her up. She wiped her eyes, and stretched her arms, and legs out as hard as she could, causing her neck to crack, making a loud popping sound. It felt nice, and she rolled her neck around a few times before opening her phone to see Clint had responded.

""" That's awesome Sweetheart, I'm proud of you! 😊 Thank you for not "blowing me up" lol Somehow I don't think Dale would appreciate it much. We're on our way back now, we stopped for a bite to eat, but it'll still be a few hours before we're back in town. So, probably not until 1-2am, and I still have a few things to do at home. Can we do supper, tomorrow around 6? I really want to see you, and taste test your cooking skills! 😁😂"""

She smiled at his message, but it faded pretty quickly from the disappointment of reading that she wouldn't see him until the following night. She wasn't just disappointed, she was actually kind of mad. She wanted to see him, and now she had to wait a whole day.

"""😕 I was kinda hoping you were coming over here when you got back.😔"""

""" I know I said I wasn't gonna blow you up but I want you to come over when you get back to town."""

""" I'm gonna wait up for you sooooo you better come see me! The spare key is under the flower pot on the right, in case I fall asleep. 😁😊""""

""" So are u gonna answer me?"""

""" Hello?"""

""" K """

It was a little after one am and Clint still hadn't messaged her back. She stomped into her room, threw her phone on the nightstand, and flopped down on her bed. She jumped back up, ripped the covers back, and flopped back down. She snatched the covers up over her hard to show the empty room how angry she was. She checked her phone one last time, before shoving the charger in it, and throwing it back on the nightstand. She pulled the covers up tightly around her neck, and pulled her legs up close to her chest. She thought she heard her phone make a noise, so she reached up to check it again. When there was nothing, she dropped it back down, pulled her arm back under the covers, and closed her eyes. She was almost asleep when she felt someone watching her.

"Alexis." Clint called out from the dark.

[modestlyabsurd]

Divine (Loki x Reader)

Trying to ingress a home quietly is much harder than it seems. Especially when your feet might as well be sacks of rocks and your hands would rather not cooperate.

The sound of heavy approaching footsteps and keys jingling roused Loki from the trance of his story. His eyes light up, locking on the door waiting for it to open. A smile overtakes him. Your return is always a comfort.

The door opens. "Hey," you whisper as you pull your keys from the lock and close it securely. "I told you not to wait for me."

"I know, but..." he trails off, watching you kick off your shoes - not very neatly - at the door. He was particularly fond of you in this form; wild strands of hair framing your face, your cheeks flushed with exertion and your eyes drooping adorably.

"But what?" you saunter over to him. "You can't help but await the exciting event of my coming in and falling asleep?" Your sarcasm is weak. It's impossible to stay annoyed with Loki. The genuine happiness he exhumes when you arrive home from work is heartwarming at the least. And as much as you hate to admit it to him, arriving home to your shared apartment, your first home together with Loki every night is one of the most amazing parts of your life.

He's as cute as he can be, all curled up in his night clothes on the little loveseat you bought second-hand, a book in his hands, the amber lamp light casting regal shadows upon his face. The modestly sized TV plays softly in the background. His hair is loose and freshly washed. You sink into the loveseat next to him, soaking up every bit of it; the closeness, the smell of him.

"A hard shift?" his nose nudges your head.

"Yeah, it was." You sigh. Loki always looked forward to this. "There must've been some event happening that I didn't know about, because people were just coming in left and right in these big groups ordering drinks and shit. And it seemed like I got every single one of them; either that or everyone else was just conveniently unavailable to help. I didn't even get to take a break until last minute, which didn't even really count because we closed right afterward. Ridiculous."

You blew a piece of hair out of your face. Loki finds it incredibly sexy when you do that. The after-work rant!

He folds the book together and places it on the side table before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him. He gives you a long, full kiss on the temple of your head, and on your clothes he can smell both the raw scent of you, and the food you'd served all evening.

"Why do you continue to do it every night? Since it's so ... draining."

"I'll show you why," you shift on your legs to reach into your back pocket, subsequently leaning most of your weight into his shoulder. When you sit back down, a fat wad of green money appears in your hands, and you proudly spread the bills out like playing cards. "Two hundred and thirty-five dollars, baby."

Part of Loki is certainly impressed, as normally you jokingly declare "I'm making two hundred tonight!" before you leave for work. Seldom does it actually happen.

So, of course he gives you a high five.

"Are you proud of me?"

"Unspeakably proud, my love. Well done indeed."

Your cheeks become heated as they stretch from your huge smile.

"But you always make me proud. Even if you only make your salary."

"Goodness gracious, don't jinx me!"

You go to stand up, ignoring the dull ache in your back, and make way to the shower. The bun in your hair is nearly nonexistent at this point, which makes it much easier to untangle the hair tie from it.

After giving your hair a much-needed shake, you notice in the kitchen an empty sink. Complete with spotless countertops and the piney scent of cleaner.

"Who cleaned the kitchen?"

"I did."

"Sure you did," you blew off, and received nothing but an awaiting silence. "Wait, you actually cleaned?"

"I'm afraid so." He's so happy with himself.

"You've never cleaned anything!"

"Hey!"

"What? I'm not wrong. And what about your dinner?"

"Taken care of."

"Shut up."

"You know, a small bit of praise wouldn't be terrible."

Doing the dishes and wiping everything down was something you've always been used to doing for yourself, and never minded doing for Loki either. You just didn't expect those kinds of things from him - he always shows he cares in other ways - hence your surprise.

An eyebrow goes up as you rack your brain on the way to the bedroom. Gotta be a reason, you thought.

"No 'thank you'? Not even 'looks nice?'"

"What're you trying to get?" You lower your chin at him, and he turns pink immediately.

"Well, I wasn't exactly making a conscious attempt to get anything, but if you're offering -"

"I'm not."

Loki grits his teeth and whispers "damn" before flashing you a wink. He knows exactly which buttons to push to make you blush.

"You really didn't have to do that," your voice carries through the hallway as you enter the bathroom. Loki stays back, having learned after being yelled at so many times to not look as you undress for a shower. He doesn't understand it, why you're so shy when you're so beautiful. How even though he's bedded you, thoroughly bedded you, he still isn't allowed to look.

But alas he complies, since you seem exceptionally tired tonight.

"It truly wasn't any trouble, darling. I may have even enjoyed it. Just a bit. A small bit. A very tiny bit. Microscopic, borderline invisible - "

"Alright, alright, I get it!"

Loki laughs, gathering your work clothes from the floor. After tossing them in the laundry basket, he puts two clean towels in the dryer before making his way to prepare the bedroom. The gray sheets are still rustled from the morning, so he straightens and smoothes them out, fluffs the pillows. Lights a couple of your favorite candles.

He can hear you humming to yourself over the sound of showering water. Steamy air wafts in from the bathroom, bringing with it the smell of your shampoo. He breathes in. He wonders how in the Norns he got so lucky. He wants to peek in the shower, to hear your adorable shriek ... but he refrains.

"Loki!" you shriek from the shower.

Not quite what he had in mind.

In a couple steps he's in the bathroom. "What's wrong?"

"I got shampoo in my eye."

"Darling, I thought it was an emergency."

"It is an emergency!" Before you finish, a pale hand reaches through the shower curtain with a cloth. "Thank you."

Swish!

The curtain yanks back.

"Loki no! Get out!"

"My, my. What a wonderful sight."

"Loki I swear to God - give me the rag! It burns!" Oh how cute you are; wet skinb suds in your hair. Turned away giving a perfect view of your backside. Nursing your eye with one hand and scrambling to cover whatever you can with the other - which isn't very much.

The bathroom walls reverberate the deep, lovely laughs from the trickster.

When he's decided you've suffered enough, he pries the hand from your eye and places the cloth in it. "You're blushing, love."

"It's probably blood pouring from my eye, you dickhead!" Blindly, you grab for the curtain. Your stinging eyes can't tell that Loki is holding it out of your reach.

"Can you see?"

You huff. "Yes."

"Then look at me."

"No! Get out of here, you perv!" Even as angry, disrespected, frustrated, tired, and in pain as you are, no matter how hard you try you can't hide your smile. It used to be embarrassing, but now it's rather flattering - that he just has to steal a look at you every once in a while. That he thinks you're so attractive.

He makes you feel attractive, too.

"Fine," he sighs before dropping the curtain, casting a dim shadow in the shower.

The cloth helped the burning so you could finish rinsing the shampoo out of your hair. "Y'know, you could've just asked to join me. That would've been less pervy," you call out.

"It isn't my fault that you're so tempting. You're practically a walking tease."

"I literally burned my eye with shampoo, how is that teasing?!"

"Being gone for so long and then beckoning me into the bath, while you're showering, all for an eye injury."

"Oh, well please forgive me for accidentally getting acid in my eye while in a very vulnerable position. My bad, all on me."

This banter is nothing new. In fact, it's one of your favorite parts about Loki; being able to go back and forth with sarcasm, wits, and arguments of points, knowing that all is in fun.

Even if he is a dickhead.

The bathroom door creaks as it shuts, but before it latches Loki adds, "Oh, by the way?"

"Hm?"

"You are absolutely divine." Which is why I'll always look, even when you ask me not to.

~

"Mmm, whatcha doing?" Your sleepy voice calls.

Waking up in the middle of the night for no reason is unsettling enough. Then add not finding your other half sleeping peacefully next to you.

Loki is in the living room, curled up on the little loveseat with papers splayed all around him. Your worried voice has pulled him out of a concentration, making him spring up and approach you.

"Oh dear, are you alright? Have you had a nightmare?"

"If I did, I don't remember it," you yawned.

His hair is tied away from his face in a loose bun, the one you showed him how to do, and unlike you, he is wide awake.

"Why aren't you in bed? What's all those papers for?"

His head drops sadly, and he gently holds your elbows as they hang tiredly at your sides. "I didn't want you to know right away."

Your suspense and awareness is increasing by the second. "Know what?"

"I, ehm, I was eh," Loki sighs. He hates stumbling over words. "I was filling out employment applications."

"What?" you whisper, confused. "Why?"

He looks slightly over your shoulder, choosing the best words he can. "Because, I don't feel it's fair that the burden of financial security falls solely to you, when we are a team. You work so hard serving others every single night, just to have funds to provide everything for the two of us. You worked until eleven o'clock tonight and you've still got to work more tomorrow. I-I-I would just like, to, to perhaps share that burden. So that it doesn't fall on your shoulders alone."

By the time he's finished, he looks like he could cry. But he doesn't. He retains a composed, sure-of-himself appearance.

You're the one who cries like an idiot.

"Loki..." you drawl and your voice cracks, half from laughter and half from stifling tears of overwhelming gratitude. "Loki, you don't have to do that. I truly don't mind what I do."

"Yes, but we can both agree that you deserve a break. I know I don't have to. I want to. I live here as well; I consume food, I use electricity, I use the water. I'd like to make a contribution, I don't expect you to allow me to freeload."

His feelings have brought an unconscious smile to your lips. Loki always shows he cares in many different ways - his words are one of them - so much so that the financial aspect of your home together didn't make a difference to you. Sure, some months are more stressful than others, but going through it all with Loki by your side made it more than worth it.

You don't know what to say.

"Loki, you really don't have to do that, I - ouch - " your neck pops, "I don't mind at all working for us."

"Your body seems to disagree," he winks.

"Shut up. Hey, that massage really helped," your cheeks warm up.

It's a beautiful thing when he speaks his feelings honestly, unfiltered, straight from his heart. How could you turn that down?

While you let everything he's told you sink in, he grasps your head in both hands and interrupts the process with a sweet, mind-numbing kiss to your lips. Leaving you breathless and dizzy.

It's been over a year of living together, and his kisses still give you butterflies.

You sigh, still only inches from him, "You really don't have to."

"I know. I want to, my love."

Something pops into your mind. "But what about your ID? Your information? What do you plan on doing about that?" you begin to worry.

Loki bares his teeth and sucks air through them. "That's what I was a bit stumped about."

A thought-filled silence falls between you.

"I mean, you could apply for S.H.I.E.L.D."

He stiffens immediately. "Darling, I was thinking more along the lines of a florist or something."

"Think about it!" Oh dear. He knows that look. When your eyes get bright and your voice gets high, and you take his hands into your warm ones. "You could help with intelligence! Especially outer intelligence - you could help with research about Asgard! The life in the other realms! You're so smart, you know all about those things!"

He casts his gaze down, not bearing the pleading, soaring wonder in your eyes.

You shake his forearms, "C'mon, Loki. You wouldn't have to make up anything about yourself. This could even redeem what you've done in the past, or at least begin to. And plus, there's mad money in it. But that's not even what matters to me."

"I can't even begin to think about this," he turns away, pulling himself from you.

"Loki, don't do this," you say softly, but it's a demand. "Listen to me."

"You do not understand my position."

"No, I don't! I haven't seen what you've seen, I haven't done what you've done. You're one-hundred percent right."

The fabric of your flannel pajamas itches your leg. Loki picks at his palm, looking for something to look at.

"But I know you have potential. I know you're one of the smartest people I've ever met. I know you have so much to offer. And look!" you motion to the mess of papers around you, "You clearly have a desire to use it."

Carefully, slowly, you approach him. The icy outer layer can be very hard to break when he gets like this. His stone cold gaze doesn't lift, doesn't waver, but he relaxes ever so slightly at the touch of your hand to his wrist.

"You could change the world, Loki."

"What if I don't want to change the world?" whisper-quiet, his eyes meet yours. "What if I just want this little life with you? I'd like to take some of the responsibility off of your shoulders, yes, but what if just, just this, makes me happy?"

You wet your lips, as they've gone dry at his words. So many things going through your mind, so many emotions. But you push them aside, for the sake of your best friend. "Well, I would still support you. It would be a little hard, knowing that you have so much more potential than just this. But I'd still love you. I want you to be happy, no matter what."

Loki closes his eyes. He breathes in. He wonders how in the Norns he got so lucky. He wants to just scoop you up and hug you, cry into you until all of the emotions are out of him, but he refrains.

"I'll consider it." He takes your smiling cheek into his hand. So soft, he thinks. "Only for you. Because you make me happy."

~

tag list: @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @paradisaicsam @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki fluff #loki angst #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki #loki fanfic #tom hiddleston #thor #thor odinson #thor ragnarok #the avengers #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #modestlyabsurd

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Strawberry Cream and BBQ - 19

Pairing: Hybrid Hoseok and Human Reader

Overview: Your best friend knows she can count on you for anything, so when she asks you to watch her hybrid while she’s gone for a study abroad trip for four months, you can’t say no. But when these four months are over, things have changed in a way no one expected.

Word Count: 2,283

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Future smut, Angst, Best friends to Lovers

Warning: Fluff, a little itty bitty angst.

Master List

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 (Final) - Move in Day: A SC&BBQ Drabble

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

You held the laundry basket against your hip, arm stretched out to the side as you walked down the hall to the last room at the end of the hallway. An earbud was in one ear, listening to your favorite music, occasionally nodding your head to the beat of it.

Hoseok’s heat had ended the other night, making it the first time in three days that you got to sleep longer than a couple hours. True to his word, he hadn’t been able to control himself after marking you, showing you another side of him that you never expected but you greatly enjoyed.

Entering the room, you hurried the best you could to the only empty washing machine, setting your basket on top of it to claim it, wincing while doing so. The only down side to rough sex meant that you were sore, and having a mate who enjoyed seeing you covered in hickeys, also meant that underneath your clothes your skin was dotted with various purple love bites.

Inside the laundry room, there were six washers and six dryers, five of which were already taken. The complex provided the machines, but the tenants had to use their own detergents and softeners, which you didn’t see as a hassle as some of the older tenants did. Against the left wall was a six-foot table in length, and a handful of black folding chairs incase anyone wanted to stick around. But there wasn’t anyone else in the room despite the machines running, so you didn’t feel guilty about setting your basket on the table.

You hummed along to the song as you got the water running, turning to separate the clothes. For the last three days, Hoseok and you were stuck to staying in the bedroom for the sake of keeping the rest of the furniture safe from your sexcapades. He already lived up to his promise of needing a new headboard, and you weren’t even positive if the sheets were salvageable at this point. With a shudder, your nose scrunched up at the thought.

As the washer filled with water, you tossed in a load of dark clothes, a mix of yours and Hoseok’s clothing. This was perhaps, the least exciting thing you’ve done since he came to stay with you. But it was the like nothing had changed. You were still you, the same woman who hated throwing all her laundry in the wash at once, unlike your neighbors who would rather toss it all in instead of separating them.

Since the task was so simple, your mind wandered to Sue and your friendship. You weren’t ready to say that it was dying, but you knew that it was nothing like it used to be. It felt like you were seeing her in a new light, one that painted her in a new light. During the last three days, your phone and Hoseok’s had taken turns with receiving messages from Sue, sometimes only minutes apart as she alternated between texting you. For obvious reasons you didn’t respond back. The only time you even touched your phone was when Hoseok went to go get snacks and food from the kitchen for you during the breaks. He didn’t let you leave the bed unless it was for the bathroom, but that was because he saw how sore and exhausted your body was.

You couldn’t help but shake your head, remembering how he had whined when you tried to go to the kitchen the first time after the first couple rounds. He knew exactly what was going to happen but you were being stubborn. It was a good thing he was right behind you when you stood, legs giving out at your attempt to stand. You had to reassure him more than once that you weren’t in pain.

Speaking of pain. Reaching up, you gently touched the bite mark on your neck with your fingers, only flinching a little. It was still sore and needed time to heal. How long it would take, you weren’t entirely sure. A sense of pride rushed through your body knowing that his mark was permanently there. You spent years, trying and failing to find the perfect man, only to realize he had been there all along. Tossing in the last shirt, you closed the lid. Maybe watching all those romance movies was starting to reflect on your life.

“Oops, I didn’t know someone was in here.”

Turning to look over your shoulder, you watched as two women entered the laundry room. They appeared to be a mother and daughter, sharing the same brown hair and thin nose. You knew the mother; her name was Mrs. Whitney and she lived three doors down from you.

“How are you doing hun?” Mrs. Whitney asked, adjusting her teal framed glasses as she went to the dryer against the right wall.

“Pretty good.” You answered, smiling when she looked your way. “Just trying too find the motivation to get a majority of the laundry done today.”

Mrs. Whitney chuckled as she put a basket on the floor. “Mind sending me some of that motivation when you find it?” With a glance over her shoulder, she gestured to her daughter who was sitting on one of the chairs, her eyes glued to her phone. “Better yet, send it to my daughter instead. Somebody doesn’t know when to set her phone down and help her mother.”

You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. Instead you grabbed your own basket and tapped your fingers against the handle to give your hands something to do.

The daughter, realizing that she was being spoken about, lifted her head and forced a smile when your eyes met. She appeared to be around your age, young enough to have pink highlights in her hair and get away with it, but you didn’t immediately recognize her.

“You asked for company,” she told her mother.

“Yes, I did,” Mrs. Whitney agreed. “But I was hoping that you’d put the phone away too, Beth.”

Beth rolled her eyes, but she did put her phone in her pocket. “What would you like me to talk about?”

Leaning against the washer, you felt a pang of sympathy for Mrs. Whitney. You weren’t extremely close to her, but you were friendly enough to stop and have a conversation with each other if you weren’t press for time.

“Well, I think we have a new tenant living on this floor. I’m not sure what his name is, but I’ve seen him coming in and out. He’s a hybrid.”

You tilted your head to the side, biting back the smile that threatened to take over your face. No matter where you went, Hoseok managed to be the main story to any conversation as of late. “Actually,” you softly interjected. “That’s Hoseok. He’s staying with me while Sue, our friend and his owner, is away on the study abroad program offered at the college.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that Beth suddenly straightened up, her gaze focused on you.

Mrs. Wright on the other hand, just smiled. “Studying abroad? Well that’s exciting. Wait, Beth, don’t you have a friend doing that too?”

“Yeah, I’m friends with Sue too,” Beth explained. “She’s over in Hong Kong.”

If a dark cloud had the ability to form inside a building, you were willing to bet there was one hovering over your shoulder. You couldn’t recall ever seeing Beth, but the longer you look, she did seem familiar. She probably was friends with Sue. Even though it was a small town, the college attracted students from all over the state. If anything, you might have seen her in passing on campus.

There was just something about her that made your pulse race. Not like how it did when Hoseok was near. No. She gave you the same feeling you experienced every time you had to lock up the bookstore at night and had to walk around back to the parking lot where you kept your car. You felt nervous around her.

“Well isn’t this a small world,” Mrs. Whitney spoke, capturing your attention again.

You gave her a shaky smile, quickly nodding. “Yeah, small world.”

Shutting the dryer, she moved her full basket on to the table, pushing it against the wall to have space to fold her clothes. From what you could tell it was mostly whites and a dozen or two socks.

“That Hoseok, he seems around your age,” Mrs. Whitney sent you a knowing grin, obviously missing the mark that was on your neck. You knew that she meant well – things tended to go over her head sometimes – but she truly was a sweet woman. For the first few months after you moved into your apartment, she was the only one to say hi to you and offer help when you needed it. “Is he seeing anyone?”

Beth snorted, drawing her mother’s attention. “Might want to clean your glasses mom and take a look at her neck. He’s seeing someone alright.” As if to prove her point, she pointed at your neck, her eyes narrowing when you reached up to cover the mark with your hand. But Mrs. Whitney saw it before you could hide it.

“Oh, I didn’t realize…” Mrs. Whitney’s hands grip tightened on the washcloth she had been folding. “I’m sorry hun, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s alright, Mrs. Whitney.”

The room went silent for a moment, the atmosphere so tense that it felt like it would suffocate you at any moment. Beth sat back in her seat, a smug grin on her face as she pulled out her phone.

“You know, he seems like a really nice man,” Mrs. Whitney softly said. “And as long as he makes you happy, then I don’t see any reason to dislike him.”

Looking up, you saw the gentle smile on her face that was meant just for you. “Thank you, Mrs. Whitney. Hoseok’s about the sweetest man you could ever meet.” Her smile widened as she began to fold her clothes once more, and you took that as your cue to leave.

You rubbed the mark once more before uncovering it, feeling Beth’s stare on it as you wished Mrs. Whitney a good day, hurrying out of the laundry room as fast as possible without drawing attention. Taking a shaky breath, your body moved on autopilot, the steps to your apartment already ingrained in your mind as your thoughts went elsewhere.

This wasn’t what you were expecting when you went to go do laundry. Obviously, there were still people who didn’t see hybrids as equals, but you didn’t think you’d run into someone who thought that way so soon. Especially someone who was a friend of Sue.

It didn’t change your mind or your feelings for Hoseok, you didn’t want to bother with people like Beth. What hurt was that she already had her mind made up about hybrids, and despite how sweet and understanding her mother is, she didn’t seem to be changing her mind anytime soon.

As you walked back into your apartment, you were still thinking about Beth when Hoseok walked out of your now shared bedroom, dropping a black garbage bag on the floor.

“Bad news,” he announced, scratching the base of his dog ears.

Raising an eyebrow, the corner of your lips curved into a smile as you guessed what was in the bag. “We need new bed sheets?”

“I’m thinking we should buy a bunch, that way if they get ruined, we don’t have to constantly go out to the store.” He had the decency to look partially guilty, but it was still amusing. Walking around the bag, he went to take the basket from you when he frowned, his tail stilling as he took in the not so happy look on your face. “Strawberry, is everything okay? If it’s about the sheets, I’m sorry. Ripping them was the last thing I planned to do.”

You shook your head though, effectively cutting him off. “No, it’s not that. Do you recall someone named Beth Whitney?” You asked, setting the basket on the floor. “Pink highlights, apparently a friend of Sue?”

He frowned as he thought about it, moving closer so he could slip his hand into yours. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t picture her. I might’ve met her at some point, Sue and Colin always had people over. Why do you ask?”

“I ran into her and her mom in the laundry room,” you answered, stepping into his embrace. His arms went around your back as he looked down at you. “She was very interested in the fact that you were staying with me. Beth, that is.”

Hoseok tilted his head. “Well, that’s weird.” But he kissed your forehead and your body relaxed at his touch. These three days had been amazing, and to see you suddenly so sad didn’t sit well with him. “I wouldn’t worry about it though. She’s probably someone who’s nosey. Sue always had a few friends who couldn’t mind their own business. We on the other hand, have to go shopping for a new headboard and sheets.”

That made you chuckle, and as you went to retrieve your purse, you couldn’t shake the strange feeling. It was like a cold breeze that never died down. You tried not to think about it, and when the two of you left, Hoseok wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you headed for the elevator. His touch warmed you up, but you could feel a pair of eyes on you that didn’t go away until the elevator doors closed shut.

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