#i hope i will get the foggy part right really bad .here goes nothing!!!!<

[tainted-wine]

The Spring Bird Survival Guide

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

(So many of you have asked for a part two of my rutting Hawks fic. I gave in! I have no idea how this holds up compared to the first, but I hope you enjoy!)

Read Part 1 if you haven’t! This takes place directly after those events!

Words: 10k (WHOOPS)

Warnings: None, except for an absurd amount of scene transitions that hopefully don’t get too confusing.

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

Tuesday

The chorus of songbirds can be heard right outside of Hawks’s window, their small shapes dashing past and making the peeking sunlight flicker across the bedroom. It sounds like it’s gonna be a beautiful day. He’d be elated, if he wasn’t feeling so ill already.

The fever and itch were coming back, like a hot rash that he couldn’t scratch because it was inside of him. He was really hoping to never feel such a hellish sensation ever again.

He slowly peeled the thick sheets off, making sure not to disturb his bedmate as he sat up. There’s no way the quirk’s effects were returning, is there? Last night, the feeling had only gotten weaker with every passing hour. Now it has returned, not in full force, but once again difficult to ignore. He peered over his shoulder to check on his guest.

You were still sound asleep, worn body supported by pillows all over as if you were in danger of falling apart. While Hawks was healing that night, your aches had only gotten worse. He at least managed to convince you that you were in no condition to drive back home and the safer choice was to stay at his place. You were still wearing the clothes he gave you, while he himself donned only a cozy pair of pants. Such a shame that you didn’t take kindly to his request to sleep nude together. Seriously, what was even the issue? He’s already seen every inch of your body, and in every angle possible.

Every hot, sweaty, mouthwatering angle possible.

The internal fire suddenly rushed to his groin, making him slap a hand over his mouth to muffle a groan. He shouldn’t be around you in this state; might as well get up early and prepare for work.

The moment he was on his feet and stretching, a buzz was heard on the nightstand. Your phone vibrated against the smooth wood as it lit up and revealed the caller’s name.

Ah, the good ol’ deputy.

What that nagging old man wanted was between him and you. It wasn’t Hawks’s right to force himself between whatever matters the two of you had to discuss.

Those facts aren’t going to stop his nosy ass, however.

The phone was snatched from the stand without a second thought, the hero walking out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible before answering. “Mornin’, sir,” Hawks greeted. You were the only ‘superior’ he could toy with; any unruly behavior around the actual important people came with a high risk of punishment. Taking his frustrations out on you has been a blast, but after the bind you freed him from yesterday…

“Hawks? May I ask what you’re doing with your handler’s phone?” The deputy questioned.

‘I completely wrecked her last night. The poor lady didn’t survive.’ He considered the joke for a second, but decided that the stuffy bastard wouldn’t appreciate it. “She’s still snoozing. Yesterday was pretty rough on her. I think she deserves a little slack.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” he said sternly, like he was offended that Hawks dared to make a suggestion. Hell, he probably was. “Well, since you’re here, I suppose I can ask you directly. How are you feeling? Has the quirk worn off?”

His wings flapped and fanned himself. “Oh, so much better, sir! You guys have the best solutions to everything, don’t you? Never doubted you for a second.” Truthfully, if his moral compass was more stable, he’d say that offering an unsuspecting woman to him like some maiden sacrifice was just a little twisted. He can’t help but wonder if he would have refused if he was thinking straight at the time.

“Very good. So you are not feeling any lingering effects? Do your usual rutting symptoms feel stronger at all?”

“Eh…” Hawks hesitated. Should he bother trying to hide it? If there’s anything he’s learned from his mentally taxing undercover work, it’s that half-truths are often the best answer. “Feels like it’s still floating around in me, but nothing to worry about. It won’t be getting in the way of my work.”

“That’s great to hear. We don’t want you hurting your image with any more of your brutish displays in public. Please keep those special traits to yourself.”

That made his lip twitch. It really shouldn’t bother him. The Commission has always expressed their distaste for his more animalistic habits, but fuck, would it kill them to at least show some pity when it’s his very own instincts that are causing his suffering? “You got it, sir.” His calm response didn’t betray his irritation.

“And if you do start having issues, then I recommend that you turn to your handler again. In fact, I was calling to inform her that we have found a more competent individual to replace her.”

Oh. That’s…ouch.

“Really? I kinda like her,” Hawks admitted. It’s pretty awkward to be discussing your possible termination on your phone during a call that was meant for you.

The deputy gave a dry laugh. “Of course you do. She has absolute zero control over you. I was hoping you were mature and disciplined enough to not take advantage of her inexperience, but I suppose I was expecting too much of you.”

Yeah, he kinda was, honestly. No argument there. “So sorry, sir. I won’t let it happen again.” Maybe.

“You better make sure of it. As I was saying, we’ll keep her around in case you are in need of more relief. Once your hormones have stabilized, I will give her the news and you will be rid of her.”

Hawks actually snorted from just how fucked up that plan was.

The cruel man ignored the sound and went on. “Can I trust you to stay quiet about this? I’d rather not have to deal with any constant badgering for however long this goes on.”

‘Totally! There’s no need for her to know that she’s only being kept around to be my fucktoy and then get fired immediately afterwards.’ Man, what an organization that he works for. Too bad they have him whipped and incapable of defying them. “Your secret’s safe with me, sir.”

“Good. Well, this call didn’t go as planned, but it was satisfying enough. I’m expecting you to remain in top condition during your duties. Do not disappoint us.” He hung up without waiting for Hawks’s response.

The winged man didn’t even notice the perspiration quickly coating his body until the phone nearly slipped out of his slick hands. As he returned to his room and placed your device back where it was, he couldn’t help but watch your sleeping form.

You were always cute, he’s not gonna lie about that. Finding new ways to embarrass you on the job became a new type of thrill for him. Your blushful glares never got old.

But he never thought that he’d see you like this, or the state that you were in yesterday. His mind was barely there as he was shrouded in that prankster of a villain’s quirk, but he could still feel you all over his extra sensitive feathers. He was practically drowning in you at the time.

The smell of your arousal. The taste of the glaze on your pussy. The sweet songs of pleasure. The look of overwhelming bliss on your face.

Your soft skin, and your hot wet opening that he wanted to invade over and over again…

“Keigo?”

He doesn’t know when you woke up, or when the hell he crawled into the bed with his face so close to yours that he could feel your breath. “Uh…”

“Are you alright? You’re looking feverish again. And…” You looked down in concern, and Hawks followed your gaze to see the full erection that totally snuck up on him.

“Whoa! Sorry about that! Little guy doesn’t know when to quit.” Hawks scooted away, trying and failing to hide the tent in his pants.

You attempted to sit up, only to wince and settle back down. “Dammit, I can’t believe how much I’m hurting from yesterday. This is embarrassing.” You groaned and snuggled up to the many pillows.

He couldn’t resist planting a kiss on your forehead, ignoring how the brief contact made his hardness twitch. “Sorry, angel. Really wish I wasn’t such an animal back there. Just stay still; I’ll get you some fresh water for your painkillers.”

You look like you wanted to say something, but decided on closing your eyes and trying to relax instead. “Thanks.”

He was already rushing out of the room, heading into the kitchen to fill the empty glass while considering dowsing himself in the cold tap water.

Why, why the fuck was it coming back? Just looking at you was making his vision foggy again. It can’t be his rut; it never made him this excited before. He didn’t have the courage to return to the bed, alternatively placing the cup onto a hardened feather and floating it back to you. He stayed where he was, leaning against the sink and wiping at his face. The heat remained at a manageable level as long as he kept his distance from you, but he wanted to stay close. He had to stay close and protect the woman he was now mated to.

Wait, what?

“Keigo?” He heard you call out and was pulled from his confusing thoughts. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Hawks gave a laugh that didn’t sound all that convincing to his own ears. “Bad news, babe. I think I’m still a horny bird,” he confessed.

There was a pause. Maybe you had taken a sip. “I don’t know if they told you, but when the deputy explained your…situation, he said that the symptoms of your rut will probably be amplified until it’s over.”

Ah, the old man did mention that over the phone. He only had about a week of his yearly phase left, but if this all means intensified aggression and arousal, not to mention the attachment to the lady he just banged for several hours…

This was going to be a very difficult week.

“Babe?” He said just loud enough for you to hear.

“Yes?”

“…I really fucked up by not taking my meds, didn’t I?”

He didn’t exactly hear your sigh, but it was still felt through his wings. “I’m afraid you did.”

Yeah, this was all his fault. This bullshit would only be half as painful if he was still taking his stupid hormone medication like he has been for years. Not only do these unrestrained imbalances feel foreign to his body, but Libido’s quirk practically put them on steroids.

The medicine’s side effects don’t sound all that bad anymore.

—————

Hawks had already eaten a slice of leftover pizza by the time you finally mustered up the strength to get up. The feel of your entire lower body cramping made you whimper and stumble.

He was already scrambling back in to catch you and hold you up, his high body temperature startling you. “Thank you,” you said wearily.

He froze for a second before jumping back, the sudden loss of support almost making you fall anyway. He wordlessly strutted over to his wardrobe, withdrawing a fresh pair of underwear. 

You looked away when the pants were pulled down and his hardness sprang free. He’s not just going to ignore that, is he?

“Keigo, do you need to…do this…again?” You asked, tuning out the throb of your muscles.

He chuckled as he began to dress himself . “You are not up for more sex, baby. Don’t even act like it when you can barely stand.”

You huffed. “You’re getting really hot again and you shouldn’t go out feeling like th—”

“Nope.” His boner is covered again, somewhat. He stares at the obvious protrusion before shrugging and retrieving his hero outfit.

Even with your aches, you had the grit to push on. “As long as you go slow, I can probably handle it.”

“Mmmm, can’t promise that,” he murmured while momentarily detaching his wings in order to squeeze into his tight black shirt. “The second I’m inside you, I might lose control and shatter your pelvis.”

That’s horrifying, but… “I trust you.”

“I don’t trust me.”

“Keigo…”

“And don’t get too attached to that name, dove. Can’t have it slipping out in public.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I’m not stupid.”

“Could’ve fooled me, since you’ve offered me your tender pussy twice already. Do you want me to pound you into mush?”

“Language, Hawks!” You strictly reminded him, undeterred by your wobbly legs as you tried to remind him who was in charge.

Hawks shot you a look, his face crinkled into furrowed eyebrows and a crooked grin, a look that screamed ‘Seriously?’

“Listen, ma’am, wood happens. I’ve dealt with it plenty of times like any other guy, so I’m telling you that I don’t need to bang to get rid of this.” He pulled up his tan loose pants, the bulge not as obvious, but still visible. “But if you really insist on ordering me to fuck you silly, be my guest.”

You weren’t exactly going to do that, it’s just that Hawks was acting so unfazed by his strong arousal, but his body was very clearly telling a different story. His breathing was heavier than necessary, and every time after he made eye contact with you, it’s like he had to spend a minute to compose himself. However, if he’s confident that he can endure…

“Fine,” you sighed, watching him suit up with more interest than you cared to admit. You hobbled on out and into the kitchen.

“Need help, granny?” You heard him offer. “I can fly you to your place if your legs still aren’t working.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled in annoyance at both him and your uncooperative limbs. The fridge was yanked open and you frowned at its contents. The pizza and chicken wings were the only real food he had, the rest being sugary snacks or microwave meals. Looks like ‘keeping a healthy diet’ will have to be added to your Hawks Maintenance list.

The flaps of wings were heard behind you as Hawks headed for the door, fully geared up and ready for hero work. “Welp, you’re a big girl that can handle yourself. Drive safely, babe. Can’t wait to hear what you have to nag me about at the office.”

“Hmph,” you gave a smirk of your own when you turned away from the humming microwave. “Probably about the next mistake you make for all of the internet to see.”

He waved dismissively and opened the door, the morning sun illuminating him with an enchanting glow. “Come on, have some faith in me. I’ll be careful.”

Crimson wings spread as he steps outside, but the door closes before you can watch him take off.

—————

Buzzfood.com

HAWKS SPORTS STIFFY ON THE JOB

Written by Yuki Burushito

Now, I know that I’ve been posting enough Hawks-related articles to last a year, but can you blame me with all the weird behavior he’s been exhibiting this month? You probably think that I have a boner for the guy, but let me tell you this: one of us has a boner, and it isn’t me.

Everyone’s favorite hawk was hiding a woodpecker in his pants today. The best part is that it apparently lasted hours, given that it was mentioned in several incidents throughout the day, but the clearest example was when he subdued a mugger at noon, which was filmed by a bystander and is already making the rounds across the web.

Yet another extreme apprehension from Hawks—though it doesn’t top the beating he gave to that frisky peacock—I sure didn’t expect the fast-working hero to swoop down on a fleeing thief and slam him into the ground. I’m certain that a few feathers would have done the job just fine. When the pinned mugger felt Hawks Jr. poking at his back, he lifted his busted face off the ground and screamed, “Is this shit turning you on?!”

While everyone is currently having a field day with that meme-able clip, the answer is most likely no. Hawks was hard before the mugging occurred. Since I’ll probably be writing about him again by...I don’t know, tomorrow, I’ll cut to the chase. You have probably heard the theories that Hawks is experiencing some sort of rut. 

Well, it’s time for me to come out and say that I fully support those theories. “But Mr. Burushito!” I hear you say. “If this is something as regular as a rut, how come he’s never acted this wild before?” My answer to that is: I have no idea. He’s still a rather young man; maybe whatever sexual cycles his body possesses have only started appearing recently.

Honestly, you can never be sure with mutant types. Their bodies never make any damn sense.

“I take offense to that last sentence.”

You didn’t react to Hawks’s comment as you both read the article on your phones. After seeing multiple images of ‘Hard Hawks’, as he’s been nicknamed, taken by several random civilians and shared on their social media accounts, you knew it was only a matter of time before these petty news sites decided to take a bite out of the fresh meat.

Maybe this was your fault for trusting the hormonal bird that was currently seated in front of you while you stood across his desk. The only reason you aren’t scolding him right now is because he already looks so damn miserable. He had removed his protective headphones and visor right after finishing his patrols. A desk fan was turned to its highest setting, blowing directly into the hero’s sweaty face as he tried his hardest to focus on the small screen in his hands. He hasn’t looked at you since you’ve entered the office, but distressed or not, there was a certain matter you had to discuss.

“The deputy apparently called me this morning,” you started, ready to see how he reacts.

You notice him tense for just a second as he continues to scroll through whatever it is he’s looking at.

“It says that I had taken the call, but I sure don’t remember that. What I do remember is that you were awake before me.” Your hands were on your hips, waiting for Hawks to answer to your unspoken accusation. “Well?”

He still stared down at his phone, but it didn’t seem like he was actually looking at anything, his mind elsewhere. “Yeah yeah, I talked to him,” he admitted groggily.

You’re more angered by the fact that the deputy never bothered to call you back, leaving you in the dark from whatever he and Hawks had discussed. “So, what did you two talk about? You know, during my call that was meant for me?”

Hawks finally laid his glassy eyes on you. The energy surrounding him was drastically different from this morning and it made you just a tad anxious. Your body truly didn’t feel up to it when you offered him more sex this morning, but you knew it would be better than him reverting to another delirious state. “In a nutshell, he wants us to keep fucking until I’m better.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “What? He didn’t think it was important to tell me about this?”

He leaned far back into his chair and smiled, beads of sweat trickling down his neck. “Guess not. But hey, you’re doing your job anyway, already serving yourself to me the minute you see a hard-on.”

You glared, considering storming out of the room and calling that asshole immediately. “I don’t appreciate him expecting me to be your personal whore.”

“I know, I know. He’s a real douche, isn’t he? How about we both blow off some steam?” He was already scooting out of his chair and making his way around the desk. “I’m just making one mistake after another. Shoulda just said yes to you this morning. Never pays to be a nice guy, does it?” His voice was sounding rougher with each word, like his throat was changing into a sandpaper tube as he stopped right in front of you.

You trembled, making the mistake of looking down and spotting the erection that was very much still present.

For the sake of your still-burning body, you might need some time to mentally prepare for this. “Alright…but before we leave, just let me—”

“Leave?” Two hands clasped onto your shoulders hard, holding you in place. The raptorial eyes held yours captive, stirring up a heat within you despite your unease. “We’re doing this right here, right now.”

“Wha-I-but-” Your stutters were ignored as he turned you to the desk and bent you over, your back muscles screaming in protest. All of his weight was pressing into you, his deprived cock pushing against your ass.

“And everyone’s already left for tonight, so it’s just you and me.” He’s eagerly yanking your pants down then does the same for his own. 

His fingers wasted no time in groping your sex, the swipes against your folds triggering a steady flow of slick arousal. There should be no one else in the building at this time, but your paranoia still makes you clap a hand over your mouth as you gasp from his sinful touches.

“Mmm, already getting wet for me?” He cooed behind you, his breath feeling like heat emanating from an open flame. “My brave little hen, willing to take as many poundings as she can.”

That’s a pet name you haven’t heard before. Teeth scrape across the space between your neck and shoulder while the head of his cock lubricates itself along your fleshy petals. When he pierces you with a strong jab of his hips, the light nips on your skin become a full-on bite, muffling his own cry. For you, however, the sharp sensation of being filled so suddenly combined with the pain of his teeth pinching into the crook of your neck had you wailing through your hand.

He was already setting a quick pace, giving your bitten area a few apologetic licks before leaning back to properly grip your hips and plow you. Your entire body was rocked forward with each impact, the harsh stroking of your inner walls bringing forth a raw pleasure that you admittedly missed.

But that wasn’t enough to ignore the resurging aches all over you. Your sensitive ass cheeks have become very familiar with slapping against his abdomen, every pleasurable collision also shooting pain up your lower back, and his probing dick was showing no mercy to your delicate insides.

“Haw—ah, Hawks! You need…you need to slow down!” You quavered.

The only response was a series of savage pants and growls as his violent movements continued, informing you that all of his sense and reasoning has disappeared once again. You remember the warning he gave you this morning, and fear that his quip about breaking your pelvis may have been more than just a joke.

You try to twist yourself just enough to see his face and speak to him more directly, but a hand on your back shoves you hard onto the desk, leaving your breasts and belly to scrape against the wooden surface. At least you weren’t fully stripped for this.

How the hell did this happen so fast? He was speaking just a minute ago! Do the after-effects of Libido’s quirk ruin Hawks’s mind that quickly the second his dick touches a pussy?

A moan was being ripped from your throat with every thrust as he upped the speed and force. He was showing no signs of stopping, and your thighs were beginning to cramp. The mixture of colorful pleasure and throbbing pains was making every inch of you shake. His fierce sounds were becoming distant—even with your legs on the verge of giving out and your back muscles crying, you welcomed the fog of bliss that was ready to carry you away.

Your poor legs finally crumpled like frail sticks, only for the frustrated animal behind you to lift your hips up until your entire body was on the desk, arms now dangling over the edge. There was only enough time to reposition your numbed limbs into a low doggy position before Hawks was climbing onto the desk himself, crouching over you and wasting no time in continuing his pummeling.

“Haw…ah…nngh…” Your feeble attempt to speak was quickly squandered. The new angle allowed him to easily strike your more sensitive spots, making your moans even louder. The desk jolted with each powerful jerk of his hips, the feral hero’s wings extending and flapping in sync with his thrusts, papers flying off the desk from the gusts of wind. Through all of the soreness and delightful trembles, you wondered what the current scene looked like to a spectator—the sight of this delirious bird beast, sounding a loud lustful tune of primal urges and carnal desires as he hysterically claimed you.

Your eyes roll back as the hot ripples in your core grow into pulsating waves, Hawks’s unwavering strokes prolonging the intoxicating climax as you quiver under him. You thought you heard a sound from the staggering desk—a snap—but your mind was too far gone at the moment to care.

Hawks tried desperately to keep pumping through your tightening walls, but your delicious grasp on him was draining his stamina. You were gripping the edge of his workspace for dear life, the orgasmic throbs still wracking your body as he rabbit fucked you, ready to fill your womb with the load that has been prepared since morning…

It all happened in slow motion...the sound of wood and metal breaking, the weightless feeling of falling...you had registered it all just a second too late. Your abused body dropped with the collapsing desk, Hawks’s weight crashing down on top of you while papers slowly floated toward the floor. Both of you laid there in agony, the chair somehow falling over and onto Hawks for added insult. A few groaned words revealed that the winged man was fully aware again.

“Augh, fuck…my balls.”

—————

Wednesday

“Here’s all of the completed paperwork, Hawks sir!”

Hawks beamed at the intern entering his office with a stack of papers. “Ah, thanks, Springer! You’re a real lifesaver, ya know that?”

The aspiring ‘Bouncing Hero’ hopped excitedly on his peculiar coiled legs as he handed over the documents. “Thank you, sir! I’m always here whenever I am needed.” He bowed respectfully. “Although, I just…forgive me for feeling the need to remind you, but please do not forget that I took this internship to do hero work, not to sort and fill papers.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t forget,” Hawks assured him, taking the cursed heap of papers. You were usually the one that he shoves all of his office-related tasks on, but whenever you were preoccupied, he would pass the burden onto a trainee that was too starry-eyed to acknowledge that they were being used. Yes, he feels a little bad, but his hatred of reading endless forms was too strong for him to care much. “I gotta test your patience and comprehension first, then I’ll be taking you out into the field with me. You’re doing great!” He bullshitted with a smile.

Springer perked up at the words. “Of course! I’ll keep doing my best!” His eyes kept drifting to the large empty space in the room. “Sir, what happened to your desk?”

Hawks looked over at the open spot, feigning surprise as if noticing it for the first time. “Oh, right. I banged my handler on it ’til it broke.”

“…”

“…”

The teen searched the man’s eyes for several long seconds, looking for something, before bursting into boisterous laughter. Hawks joined in with his own chuckles.

“You’re very funny, sir! But I don’t think she would appreciate such a joke. Whatever happened, I hope you get a replacement soon!” He bowed again before walking—well, more like skipping out of the room.

Hawks’s smile didn’t fade when he was alone again, wondering where to place the heavy stack in his hands.

Sometimes the truth makes for the best lie.

—————

Pleasing Hawks when he was a drooling horndog was a challenging test of endurance, but at least it was simple and straightforward. All you gotta do is let him mount you and brace yourself.

But that option was currently out of the question. Your entire body was just too damn stiff and sore, every single movement feeling like the impaired motions of an unoiled tinman. Nevertheless, you still needed to get rid of Hawks’s brand new boner.

So here you were, back at his bed and kneeling on the floor, shyly licking at the swollen rod in your hands. You weren’t the most experienced at this, paying close attention to his noises and responses that came with every action from your fingers and tongue. Hawks was watching your performance with an agitated glare, which was just a tad troubling and added extra pressure.

You licked the prominent vein on the underside of his dick, tracing it up to his bulging head before taking him into the hot cavern of your mouth. He groaned through painfully clenched teeth; he seemed to be enjoying it, yet it looked like his frustration was only growing.

Not yet deterred, you began to suck at him, head bobbing up and down while your hand jerked the extra inches that you couldn’t take in. Your other hand gently held and caressed his enlarged sack, heavy and full of cum that refused to be freed into your mouth. His cock was twitching wildly in your throat, so he has to be close, right? Ignoring the burning in your back and….everything else, honestly, you placed all of your focus on engulfing as much of him as you could, tongue swirling all around him until he inevitably gives in.

But a hand grabs your head and yanks you off of him with a wet surprised gasp.

“Stop…stop…it’s just getting worse.” He choked in a broken voice, staring down at the impossibly hard and red erection.

You wiped off the saliva that had run down your chin. “Why won’t you cum?”

His thighs trembled from all of the unreleased tension; you rubbed them to hopefully calm him just a bit. “Fuck, I…it’s like I can’t do it unless I’m…dammit!” The sudden beat of his angry wings spooked you.

You drew a deep breath. You really weren’t up for this, but leaving him in this state would be too cruel. Not to mention it was putting him in a very sour mood. Hoisting yourself onto the bed (with a few pained whimpers), you faced away from him and lowered your upper body to rest your arms, your ass raised and ready for him.

“You know, Keigo,” you started casually, as if you weren’t laid out in such a compromising position. “When I took this job, I imagined the countless situations I could possibly end up in. I was afraid I’d get caught in the middle of some villainous scheme, like a hostage situation. My silly fangirl side imagined going on dates with my favorite hero. The list of scenarios went on and on.”

The man behind you didn’t say anything, so you kept going. “And yet, ‘presenting myself to Hawks so that he can hump me senseless’ was not on that never-ending list.

He gave an awkward laugh, still sounding as if his throat was constricted. “You don’t have to, babe. I can…I dunno…”

“Just fuck me already.”

Hawks said no more and took hold of your rear. “I’ll try to take it slow. I’ll try.”

He tried and failed. Once he penetrated you, he completely lost himself again. By the time he was satisfied, every fiber of your being was dimmed and immobilized. He helped you get tucked into bed that night.

—————

Thursday

“Please, sir. I’m quite concerned for my health. This would be easier if he was away from the excitement of his work.”

After mulling it over, you had decided to be the one to reach out to the deputy, since he didn’t seem interested in calling you again anytime soon. Your original plan was to brave through the fury of Hawks’s dick until this damn rut ended, just like the deputy intended without your say in the matter.

But when you had to visit the doctor for your pains today, and you walked out with a fucking crutch under your arm, you realized this was all a bit much.

At the moment, you were trying to negotiate for letting Hawks take at least a day or two away from work. The deputy didn’t seem convinced. “Hawks once managed to keep working for an entire day with a broken wing and no visits to the hospital, and you mean to tell me that he should rest just because he has the hormonal urges of a teenager?” His snobbish ass questioned.

“This is—!” You inhaled sharply through your nose, catching yourself and lowering your voice. “This is much stronger than that, sir. Without getting into detail, I have withstood some back-breaking nights.” You consider telling him about your recent hospital visit, but the remaining shreds of your pride wouldn’t allow you to share that. Even you didn’t want to believe that Hawks has literally fucked you until you couldn’t walk.

You heard him snort in your ear. Ugh. “Doesn’t sound like anything a steady dose of painkillers can’t fix,” he dismissed.

You gave up making him understand your suffering and tried something else. “Sir, Hawks has faithfully served the Commission since he was a child. He has become one of the most accomplished heroes this generation has ever seen. His skills and dedication have done nothing but help the Commission become a more positive icon all over Japan. Don’t you think such a loyal and hard-working hero deserves at least one day off?”

“No.”

Well, shit. “…Alright, um, thank you for taking the time to hear me. I’ll get back to my duties.”

“Yes, that would be great,” he said listlessly before hanging up.

What an asshole.

—————

“What happened?”

Hawks’s words carry a dangerous tone when he sees you enter his office with the help of your walking aid. It makes you pause.

Going by the sharp yet troubled look in his eyes, you could tell that the tone wasn’t directed at you. ‘Did someone hurt you?’  That’s what he was really asking. His concern always warmed you. “Nothing, I just…” You hate reminding yourself that this even happened. “The pains were getting really bad.”

It takes a minute for those words to sink in, then his eyes widen in some sort of amazement. “Oh.” A flurry of feathers fly off of his wings and form a small floating cushion in front of you. “There, have a seat. Don’t want you hurting anymore than you already do.”

You eye the levitating seat before approaching and lowering yourself onto it. It was like a soft yet firm pillow, and you didn’t miss how the feathers seemed to all shiver, red barbs shaking rapidly as you adjusted your rump.

“Thank you,” you said while resting the crutch onto your lap. Once you were comfortable, you looked at the hero and the brand new furniture between the both of you. “I like your new desk.”

“Thanks. This one is pure steel, much more durable.” He winked.

You return it with a roll of your eyes. “Wonderful. Anyhow, I want to discuss a local hero event coming in two weeks. Your presence would do well to—” you noticed that he was snickering, lips pursed in a strained effort not to fully laugh. “Did I say something funny?”

He shook his head while short amused breaths still escaped him. “I’m sorry, I know you’re hurting and all, but…” He was cackling now, hunching over the desk as he struggled to explain. “I can’t believe I put you in crutches!”

Your face burned with both embarrassment and anger at how hilarious he found the situation. “Hawks…”

He coughed and noisily cleared his throat. “Sorry, I promise to keep it in my pants from now on.” A mischievous grin was plastered on his face. “I mean, I don’t wanna put you in a wheelchair next!”

With a wheeze and happily flailing wings, Hawks keeled over onto the desk with his face buried in his arms, the laughs muffled but still going strong. You just watch with a frown, listening to his mumbled joke about how ‘once you go hawk, you won’t be able to walk’.

What an asshole.

—————

Saturday

Hawks was definitely getting better. You could tell with each passing day, taking mental notes on how he was having an easier time holding your gaze, or how he was able to stay close to you without growing in his pants. Thank god, because your body was still recovering. Another round of wild sex will only cripple you further.

That’s why the incident currently being reviewed on television was filling you with dread. You sat in the main room of Hawks’s house, the house that you practically lived in for nearly a week, watching coverage of the recent attack at the Fukuoka City Mall. The footage of various species of birds flying into the shopping center and swarming the unsuspecting civilians was almost comical, the colorful animals squawking loudly as they snatched every shiny valuable in sight.

A man with the head of a macaw, apparently going by the villain name of Parakill, stood at the center of the chaos, chirping excitedly as his fowl goons showered him in jewels and baubles. His robbery was cut short when small red blurs whizzed into the scene, pinning the criminal onto the floor and chasing around the army of birds until they surrendered their stolen goods. You weren’t prepared for the deafening chorus of tweets and shrieks when the winged hero stepped into the camera’s line of sight.

The restrained villain was cawing and screeching angrily, most likely commanding his birds. You couldn’t see Hawks’s face clearly due to the distance and quality, but you could still make out the intimidating glare as his wings slowly spread out into their full span, each individual feather looking slightly sharpened. Any bird that made a move was quickly poked with a red quill, each and every one of them eventually staying in place while uttering quiet submissive peeps. Parakill’s look of rage slowly morphed into one of fear. Once the danger was surely dealt with, Hawks called for any lingering citizens to leave the area while he retrieved the villain.

You were still in awe as the news switched to another story. Some sort of dominance was asserted there. You weren’t sure how, but it definitely happened. The worrying part was that tapping into his primal instincts like that has probably riled him up. Christ, he’s probably rushing over right now to fuck you into the mattress again.

Only about thirty minutes had passed when you hear the twist of the doorknob and the front door opening. You stand in anxious anticipation. How disheveled and hungry is he going to look? Is he going to jump you on sight?

But the Hawks that walks in is…composed, his face free of tension and layers of sweat as he spots you and offers a friendly smile. “Sup.”

You’re too stunned to give anything more than a “Hey” as he walks past you and heads for his room.

It’s a miracle. No sexual excitement after such a tense encounter with not only a villain, but another male bird mutant? Was he truly getting that much better? There wasn’t enough certainty to approach him while he was changing, so you stayed on the couch and stared at the large screen until he chose to come out on his own.

You were still channel surfing by the time he was strutting over in his loose and comfy clothes, plopping down onto the couch with a wing outstretched and tucking itself behind your back. You gulped—not sure what he had planned for you.

“Relax. You’re acting like I’m gonna eat you,” he teased, watching you flip through the TV’s guide.

“You’re not? I can’t be too sure after what happened today.” You turned to him, watching his keen golden eyes shift and meet yours. The gaze wasn’t glassy. It wasn’t predatory. “You really feel alright?”

“Haven’t felt this good in the past two weeks. It’s nice to be a civil human again.”

You relaxed a bit and shuffled in your seat, fully aware of how his wing was wrapped around your shoulder like an affectionate arm. “About the attack at the mall…” You began. “What exactly was happening there?”

“What, you mean what I did to the birds? Parakill was trying to sic them on me.” He straightened up with a grinning face that radiated pride. “So I rearranged the pecking order. His birds don’t answer to him anymore.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “You didn’t. You can do that?”

“Sure can! It’s not that hard. I mean, don’t think that I have a bunch of attack birds at my command now.  Animal control took them in to be relocated, not to mention some of them were illegal exotics.”

“Ah, that’s…impressive.”

“Heh, remember this, babe,” he leaned in until his lips were grazing your ear, his lowered voice and hot breath making you shudder. “I’m always the top bird.”

You shake off his flirting and try to keep your composure. “Right, of course. I’m just really glad that you’re getting better.”

His wing pulled you in for a tight hug that made you squeak. “All thanks to my sweet hen of a handler. Couldn’t have gotten through this without you.” He heard your pained grunts and instantly released you. “Whoops, sorry.”

You rolled your stiff shoulders and sighed. “It’s fine. You’re not the only one who’s getting better. Just do me a favor and try to forget that I was ever this sore from sex.”

Hawks laughed softly as he took your hands in his. The gesture surprised you after experiencing days of rough and impatient touches. “Hey,” he was almost whispering, forcing you to lean in closer to hear him. “It’s been a wild week. My mind’s been all over the place and I’ve put you through a lot. And…” He looked away with his brows pinched in a pained expression, troubled over something you didn’t know about. Before you could ask, his face drew closer, until your foreheads were pressed together. “Mind if I do one more thing with you?”

You were completely lost. You didn’t understand the sudden tenderness, his somber mood, or why he was talking with some sort of finality to his words.

“Let me take you to bed.”

The fuck?

“Keigo,” you leaned away from him, paying no mind to how you already missed his warm closeness. “I said I was getting better, but I’m not that much better.”

He shook his head, bringing your hands closer to his chest. “No, not like that. Just…I wanna do this properly with you for once. Some nice, regular sex. Hell, doesn’t even have to be full-on sex, I just want to…feel you.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Feel me?” You repeated.

He nodded eagerly with a big-ass smile. The normally cheeky young man was acting so genuine right now.

It was hard to say no to that.

“Alright.”

Hawks said no more, pulling you up on your feet and taking you to the room you both have shared for several nights. He was quick in removing your clothes, peeling each article off smoothly before doing the same to his own. The mood felt so different from your other intimate meetups that you couldn’t help but feel modest all over again.

Calloused hands were gently pushing you down onto your back, and you watch as the handsome man above opens up his wings, his eyes closed as if entering a trance.

“Whenever we fucked, I never felt like I was really there,” he recalled out loud, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen. “I could feel you, see you, hear you, but it’s like my body was moving on its own. I was in the backseat of my own head.”

With a deep inhale and exhale, he stared down at you with a look of desire, but not the savage kind. You’re not quite sure what it was…maybe the look of a lover.

Fingers traced your face, trailing down your cheek, brushing your lips, and skimming over your well-marked neck. “Now I finally get to feel you however I want.”

Your breath caught in your throat when his lips made contact with the flesh right over your pulse, planting a few light kisses before mouthing at your neck, the random swipe of a tongue making you gasp.

His open wings twitched in response at the small sound. He was trying to savor every single one of your reactions. That’s intense.

He was in no rush, mouth moving down slowly and stopping to observe the bruise near your shoulder. “Damn, I bit you hard. That’s…when we were in the office, right?” he asked.

You hummed and nodded. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t as painful as a fully grown man falling on top of me after ramming me through a desk.”

Hawks chuckled at the memory while rolling your breast around in his hands. “Man, that really crushed my nuts. I swear my voice was a pitch higher for the rest of the night.” He laughed into your tits, licking at the squishy mounds as he took in each of your shivers and moans.

“Maybe, but that was probably just from you crying about how you could no longer give me chicks.” Yeah, that was a weird time.

“Shh, that didn’t happen,” he denied.

“Yes, it did. I had to hold you as you sobbed.”

“Lies.”

“You were worse than I’ve ever been on my perio—ah!” A bite on your nipple silenced you.

Hawks shot you a playful glare, daring you to say more. When your mouth stayed shut, he gave a satisfied purr and sucked at the same perky bud, soothing the sting before moving on to the other.

You felt relaxed; this was all so much calmer than what you have gotten used to. While you won’t deny that his feral side was as pleasurable as it was tiring, at least you can finally take the time to breathe and soak up what he’s doing. Judging from his vibrating feathers, he probably felt the same.

He licked down your stomach while his hands ran down your sides until they reached the purple finger-shaped blemishes on your hips. He winced at the sight. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch.”

He nurtured the marks with his mouth, careful not to apply too much pressure and cause any pain.

“You don’t have to be so delicate,” you hesitantly tell him. “The day you were under the quirk’s influence, you uh, you were doing the same to the bruises on my back…felt kind of good.”

His lips curved into a devilish smile. “Oh, so you like a little pain? My innocent little hen?”

“Shut up,” you said with a blush. “It’s your fault that I’ve felt everything but innocent lately.”

“True, true. I didn’t mean to open you up to the wonderful world of rough play.” His mouth closes around a bruise and sucks hard, shooting a sharp pleasurable burn that traveled straight down to your core. “Ooooh, I felt that.”

You can only whimper as he laps at the sensitive area, but part of you wants him to bring that scary jolt of pain again.

“I wanna know,” he says between licks. “Just how much did you enjoy me letting loose on you? How many times did we do it the first day?”

A few more kisses are laid on your hips before he continues his descent. Your breath quickens in nervous excitement when he nestles his head between your legs, face dangerously close to your hot sex.

“Come on, hen. At least give me a guess.” He turns to your thighs and showers them with timid pecks.

The sheets beneath you crinkle under your death grip. “Don’t know…lost count after the seventh time,” you admit through gritted teeth.

“Aww, what a shame,” his mouth wanders further inside your thigh. “Do you know how many times you came?”

“I don’t know. A lot.”

He bit into you and enjoyed the resulting yelp. “Mmmm, definitely a lot. Enough to knock you out. So sad that neither of us remember just how thoroughly I wrecked you.”

His naughty lips are just an inch away from your nether ones, your breath quickening in anticipation. Hawks looks up at you, most likely enjoying the view of your heaving chest. But he does well in reminding you how much of a bastard he is by switching to your other thigh, subjecting you to another round of kisses.

“Keigooo,” you whine pathetically, feeling your aches as your muscles tense from the teasing.

“Hold on, I’ve got more questions. What was your favorite position?”

“What?”

“Come on, you’ve got plenty to choose from,” he licks the sweat that was beginning to coat your skin.

Both your embarrassment and his tongue were making it very difficult to answer. You stammer over your words while his mouth moves inward, but once again, he stops at your mound.

“You really can’t think of one?” He gives you a ridiculously sad face—large puppy eyes and a puckered bottom lip—it would have looked more innocent if he wasn’t so close to your most private area.

You realize that he wasn’t going to take any further action until you gave him an answer. “I…when I’m on my hands and knees…” You swallow despite the dryness of your throat. “…and you’re on top of me…”

“Ah,” he sighs, and you feel his thumbs part your outer lips like a damp pair of curtains. He stares down at the pussy that he has battered more times than either of you can count, and yet it drips for him even now. The feel of a single finger running down your wetness makes your entire body jerk. “You like it when I mount you like a dog?”

“Yes,” you choke.

He blows on your quivering cunt. “What do you like about it so much?”

“I…you…I don’t…”

“Do you just love feeling like an animal too? Love it when a crazed horny guy humps you into the floor?” He finally indulges you with a long lick from your hole to your clit, and the hot muscle already has you moaning. “Is that it?”

“Ah…maybe…” You answer, and he rewards you with another lick. Listening to his questions was becoming a challenge.

“Hmm, would you love it if I fucked you until my bed gives out? You’re a pretty expensive girl to mess around with,” he jokes. He then dives in, sloppily making out with your folds that have been begging for more gentle attention for days.

Your head thrashes against the pillow. His licks and sucks were both pleasurable and soothing against your beaten pussy. You were finally freed from his powerful stare when he closed his eyes and fully concentrated on eating you out. He alternated between sucking loudly on your velvety folds and lapping at your opening, sometimes dipping his tongue inside so that he can feel your walls attempt to grab him.

The building pressure in your belly has become an old friend at this point, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t excited whenever it arrived and begged it to explode and bring you back to that lovely state of euphoria. Hawks’s mouth was moving more fervently as he drank in more of your juices, as if your nectar was intoxicating him. His deep moans rattled your insides while he smacked his wet lips against every inch of your womanhood, giving your swollen clit a smooch before sucking hard.

“Mm…oh god…Keigo, please…”

He growled with your bud still in his mouth, blinding you with the electrifying pleasure that was only enhanced by the sudden intrusion of two fingers in your throbbing cavern. The slow inner massage guided you to the top where stars burst in your vision, each orgasmic throb bringing forth a shameless moan. The stimulated wings fluttered from the overwhelming pleasure surrounding them, Hawks giving light licks and kisses until you were back down to earth.

“Fuck, that was good,” he said breathlessly, as if he was the one that just got sent to heaven. “You felt amazing, so nice and clear.” His wings finally folded behind his back as he straightened himself and wiped his glistening face.

You were ready to drift away into a happy slumber until you saw Hawks move to get off the bed and spotted the very familiar hardness that was bobbing with his movements. “Wait! You’re…” Your eyes dart from his face to his erection.

“Don’t worry about that; fapping works again!” he told you cheerfully before changing to a devious smirk. “What, did you wanna watch or something?”

“No,” you snapped a bit more loudly than intended. “I…want you inside of me.”

He froze.

“You sure?”

“Very.”

He crawled back between your legs—clearly trying not to look too eager—and was already aiming his cock at your opening. Your nod of approval was all he needed to push inside and damn, that was one hell of a face and moan he made.

You reflexively braced yourself for an immediate pounding, but the throbbing length just stayed there, twitching in response to every pulse from your surrounding walls. Hawks appeared absolutely fascinated by the sight of him sheathed inside of you before looking up to your face, eyes filled with a warm lust, not the unfocused kind that you have gotten used to.

He pulled out slowly and pushed back in at the same speed. “Ooooh, fuck, baby. So hot…so tight…” He murmured with a broken groan. The lazy thrusts allowed you to feel every inch of him stretch you, his veins rubbing against you for added texture and stimulation. Your hypersensitive pussy appreciated the easy pace, and even better, it was also working for the hero above you.

His hips gradually sped up overtime, but never into something rough and aggressive. It was more like a grind, his abs rippling with every deep push. His flushed face has gotten dangerously close to yours, allowing you to watch the pulsating pupils of his avian eyes.

The only time he ‘kissed’ you was on the first day, though a more appropriate description would be that he simply smashed his mouth against yours. Now, as you stared at his parted lips while hot breaths blew onto your face, you had a strong desire to finally give him a proper one.

Good thing Hawks was a damn mind reader, because he brought his lips down to yours right after you finished the thought. They were soft, softer than you expected from a guy that flew at high speeds all day. Then again, he was also a sex symbol that needed to take care of himself.

His mouth was clearly more skilled than yours, so you let him take the lead, lips molding perfectly against yours with playful licks. The added intimacy sped up his hips and raised his volume, his entire mouth engulfing yours as he moaned into you. Your tongue found his and engaged in a frantic dance. He’s tensing up; you give him some encouragement by wrapping your arms and legs around his sweaty form, giving the base of his wings a few rubs. Your mouths part to catch your breaths, a strand of saliva linking your tongues together

“Cum inside me, Keigo.”

“Oh fuck.” Your words have him pumping erratically into you, but you’ve dealt with worse. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, whimpering at your legs that keep him locked in place and urging him to release his creamy essence as deep inside you as possible.

His trembles are powerful, but even better were the cracked whines vibrating against your neck as he emptied himself into your womb. You never get tired of watching his wings lifelessly drop whenever he wears himself out. You cradle his spent body—it’s all so similar to the first time he took you, except this time he moves just a little to the side to relieve you of some of his weight. He doesn’t move you for another round, he just relaxes into your cuddles.

“Thanks,” he says softly, already close to dozing off.

You’re not sure what exactly he’s thanking you for, but it makes you smile anyway. “You’re welcome.”

A wing stretches over you as a blanket, the warm soft feathers doing well to pull you into dreamland as well. Hawks’s heavy breaths tell you that he was already out.

You close your eyes. It looks like you both managed to survive the worst rut of Hawks’s life. This sure as hell wasn’t what you signed up for, but looking back, it wasn’t that bad. Except for the crutch. The crutch never happened.

As sleep claimed you, you wondered what the future had in store for you and the winged hero.

—————

Monday

“I just got fired.”

Hawks flinched at the news, scratching at his back awkwardly. “Aww man, that’s…oof, what a shocker.”

For some reason, his surprise didn’t sound very real. But you were way too upset at the moment to question it further. “Well, I guess it’s more like a demotion. They’re still allowing me into a position I have more experience in. It’s probably back to desk work for me,” You sighed, pacing back and forth across the office in a desperate attempt to expel some of your anger. “But I can’t believe this. I can’t believe that he basically kept me around to be your fucking fleshlight, and then threw me away after you were satisfied!”

Hawks shrugged with an apologetic look. “It really sucks, babe. You can’t forget: the real studs are the Commission. No one fucks more people than them. A lot of us are a one-time use to those guys. I’m just lucky enough to have a longer expiration date than most. Or unlucky. I dunno.”

You didn’t either, honestly. Hawks deserved better. “They’re such assholes, yet here I am ready to keep working for them. I so badly want to say ‘fuck you’ and leave, but…” You trailed off.

Hawks finished your sentence with a smirk. “They pay too well?”

Your head lowers in shame. “Yeah.”

A wing pats you on the back as he laughs. “I’m not judging, angel. That’s probably what keeps most of the guys around.” He steps closer to you, gently taking your chin to tilt your head back up. “I’m gonna miss you though. Whoever they send to watch my ass next isn’t going to be half as fun as you.”

The comment warms you. You take his hand and pull it further up to your face, letting him cup your cheek. “Thanks, but I was pretty bad at the job. They would have kicked me down sooner or later.”

He came in closer. “True, you sucked. But you’re the first handler I got to know so well. Inside and outside.” His chuckle is hot against you before he locks his lips to yours. The kiss becomes more heated than expected—he’s tugging at your lip and thrusting his tongue in and out of your mouth in a way that makes your thighs press together. You tear yourself away from his face, breathless.

“Hawks…?”

His tongue slowly runs over his upper lip. Goddamn. “Sorry, little hen. I was just hoping you’d like a nice goodbye gift. I can give you more, if you want.”

You’re so pissed off at yourself for throbbing in response to his offer.

He pulls you back in and takes hold of the waistband of your pants. “How about it? Wanna get to know my new desk a little better?”

The sounds resonating from the office that morning scarred Springer.

#bnha #smut #hawks #keigo takami #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader

[fruitcoops]

I'm not the anon that asked about Remus and subspace/aftercare but I'd love to see more of it if/whenever you would like/have time💜 The way you write these things is so respectful, loving, and comforting and I love it so much!

Thank you so much, anon! I hope everyone who requested this enjoys it <3 Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for implied smut (not super explicit), nudity, aftercare, subdrop/ subspace, restraint, tears (the good kind)

“Easy,” Sirius murmured into the sweaty skin of Remus’ neck, holding him close as he splayed his hand over Remus’ belly. The muscles jumped under his palm and a shudder ran through him as he scrambled for a clumsy hold on Sirius’ arm and shoulders. “Re, easy.”

A hoarse whine slipped out beside his heaving breaths and he let out a low moan when Sirius adjusted his grip to keep him upright. “More,” Remus begged, grinding his hips back even as he shook through the aftershocks. “More, more, more—“

“You’re done,” Sirius interrupted gently, pressing a kiss to the junction of his neck and shoulder.

Remus shook his head frantically. “No, no, I can do it, I gotta, no, please.”

“You’re done.” Sirius leaned back to take more of his weight despite the fact that he was practically holding Remus already. He slid the arm locked across Remus’ chest up to brush the damp hair from his eyes and guided his head to lay back against Sirius’ shoulder. “Deep breaths for me, just like that. In and out.”

“I can’t,” Remus panted, swallowing hard as he gripped Sirius’ thighs weakly. “Baby, please, just—just let me—one more time, just one more.”

“Remus.”

“I’m sorry.” A tear squeezed from the corner of his eye, following the path of many from the throes of pleasure that had left him gasping in the way Sirius loved. “Fuck, it’s always so much. ‘m tired, and ‘m horny.”

Sirius kissed his cheek and ran slow fingers through his curls until Remus went boneless into his chest with a punched-out sound; he closed his eyes and snuggled into Sirius, rubbing his cheek along his collarbone. “There you go,” he praised quietly. Slipping into subspace wasn’t super common for either of them, but when it did happen, Sirius was only too happy to help him through it.

If his memory served, Remus’ adrenaline would finally be draining and the steady slide into the land of the living was beginning. His own drop was a little different, but he recognized the signs well enough. “Love you,” Remus managed, watching him with hooded, adoring eyes. “Love you. Y’know I love you, yeah?”

“I do,” he assured him, laying back to pull Remus onto his chest—they were entangled almost instantly as Remus mouthed aimlessly along his chest and shoulders. Teeth sank into the ridge of his collarbone. “Ouch.”

“Sorry,” Remus mumbled, snuggling closer. His hair was a mess from both their hands and his lips were swollen red, sure to be chapped when the shine faded. Sirius felt guilty for half a second before remembering that Remus was the one who bit his own lips when he got close. And, fuck, had he been close.

“How are you feeling?” He inspected the light scratch marks on his forearms as Remus’ heartbeat went from rabbit-quick to just-worked-out. Maybe we should have chosen a different position for the end, he thought, then shook his head. Marks on his forearms would be less likely to get chirped than ones on his back.

“Alright.”

“How can I help you?”

Remus made a face, but didn’t open his eyes. His thigh was slick and tacky where it rested on Sirius’ hip. “Warm. Uncomfy. Don’t wanna go.”

That was the hardest part of aftercare, in Sirius’ opinion. Remus’ accent was pretty mild most of the time, but it came out full force after something intense and the small fragments of words rarely connected with Sirius’ limited English as his own brain came back online. Still, it was the least he could do after Remus worked him through five straight minutes of rambling French each time he dropped.

“Water,” Remus sighed, toying at the sheets with a trembling hand. “Sticky.”

“I’ll get a washcloth when you’re ready.”

“Take m’ with you.”

Sirius laughed softly and kissed his forehead, pushing the heel of his hand along Remus’ spine to work out any knots or stiffness. His knees ached, and he wasn’t even sure if he could carry his own weight before a few moments of rest. “I can’t carry you yet, mon coeur.”

“Sexy nickname. Sexy times.” Remus hitched his leg up over Sirius’ hip with great effort. “More?”

“Not right now, sweetheart.” A dopey smile spread over his face and Sirius felt a well of affection bloom in his chest. Remus hummed, running his thumbs over the middle of Sirius’ ribs. “Good job. Are you coming down a little more?”

“Mhmm.”

“I’m going to keep holding you, then get a washcloth, then some water, okay? But I’m not going anywhere right now.”

“Sticky.”

“I know. We’ll fix that in a minute or so. Was that good?”

Remus squirmed around until his front was pressed against Sirius side, sharing their radiating warmth. “Real good.”

He traced the outline of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and smiled when Remus nipped at it. “Your lips look sore.”

“Hmmm.”

“Next time, we should remember to use a gag if I’m not keeping an eye on you.”

Remus looked up at him eagerly, his gaze clearing of some of its fogginess. “Yeah, yeah, for sure.”

“How’s the rest of you?” Sirius watched him carefully as he straightened all his limbs with a heavy sigh, making faces here and there. “Nothing too bad?”

“Knees hurt, but I like it. Fingers are a little sore.” Mischief flickered over his face. “Ass hurts.”

“Color me shocked,” Sirius deadpanned, drawing a snort from him. “It wasn’t too much?”

Remus shook his head and stretched; his back arched, then popped, and he flopped back down with a contented noise. “Nope.”

“You look better now.”

He raised an eyebrow and rolled to face Sirius, bringing him closer with a hand on his cheek. “I needed that.”

Sirius nuzzled their noses together. “Any time, mon loup.”

They had moved well past adrenaline, latent arousal, and dizziness, and he was willing to bet Remus would be okay in bed alone for longer than a minute or two soon. The stress of a week of back-to-back interviews from people questioning every aspect of Remus’ life as the new rookie had just built and built and built until he had snapped over dinner, his rare temper flaring up before he looked Sirius dead in the eyes and all but demanded to be fucked until he couldn’t think about anything else.

“Way-it,” Remus said into the skin of his shoulder. Sirius hummed in question and felt a hand pull at his waist. “Weight, please.”

Sirius gathered him close and maneuvered until he could press down on Remus without making him feel trapped—my own personal weighted blanket, Remus teased. “Better?”

He felt the steady rise and fall under him and the buzz of a happy sound in his neck. Remus always got cuddly once he was done with the desperation and the confusion; that was the part that stuck around longest, and if Sirius was being honest, his favorite part of the whole process. For someone who was usually so ambiguous about physical contact, he could be wonderfully tactile.

There was a fine art to making sure the transition was as smooth as it could be—it was a team effort, despite the fact that Remus was fairly out of it for the first half. Sirius rubbed his back to get his attention and rested their foreheads together. “I’m going to get a washcloth and water, d’accord?”

Remus held him tighter.

“Re.” He trailed his finger along the slope of his nose, then tilted his chin up. “I need you to trust me. I’ll be right back for snuggles, but you’re sticky and we’re both dehydrated.”

Rebellion and familiar stubbornness sparked up. “No.”

“Three minutes. You can time me.” God, I hope that’s enough time.

“Stay with me.”

“You were just telling me you were uncomfortable and sticky.”

“Take me with you.”

“My legs are tired.” He combed both hands through Remus’ hair and watched his eyes, still a little red from tears and exertion, flutter slightly closed from the feeling. “Three minutes, and then I promise I’ll be right here. Do you trust me?”

Slowly, Remus nodded, and his hold released.

“Thank you.” Pull it together, Sirius reminded himself as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, using the edge as a crutch for a brief moment. His muscles begged to be left alone on the bed with Remus, but they both needed to get cleaned up before sleeping and Sirius really had to pee. Who knew holding a 180-pound hockey player in place as he shook and writhed would take so much effort?

Sirius. Sirius knew. And it had absolutely been worth it.

He rinsed his face in the sink and ran the damp washcloth over his arms—the scratches didn’t sting, but they were fading to a nice pinkish crosshatch with small lilac bruises where Remus’ fingertips dug in as he finally came, clinging to the forearm that held his back to Sirius’ chest. Without Sirius’ other arm applying pressure to his hips while his hand moved tight over his shaft, Remus would probably have slid right down onto the duvet in a puddle of endorphins.

“Stay awake,” Sirius reminded him as he entered their bedroom once again and settled into his old spot to lean Remus against his ribs so he could drink.

“I’m—” He cleared his throat and took a sip. Remus wasn’t much of a howler or moaner, not like Sirius, but his babbling and breathless sobs of overwhelming pleasure had certainly done a number on his throat. “I’m awake.”

“You sound stronger and look more like you.” Sirius stabilized his chin between his thumb and pointer, carefully wiping Remus’ face clean with the small towel; some of the frazzled edges smoothed out, and soon he just looked tired. Settled. Sated.

Those were all good things in Sirius’ book as he washed away some of the mess along Remus’ thighs once the tear tracks were gone. They would need to shower later, but he didn’t think either of them could stand long enough at the moment, and a bath would quickly turn into a nap. “You’re so good to me,” Remus whispered.

“Because I love you and you deserve good things.” He set his supplies aside and relaxed into the pillows, pulling Remus down with him. “Are you okay with not seeing my face at the end?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to change up sometimes.” His thumb moved in curling patterns over the light, mouth-shaped bruises littering Sirius’ skin. “You’ll tell me if I go too far, right?”

Sirius smiled and turned so they were face-to-face. “That’s my line.”

“You’re always bruised.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I really like it.”

“Kinky motherfucker,” Remus teased, poking his sternum. Sirius didn’t protest, just admired the grounded look on his face and the happy post-orgasm glow that rose high on his cheeks. “You’re staring again.”

“I stare at you all the time. You’re too pretty not to be looked at.”

Remus smiled, slinging a leg over Sirius’ hip and drawing him closer with an arm around his ribs; callused fingers tapped in random rhythms between his shoulder blades, and Sirius let the tension flow from his whole body. This is what people mean when they say ‘warm and fuzzy’, he thought sleepily, sinking into a gentle kiss from plush lips. The drop could be difficult to navigate sometimes, but it was always, always worth it to melt together at the end.

#fanfic #my fic #remus lupin #sirius black #coops #smut #aftercare #sweater weather #lumosinlove

[keilemlucent]

pretty eyes & starshine: iii

(Mostly SFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i   ||   part ii   ||   part iii​​ (epilogue)

word count: ~2.2k

Nothing ever really ends. It just grows in different ways with different parts. 

warnings: description of post-injury, reader and hawks being traumatized but coping, a soft epilogue

the ending folks :’^) thank you for reading this far. here is something gentle for all of us, with some future, past, and the present for sweet starshine and keigo :’^)

enjoy loves 💞!!

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

Keigo doesn’t break promises. 

He loves white lies, the silly kind where he can rib you for a minute or two before soothing any ruffled feathers with quick kisses. He never leaves big wounds, nothing gaping or jagged, just loving pokes in your sides to get you to laugh and quip back at him.

He never goes back on his words that count.

His journeys out of the house remain short and rarely surprising. He never leaves without a goodbye, whether that’s a sleepy fuck or two, or a hand-written, tooth-rotting note on a scrap of paper next to a steaming cup of coffee on the kitchen island.

Keigo’s used to the open skies, rolling forever. The curve of the horizon is his primordial friend that he never got to say goodbye to, but he still chases it a few times a week. Little drives he takes by himself, hikes, and things that he let him feel a bit of that free wind in his shaggy hair. 

It takes you a while, but you don’t look forlornly at the door anymore.

The awareness that of his absence from your little bastion lingers as you move throughout your day, but you know he’s good for his word. He always returns, bearing a toothy grin, and usually an armload of snacks or takeout. 

It’s better, and you’re both a bit more alive. 

...

Spring in the mountains reminds you of something you can’t place. 

The memory of it is foggy, far-off and untouched. Probably a bit dampened from, you know, a year of trauma, but the feeling of it makes your quirk burst to light without fail.

It comes when you notice the little patches of wildflowers that spring up in new grass that rings around the porch. Heat flares in your eyes when you see the little seedlings you and Keigo planted into the window boxes begin to bud and flower. 

The days get longer, sweeter, and the summer comes easily.

...

The bad days never cease, but you both learn to cope to some degree.

Your scar... cracks one day. You’re doing some half-assed stretches in the living room (mostly arching your back so Keigo gets a good peek of your ass) when it happens. Your right leg bends at the knee, and a resounding ‘crack’ and shatter echo off the walls of the cabin. 

You both panic. 

Keigo instantly urges you on the couch, trying to soothe your own panic with little coos from the back of his throat. You feel numb as Keigo shoves up your pant leg, looking for any damage.

The scar looks relatively unchanged. It hasn’t writhed since your days at the hospital, and its edges have only faded a shade or two with time. It’s long, obtrusive, and something you still avoid looking at.

All the same, Keigo traces the gnarly flesh, nimble fingers searching for the source of the sound. Any bit of pain he can identify and soothe, ideally, remove. The pads of his fingers drift to the crook of your knee, pressing against the shiny, black seam of the scar.

His eyes go wide before awe shines through, without a lick of fear. 

He warns you to take a deep breath, ‘breath with him’, before pinching at the glassy center and pulling. There’s a bit of resistance as he pulls, you’re not sure what he’s doing, and you see ‘it’ before you really put it together.

Keigo holds ‘it’ up for you to see.

The inky glass of the scar.

Literal rock. Inky obsidian pulled from your flesh, about the size of your pinky and painfully jagged. 

“W-what is that?” You asked, grabbing his wrist to examine the bit. “That’s... the scar?”

Keigo nods his head, scrutinizing it with you, pinching at it, “Weirdest scab I’ve ever seen.”

Scab.

You have never thought about calling the ugly root of the scar a ‘scab’ but looking at the way it so easily was pulled away, it makes sense. After a bit of examination and tender prodding, the tissue around it looks healthy, albeit thick and burned. The scar goes deep into your flesh, feels raw to the touch, but the skin that’s beneath it is somewhat alive. Maybe too alive, given how sensitive it is.

Nonetheless, you marvel at the little piece of volcanic glass that Keigo had pulled from you like it’s the most precious stone in the world. 

...

It takes a long time to convince both of you.

Keigo never receives another call from Suits, ‘president’, what the fuck her name is. Thank fucking god. His snap seemed to have scared her and her crumbling organization away. You can only hope that it was for good.

The potential return comes from kindness rather than demands. 

Calls from both Endeavor and Miruko, ‘Enji’ and ‘Rumi’ as they insist you call them. Rumi chatters on the phone for hours with Keigo every few weeks, puts the phone on speaker, and has you give your piece as well. You like her, she’s funny and loud and Keigo smiles when he talks to her.

Enji actually visits. 

Once or twice, maybe more. You stop counting when the extra bodies in the cabin don’t have you breaking into a cold sweat anymore. It had taken a great bit of coaxing, but you opened your cabin up for the former pro and his entourage. 

He brings along his daughter and the ‘Three Musketeers,’ as the media calls them. The boys train in the mountains nearby, never lingering too far based on the shouting from the blond one that echoes against the hills. 

The rest of you settle into the walls of the cabin whenever they come to visit. It feels warmer than normal; it makes sweat gather under your arms and in droplets on your forehead. Even if you wanted to attribute the heat to the old flame hero’s presence, it wouldn’t account entirely for your thumping heart. 

You work through it, slowly. 

You like watching Keigo and Enji. They both look worn. Keigo’s a bit too young for grey hair, but Enji has more than his fair share around his temples. The beard around his jaw glints silver in the lowlight of the cabin whenever he tilts his head to sip at his tea.

They smile like old friends, talk like it too. 

You end up in the kitchen a lot during their talks, distantly cooking and observing. You’re always listening to their stories, the banter. It’s hard to keep up with, a lingering vestige of Keigo’s old persona that clings to him and his mannerisms.

You don’t mind it, even if it feels foreign.

...

“Can you pass me that honey, dear?” Fuyumi asks, voice sweet and close.

You nod, sliding her the jar across the corner top. She carefully spoons a glob of the thick liquid into the four waiting mugs, humming just under her breath. 

The cabin feels warm, and it’s not just the ambient heat Enji gives off. 

The ‘three musketeers’ plan to camp in the mountainside and ‘rough it’. You couldn’t imagine the freshly-greened hills giving them too much trouble. They bicker, you have found, constantly. Blunt jabs from Enji’s son, met by explosive remarks from the blond one (why is his hero name so long? You can never remember it well.) Consider your growing aversion to loud noise, you like Deku the best. He seems like the peacekeeper (and peacemaker) of the trio and compliments your cooking. What a gem.

The guest room has been polished into an actual guest room. Fuyumi takes it, and Enji, bless his heart, takes the creaky fold-out couch. He doesn’t mind, he tells you, something about enjoying tending to the hearth at night.

Keigo calls the nights where they fill the house ‘sleepovers’, and he adores them.

They’re a bit overwhelming for you if you’re being honest. But Enji is far less intimidating now that you’ve seen him nodding off and slack-faced on your couch. Fuyumi has patience you’ll never fully understand, and babies you a bit, which you don’t welcome but don’t refuse either. 

She does just that, scooping up three mugs after pushing your own toward you. You regather and sit next to Keigo at the kotatsu, slipping your legs under the thick blanket and sagging with the heat. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he presses you into his side, pressing a few kisses to the top of your head. It’s an idle action, habitual and welcomed as the conversation flows.

(Something about one of Keigo’s old sidekicks. Another about Endeavor’s agency, still chugging along with him at the helm, albeit not as an active hero. The new hero charts, the new rules established, legislation. Things are getting... safer, a semblance of order being re-established now that much of the League has been apprehended.)

(Things are settling, as horrifying as the change is.) 

The thought of so much makes you sleepy, long-standing exhaustion heavy in your bones. You nod off at some point to the kind, safe voices. 

Keigo coaxes you awake once the conversation dies down.

“Love,” he purrs, rubbing your side, “let’s get up now and get you to bed.”

You follow him, the way he rises and guides you to the bathroom to help you ready for bed. Enji is settling on the couch, tugging a few throws over himself on the futon. You give him a shallow wave with half-lidded eyes, meeting his own.

Eye contact feels hard, but you manage to hold it for a few seconds.

In the bathroom, you pop onto the counter and slowly brush your teeth. Sleep clings to you, and you know it’ll return quickly, but the process of moving and interacting wears you down so easily. Your toothbrush almost slips from your grip.

“Just a little more, and then you can rest, dove,” Keigo urges, reverent as he finishes his own routine in tandem. You watch as he splashes water on his face, wetting the tufts of hair that fall around his face.

The cabin feels warmer. 

You notice it as you enter the bedroom, Keigo already hopping into bed to assemble the ‘nest’ as both affectionately refer to it. The old throw, a few extra soft blankets, and a buttery soft duvet must be arranged just right before he is satisfied. 

 Keigo knows it’s a remnant.

He carries plenty of them, little chunks of him that are old and worn, old and unused. He can shake them, can’t bury them, they just simply are.

The birdish ones are nice, he thinks. He likes that he can preen you. He loves that you can preen him. That you’ll indulge him in that way, running your hands through his overgrown hair. You detangle any knots, soothe the snarls and rub at his neck until he’s liquid in your lap. 

He likes nesting. The cold of the cabin can be almost forgotten in the little nests he makes. The mountains of bedding and pillows that you both can settle in. It’s peaceful, and it's shared, and things are okay. 

It’s all slow, and a bit tedious, things that the remnants of ‘Hawks’ scream and thrash at. But, really? Keigo has no reason to listen to a ghost. He tries not to let himself be haunted. 

He indulges himself for the first time in his life, probably.

As Keigo nestles you into the sheets beside him, he gives you a bit of room to get comfortable. Adjusts your pillows how you like, tangle your legs together in the comfiest way. Your own version of nesting that makes his palms sweat and his words turn to mush.

You settle together, chest to chest, Keigo’s chin hooked over the top of your head. 

“Did you have a good day?” You ask, soft and sleepy.

Keigo nods easily, “I did. Enji doesn’t seem to quite as much of a square as he was a few years ago.”

You snort, muffling a giggle into his chest, “He’s definitely a little bit of a square. But I like him.”

“He offered to host us at the estate if we ever want to go back.”

You swallow, thick and slow, and try to bury yourself deeper in him, “... Do you want to go back?”

“No.” He pauses. “Maybe. Not yet, and not anytime soon. But the offer is on the table. It’s nice to have, even if we don’t take it.”

It’s insurance, somewhere else to tuck yourselves away if the mountains stop favoring you. 

The thought of the future makes your head spin, as it tends to. The scar aches, but maybe it’s a tad duller than it was a few months ago. The pains only last a few moments, only stab so deeply. The place where the little chunk of obsidian fell out doesn’t feel quite as tender. 

You lay your cheek on Keigo’s chest, your breath coming in time with his. 

“‘M tired,” You murmur into his chest. “Can I sleep?”

“Of course, starshine.” He pushes back your hair, clears your forehead to press his lips to the skin, lightly. Little kisses piling up on top of each other. “Get some rest.”

“You too, pretty eyes.”

You both need it. For more than just a day with the folks who stuck around. You and Keigo need more rest than a being can responsibly accumulate during a human life. There are things to be stitched, worn parts of you that need tending to, and burns that’ll need salve until the day you die. It’s not any less than it was in the month’s past.

But it’s easier to manage. 

You snuggle into Keigo’s chest, drifting off to the thought of fresh coffee and crackling heat.

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

thank you for reading!!💞

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #my hero academia #mha fanfic #mha x reader #hawks imagines #wow :'^) #thank y'all for reading

[kaylaxwrites]

Rooftop Confessions

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader Words: 1.9k Summary:  You like Matt. You have for a long time. After getting maybe a little bit too drunk, you end up confessing your feelings for him to Daredevil. Who also happens to be Matt. Request:  "How about a Matt Murdock x Reader? Where Reader has been crushing on Matt Murdock for a while and they are like long time friends, but she never acted on it because of his tendency to cut off everyone especially with his Daredevil tendencies so she thought the best way was to stay with him as a friend. She goes out drinking with Matt, Foggy, and Karen. Matt left early to go out Daredeviling where she said and got drunk. Later finding herself on the rooftop with him and accidentally confessing?" (anon) Warnings: alcohol consumption, reader gets drunk

Foggy cheered when you stepped into Josie’s, holding up his beer in salute. “Y/N, you made it!” he said as he wrapped you in a one-arm hug. Matt and Karen were seated at the bar next to him, each nursing their own drinks. You waved to them in greeting and settled into your seat at the end of the bar, throwing your jacket over the back of your seat. Josie slid your usual drink to you a few moments later.

“So, are we celebrating a big win or drowning out a loss?” you asked. The law firm had an important case today, one that would also hopefully score the employees of Nelson & Murdock a huge paycheck.

“Drinks on us!” Foggy answered, signaling Josie for another round.

You laughed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, there, Nelson.”

“Hush up and drink.”

You laughed and downed the rest of your drink as Foggy pressed a shot into your hand.

You ended up celebrating a little too hard. It was nearing 3am by the time you, Foggy, and Karen all stumbled home. Matt had dipped out somewhere around your fifth drink, claiming he had paperwork to complete. You had been a little disappointed, to be honest, when he settled up his part of the tab and headed home. You spent too much time goofing off with Foggy and Karen and too little with Matt.

That was the case lately, or so it seemed. At one point in time, you and Matt were inseparable. You were best friends throughout high school and college and now… Matt was so distant. He hardly spent time with you, hardly returned your calls. The only time you got to see him was when you forced your way into his office at lunchtime. And even then he was always tensed, distracted.

You missed him.

Before he started pulling away, you had nearly gathered the courage to tell him how you felt. You’d liked him for a while now, since senior year of university—definitely probably even before then. It had taken awhile to accept the fact that you liked him, even longer to accept the possibility that you might never be with him. You didn’t know which was scarier: turning your friendship into romance or the possibility of being rejected and ruining your relationship. Until you could figure out which one it was, you pushed your feelings away until the right time.

But now you knew what the worst outcome was. It was ruining your relationship and never talking to Matt again. And that seemed like the path you were on.

You combed every interaction that you could remember with Matt. Had you done something wrong? Had you said something to turn him away? But the more you thought, the less you came up with. You didn’t remember ever letting it slip that you liked him or even shed some sort of a hint. You couldn’t remember any time you had offended him or caused him pain or even the last argument you had. You couldn’t remember anything to upset him so that only left…

You.

He didn’t like you anymore, romantically or platonically. You were different people now than you were when you were kids. He didn’t want to be your friend anymore or have any sort of relationship to you. But Matt was always too nice to break off any sort of friendship directly, so this had to be why he was pulling away. He was still friends with Foggy and Karen, so this had to be it.

The tears started to roll down your face. You were catastrophizing, you knew, but your rational self was overwhelmed by your drunk self who wanted nothing more than to cry. You hated being an emotional drunk. You shouldn’t have let Foggy coax you into taking tequila shots—this always happened.

You stumbled to the rooftop of your building, tears still pouring eagerly down your cheeks. You hoped the fresh air might calm you down some. Instead, your heart nearly burst out of your chest.

The sight of man in a red suit crouching on your rooftop caught you off guard. You shrieked and fell flat on your ass in your hasty stumble backwards. The man instantly spun to face you and took a few, slow steps forward. You tensed, waiting for something bad to happen, but then eased when your alcohol-addled mind finally realized who was before you.

It was Daredevil who was creeping on your rooftop.

“Jesus Christ,” you shouted, rubbing off your now slightly scraped hands. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! Why are you perched like a freaking gargoyle at three a.m.? Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Slow night,” Daredevil chuckled. He offered a hand to help pull you up and you took it, dusting off your legs now that you were standing. “Besides, I could also be asking you why you’re on a rooftop at three a.m.”

“I live here. And I’ve never seen you in my elevator before, so I’m guessing you don’t. So I have a right to be here.”

“Fair enough.”

A teardrop rolling down your chin and onto your chest reminded you that you had been crying not two minutes ago. You quickly wiped at your wet cheeks, hoping to remove all evidence that you were upset. But no luck. “You okay?” he asked. Damn.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?” You attempted a chuckle to throw him off, but the alcohol in your system had you going zero to sixty and laughed a little too loud. You grimaced when you realized what you were doing. “I’m a little drunk,” you confessed as your world turned a little and you stumbled where you stood.

“I can tell.”

You plopped yourself on a concrete ledge in the middle of the rooftop—even drunk, you knew to steer clear of the edge of the building. You patted the spot beside you and, surprisingly, Daredevil sat down. Far enough away to not be touching, but close enough to feel the warmth off his body. Like you were friends.

The thought had you choking up again. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure,” he replied. He was gazing out over the city and not meeting your eyes, but you couldn’t tell what he was looking for.

“I know you’re a complete stranger, but I feel like I could tell you anything…maybe it’s the alcohol talking.” He hummed noncommittally and you continued. “I just…I’ve been needing to get this off my chest for a while now. And I know you help people, so maybe you could help me too, even if I don’t have anyone’s ass for you to kick. Well…maybe I do. I have this friend…we’ll call him…Matt.” You nearly rolled your eyes at your inability to come up with a fake name. A cool breeze jumped over the rooftops and you shivered. Daredevil tensed a little, but you attributed it to the chill. “Matt and I have been friends for a long time now, since high school, and I’ve liked him for nearly all that time. And I know he’s busy with work, but I feel like he’s pulling away from me, you know? We used to hang out all the time and now…I hardly see him but once a week. And I was so close to telling him I liked him, too, you know? I was planning on how I was going to say it and then he…pulled away. And now I don’t know what to do and I’m afraid it’s something I did or that he just doesn’t even want to be friends anymore. I just love him so much and I…” You cut yourself off before you would make yourself cry again.

After a moment of thoughtful silence, he spoke. “I don’t think it’s anything you did.”

You scoffed. “And how would you know? You don’t even know me.”

“There are some things I can just tell.” He paused. “Have you told your friend any of this?”

“No. What does it matter, anyway?”

He started a speech that was meant to help you, but to be honest, you weren’t concentrating on the words. You were starting to realize that his voice sounded oddly familiar to you. You squinted, trying to figure out who he was. You didn’t know him, did you? You raised your hand to cover the top half of his face. Maybe if you blocked out his mask and just focused on his exposed mouth and jaw, you could figure out who he was.

“What are you doing?” he asked, noticing your arm randomly hanging in the air.

“Shhh,” you quickly hushed. “I’m thinking.” You observed him for a few more moments—surely you’d recognize that jawline! And then it hit you. Your hand fell back down to your lap and your stomach dropped. “Matt?”

“What?”

“Matt, is that you?”

“No, I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He started to walk away, but you caught him by the wrist.

“Is it really you?” You tentatively let go of his hand, but when he made no move to walk away, you dropped it completely. You slowly reached up towards his mask, expecting him to pull away, but he let you pull it off and over his head. Matt.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said when his face was finally free.

“But…how?” you breathed.

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe this.” You began pacing back and forth, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. If I could, I would have, but I was trying to keep you safe—”

You cut him off with a wave of your hands. “No, no, I’m not even freaking out about that.” In the back of your head, you realized you should be because how was any of that possible? Instead, you were panicking over the fact that you just told Matt you loved him. You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the words out loud. “I just…”

“Confessed your feelings for me?” You hung your head, too embarrassed to even look at him. His feet stepped into your line of vision before he grabbed your hands in one of his, lifting your chin up with the other. “I’m sorry I’ve been pulling away. It’s just…this Daredevil thing as already hurt so many people close to me. I didn’t want it to affect you, either.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you mumbled, throat tight from being thisclose to crying. “I know you don’t like me back. It’s okay. Can we just go pretend this didn’t happen?”

“I don’t want to pretend.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “What?”

“I don’t want to pretend this didn’t happen,” he repeated. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“Are you serious?” you gasped. Your heart fluttered. You wouldn’t be able to handle if he were kidding, even though you knew he wasn’t the kind of person to do that.

“I’m very serious. Since prom.”

Since prom? That long? Your mind was overloaded. “I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”

But you didn’t have to say anything. You were pulled to each other like magnets, slowly inching nearer and nearer until your lips were on his. It was all you had ever waited for. And it was well worth the wait.

After a moment, you pulled back. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“I know—”

“But in the morning?”

“In the morning,” he agreed.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #mcu imagine #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock/reader #request #anon request #kayla rambles #mine

[ediths]

All The Things I Didn’t Say

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: Exactly 3,443

Summary: You and Harry get into a fight and the things he never told you tear him up inside.

A/N: This is my first ever Harry fic, I hope you enjoy it! (Sorry if it sucks I tried) ~also thank you @fancyxholland for beta reading this, I cannot thank you enough love:)~

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*

It had been weeks since you last talked. You had been doing everything in your power to avoid the green eyed devil, scared that one simple glance in your direction could make you fall for him all over again. And that wasn’t something that you were ready for. You weren’t able to willingly put yourself in that position again.

You weren’t going to allow him to demolish your heart like he did the last time you saw him. You were still broken from then, and you really don’t know if you could handle another heartbreak, especially not this soon.

You hadn’t slept right since you split, not being used to his side of the bed being cold all the time. You washed the sheets and everything that smelled like him almost instantly after he left the house. You couldn’t bear to smell him all the time. You knew that keeping the scent of him lingering in your house would make you latch onto him even more than you already were.

You hadn’t eaten a proper meal in what feels like forever, your body barely having enough energy to get you to the bathroom. 

It was safe to say that Harry left you broken. But can you really blame it all on him? Was it really justified of you to do so?

Maybe. He was the one that went off on you, yelled and screamed and hit every place he knew would tear you apart.

But maybe not. Maybe it was your fault. You hadn’t paid attention to him, not noticing that he was clearly hurting. You tried to push him into going out when he oh so clearly didn’t want to.

There was also the fact that you kicked him out, told him to get out of your face and to not come back, without even letting him explain himself. 

You found yourself in front of the tv most days, not really paying attention to whatever was playing, just needing the background noise now that you didn’t have Harry to hum to you or to strum his guitar while working on new material. 

Every single time you found yourself there, you let your mind wander. Let yourself believe that maybe he was missing you as much as you were missing him. That maybe he was thinking about you.

You were aware of the fact that wasn’t healthy, that the last thing you  should be doing while trying to get over him was to let him run rampant in your mind, but you couldn’t help it.

He was your everything. He had been since the moment that you met him, his green eyes seemingly brightening every dark corner of your life. He made you feel like you could breathe fresh air for the first time ever. It was like you had always been breathing the same, a little labored but unnoticed because that’s how it always was, but then he came into your life and showed you everything that you had been missing.

It was worse now than it was before. This time, you knew what you were missing. The laboring breaths from before meeting him were coming back, but this time that’s all you could focus on. You were so used to feeling complete that it physically hurt to not be around him. To not have him to keep you company. To not be able to kiss his lips or hold him close. 

Your life felt incomplete, so yeah, at times, you let your mind wander to the times when it felt like you weren’t going to fall apart from the slightest breeze.

*

God, he missed you. He pasted on a smile and acted like nothing was wrong around everyone, posing for the media, but the second he got home, everything was different. 

Usually, he would either do his own hair - him being a fully capable adult and all - or you would do it for him, letting him enjoy the feeling of your fingers raking through his locks.

But now, the way his curls were done was a completely different story. He either had his hair stylist come over before he went out anywhere, or - more often that not - he went around looking disheveled.

Even though he had tried his best to hide it, those closest to him saw. Mitch caught the dark bags under his eyes. Sarah quickly caught onto the fact that when he was crying during rehearsals, it was because all of his songs were about you.

You had been his muse.

You were the inspiration behind everything that he did, and he no longer felt like he could function. You had been gone for all of a few weeks and he was falling apart, unable to pull himself back together.

The songs had stopped being written, the interviews had stopped being scheduled, his whole entire life came to a screeching halt. All because he no longer had you. 

Not that he could blame you. You had every right to make him leave, to look at him and tell him to never think about you again. He was the one who took out all his anger at you, the one person he didn’t want to lose his cool to. 

He had tried, he had done nothing but try for the entire time that you had been apart to do exactly what you had asked. To forget about you, to not think about you in the slightest.

He really did. But things didn’t work out that way. Every time that he had tried to write a song, he had ended up writing you a letter. There weren’t many, seeing as he had soon realized that they were going nowhere. 

He knew that you didn’t want to talk to him, that you didn’t want to hear a word that came from him. If you really wanted him back, you would make the first move, that’s how you are, how you always have been. 

So he wrote them and laid them on his desk, allowing them to haunt him every moment he was in their general vicinity.

*

All you wanted was to hear from him. It had been weeks, if he really wanted you back he would have reached out, Harry wasn’t the guy that just sat back and waited for things to come to him. He knew what he wanted and he went after those things with his eye on the prize, never stopping until he made his goal.

Which means that his goal wasn’t to get you back. Maybe he just really didn’t want you. 

You couldn’t blame him for it, you had been distant and ignoring all his signs probably weeks before the fight. You made him think that you didn’t care and he was completely justified in wanting something else, something better, with someone that actually deserved him.

You knew him, however, he was going to make sure that you had moved on before he did, wouldn’t want to date someone else while you’re still heartbroken. The only problem with that is that you don’t know if you’ll ever be okay without him. Not a single part of you can see yourself moving on.

So you do what you do every time something goes wrong. You fake the happiness. You fake the fact that you’re okay. You plaster on a smile and hope that it’s believable enough to make people stop worrying.

A part of you knows that this won’t be enough this time, though, so you go the extra step. You block his number. If he tries to text, it won’t go through. That’s the only way that he can get ahold of you. He never used Instagram, knowing his messages to you could easily get lost in the thousands he gets from fans every single day.

It takes you a pretty long time, and a whole lot of willpower, but after you do block his only means of contact, it feels as if there’s a weight lifted off of your shoulders. It’s a lot easier to pretend to be happy if the thing that’s making you upset isn’t looming over your head.

Everything had been foggy since you made Harry leave, but this made at least one thing clear. You were going to be alright, at least a little more than you had been for the past few weeks. You may have to fake it for a little while, but the first step to feeling better had already been taken.

*

He was not going to be alright. His friends kept telling him that he would be, that she was just another girl in a sea of millions more. But that wasn’t true. They all knew it wasn’t true. They just wanted the old Harry back. They wanted their friend back.

The guy that used to go out every weekend with his friends and celebrate, if nothing else, surviving another week, was gone. Left behind was the shell of a man that was broken into a million pieces and being held together by the scotch tape that he called his fake smile.

He had gone out with his friends tonight, though. He had wanted them to have some fun and knew that they felt bad for doing so if he couldn’t have fun too. 

He had filled himself with alcohol, taking shot after shot until your face was blurry in his mind. He had poured liquid courage into glass after glass until he found himself composing text messages to you and sending them. The only things left in his mind were what you would say and him hoping that his autocorrect was working well tonight.

I miss you, shouldn’t have blown up. I also should’ve contacted you earlier, was stupid not to God I love you so much, I can’t sleep without you, feels wrong laying in bed without you curled up next to me

He took another look at his phone, fighting to get through the blurr to see if you had received them. And to his horror, they weren’t going through. You had blocked him. 

So he had his next drunken idea, he was going to send the letters. Actually, no, he was going to take you the letters. 

But there was still one more that he needed to write.

*

You weren’t a good actor. You really tried, but your forced smile didn’t go unnoticed by your friends. They knew you, probably better than you know yourself, so when they look at you and give you smiles of pity and try to get you a new guy to hookup with, you know that you’re not doing well at convincing them in the slightest.

You can’t even bring yourself to contradict them. They’re right. You miss Harry. You miss his hugs and the way that his scent would cling to anything that he touched, even for a second. You missed the way his seafoam green irises would stare into your eyes as if you were the only person in the world. He would listen to you as if your words were more important than anything that he had ever heard.

Why didn’t you do the same?

Why didn’t you pay attention?

Why didn’t you see that he was hurting?

Or did you? Did you see it and just chose to ignore it, too caught up in your perfect little world?

At this point, you couldn’t say, the only thing that you know is you want Harry back. You can’t breathe without him. You’re no better now than you were when you made him leave.

You just wanted him to come back to you.

*

Y/N,

Hello, Um, I’ve never written a love letter to anyone but you, and this is the first one I’m writing with the intent of giving it to you, so I apologize if this sounds crazy.

I miss you. So fucking much. I never knew that someone could miss another person this much. I miss you when I’m trying to sleep and you’re not there to cuddle up with me. I miss you when I’m cooking and you’re not there to sit on the counter and taste test for me. I miss you when I’m getting ready in the mornings, wishing that your fingers were working their way through my crazy hair and not my own.

But most of all, I miss driving with you. I miss having you in my passenger seat. I miss having you there to pick the music and keep everything light and airy. I miss holding your hand and drawing random patterns on your knuckles. I miss the way you would study each of the tattoos that you could see every single time that we would get into the car. You would look over them, trace each little line like it was the first time you had ever seen them.

You make me feel like art, even when I don’t feel so hot. You make me see the best in life.

I’m so fucking sorry Y/N. I shouldn’t have blown up at you. I should have sat down and talked to you like good boyfriends do. I should have just stopped getting in my own head and opened up to you.

We’d never fought like that. Sure, we’d argue over the miniscule things, but we never let it get this bad. I shouldn’t have let it get that bad. I should have manned up and told you why I was being distant towards you.

I never meant to hurt you. I really didn’t. But I know that I did break your heart. I could see it in the way you looked at me.

I’m not asking that you take me back, that would be pretty narcissistic of me, thinking that if I ask, you’ll just welcome me back with open arms.

I don’t expect that of you. I broke your heart. I know that.

All I’m asking is that you give me the chance, at some point, to let me put it back together.

(Hopefully) Yours,

H

He sealed the envelope and worked up the courage to drive to your house. He didn’t even know if you’d be there. Or if you were, if you’d be there alone. You could have easily moved on from him. It wouldn’t have been hard for you. Any guy would be blessed to have you in their life. 

He just hoped that you had been missing him even a fraction of how much he missed you.

Before he could overthink it too much, he grabbed the envelopes, sought out his keys, and made his way to the house you used to share.

On the drive there, he left the radio off, not being able to concentrate on anything else besides the worry that you hated him.

You couldn’t hate him. Could you?

Harry couldn’t remember the drive to your house being so long. How did he have this much time to doubt everything?

He was not like this. He never doubted himself. He always had faith in himself. He knew that people liked him, and he took a certain amount of pride in that. 

But he was none of those things around you. He was anxious. He wanted you to come back to him. He was hoping that maybe, just maybe, you would give him a second chance. 

It’s going to be fine. She’ll read the letters and you’ll at least get to see her face one more time, Harry says continuously to himself as he walks up to your door and rings the bell.

*

You hadn’t invited anybody over. You don’t know who could possibly be at your door. Unless it was those girl scouts coming back to sell their cookies. Little do they know that you don’t even like them. Harry’s the one with the love for them. He’s the one that buys every box that they have on them every time.

You groan and pull yourself out of bed, trudging to the door to break the news to the girls. You expect a few hurt faces that’ll guilt you into buying a few boxes and giving them away.

What you don’t expect is to find the curly haired man when you open the door.

You open your mouth to speak, but he stops you, “Look, I know. You don’t want to see me. I just- I need to give you these. I-I’ve been trying to leave you be but,” he reached his free hand up to run through his unruly curls, “I can’t stop thinking about you. And I know, I messed up, I don’t deserve to even be here right now.” He pauses for a moment to take a deep breath and you try to speak again but he’s faster. “I don’t expect anything, I just ask that you read these letters. It’s all the things I didn’t say. I know that doesn’t make up for it, I just want you to read them. Please.”

“H…” you breathe, trying to find the right words.

“Anyway, yeah. Um, here.” he hands you the letters and turns around, “I’m going to give you time to read them. If you wanna talk, you have my number. If not, I get it.”

You watch him walk for a moment, wondering if what you’re about to do is a good idea. But honestly, you don’t care. You miss him way too much to let him walk away again.

“H, wait!” he stops but doesn’t turn around. “Come back, please. I miss you. I just- I’m sorry.” He turns around and slowly makes his way towards you, as if moving with caution.

“Really? Are you going to read the letters still?” He looks nervous, waiting for you to confirm or deny whether you’re playing with his heart.

“I’m still going to read the letters, I just want you here with me.” 

*

He can feel himself relax, his mind slowing down the marathon it had been running since he began his journey to your house. 

You were going to read the letters. You missed him. Maybe you would give him a chance.

He hoped so. God, he hoped so. He wanted you back so bad that he would do literally anything in the world to have you back in his arms.

He would spend his entire life making it up to you, whether you were his or not.

*

You open the first letter and begin to read.

Y/N,

So I know we’re not talking, but everyone says maybe this will help me. My therapist says maybe this can make it easier for me to sleep. So here I go.

I’m such an idiot, I messed up the best thing in my life. I see you in everything that I do and everywhere that I go. I’m trying to give you your space. Trying to let you have whatever you want. I’m trying so hard darling. But it’s so hard.

I’m not used to sleeping in a bed without you in it. I’m not used to not having you to curl around and the scent of your shampoo to breathe in. 

I can’t leave the house without thinking that you should be coming with me. I can’t drive without wishing that you were in my passenger seat.

I can’t do this without you. I don’t know how I ever lived without you before, and I definitely don’t know how I’m going to do so now.

I guess I’m going to try to sleep now.

Yours

Harry

You look up at him with tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything wrong?” He questions.

“You haven’t been able to sleep.” You crawl from your place on the couch over to him, looking at him for consent before cuddling into his side.

“It’s alright, darling. I deserved it.” He squeezes you closer to his body and you can feel every muscle in your body relax. “You still have more letters to read.” He whispers.

“Can I read them tomorrow? Missed you too much to be reading anything when I could be looking at your face.” You mumble, causing him to chuckle and look down at you.

“We can do whatever you want, darling.” He says, granting you a small smile.

“Good, because I wanna cuddle in our bed and actually get a good night's sleep.” You yawn, sleep already coming easier to you now that he was back.

“That sounds good to me, love. Come on, let’s go to bed.” He picks you up, carrying you to your room. And that’s when it hits you.

You have Harry back.

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#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #one direction #one direction x reader #one direction smut #one direction fluff #one direction angst #2020

[morganaspendragonss]

For the bad things happen bingo: Suicide attempt and 911 lone star? :o

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: suicide attempt - so sorry that this took so long, anon! hopefully you see this, and i hope you like it! 

also written for two anons who requested 48 -  “Hey! Hey, wake up! How many of these did you take, huh? No, no, don’t go back to sleep, you need to stay awake for me.” from this list

@911lonestarangstweek day 5:  Mental health + “I’m so tired of feeling like this.”

trigger warning for: suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression, drug addiction and drug abuse, overdosing - this is not a happy one folks, stay safe out there

ao3 | 1.9k

TK stumbles through the streets, one hand twitching anxiously at his side, the other clenched around the bottle of pills in his pocket. He’s getting strange looks from the few other people out at this hour, but he doesn’t care, he just - he just needs to find somewhere. A quiet place where he can lie down and let it all end.

He thinks he’s made his way out of the boundaries of Carlos’s regular beat now. He can’t be certain; he’s not really been paying attention to where he’s going, but he’s been walking for long enough, he hopes. If there’s one wish he has, one last prayer, it’s that Carlos isn’t the one who has to respond to this. TK knows he’s going to cause a lot of pain tonight, but if he can spare his husband this, then it’ll all be okay.

His wedding band rests heavy on his hand, it has for a while now. He’d contemplated leaving it at home, but he hadn’t quite been able to bear the thought of dying without it. It’s selfish, as is everything he’s doing, but TK doesn’t have it in him anymore to not be selfish. 

Carlos will be okay without him. He’ll be better, even; after all, who wants a husband who can barely get out of bed most mornings and never wants to be intimate anymore? 

He’s just so tired, and he knows that he’s hurting people. Carlos’s smiles are all forced these days and he has constant worry lines around his mouth and eyes, looking at TK as if he’s going to shatter at any moment. Captain Vega had told him in a gentle tone that still brooked no argument to take time off until he got his head back on straight, after a series of bad calls led to him breaking down in the middle of shift. His dad keeps hugging him, the tightness in his body when he does so telling TK everything he needs to know.

Even his therapist had said she was worried about him; TK knows that’s her job, but he still balked at the idea of being worried over.

It’s better this way. 

For everyone.

There’s a mercifully empty alley to his left and TK ducks into it, pressing himself against the brick and sliding to the cold ground. He pulls the pills out of his pocket, turning the bottle over in his hands, the rattling cutting through the air like a knife.

It steals TK’s breath, his body starting to tremble. There’s a part of him, still, that doesn’t want to do this. Or, not like this, at least. There’s a part of him that wants to hold onto his sobriety, the one thing in his life that he hasn’t managed to screw up yet. But… But this is the easiest way. He’s an old hat at overdoses by now; he knows how they work, what to expect. It’ll be the peace he’s been craving for so long.

He feels weirdly calm as he shakes the pills into his hand, staring at them for a brief second before dry swallowing them, a couple at a time. The overdose probably won’t kick in for a while, but that’s okay. He can wait.

Time blurs around TK as he starts to drift, his mind wandering down the well-trodden paths of how he’s not good enough, how he’s a terrible husband and son and friend, how he should just go ahead and relieve everyone from the burden of him already.

I know, he thinks irritably. What do you think I’m doing this for?

His mind, of course, doesn’t listen. Figures.

His body starts to list sideways and TK doesn’t fight it, letting himself droop until he’s half-sitting, half-lying on the ground. Any other time, it would probably be uncomfortable, but it’s not like these things matter anymore.

It won’t be long now, he thinks. His brain has gone all foggy and it’s getting harder and harder to string coherent thoughts together. His eyelids droop, sleep tugging at him, and TK goes gladly towards it, sparing one last thought for Carlos, holding his face in his memory for a moment before he lets go for good.

He loves him, so much. He wrote as much, in the note that’s folded up in his back pocket - he hadn’t wanted to risk Carlos coming home from work and finding it, finding him, before it was time - and he just hopes that the words will be enough. Carlos will probably hate him for a while after this, but that’s okay, too; TK deserves no less for everything he’s put his husband through recently.

Distantly, as though underwater, he registers the slamming of a car door, too close to the entrance of the alley for comfort. TK prays they won’t spot him - he just needs a little more time - but then a light falls on him, and a voice he’d hoped not to hear reaches his ears.

“TK?” Carlos’s voice trembles, and a few tears slip down TK’s cheeks. He can’t see his husband, his back turned towards him, but he knows so well the expression that’s probably gracing his face right now. He wants to tell Carlos to turn around and go home, but his tongue feels like it’s made of lead, and Carlos wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

TK doesn’t hear him come closer, but suddenly hands are on him, turning him over and manhandling him until he’s lying in Carlos’s lap. Carlos’s face swims above him, appearing and disappearing as TK’s blinks turn slow. He looks frantic, speaking into the radio on his chest; the last thing TK wants right now is an ambulance, but he just has to hope they won’t get here quick enough.

It seems likely, as his eyes shut and he finds he doesn’t have the energy to peel them back open. Carlos’s hands on him are more like a memory now; he feels like he’s floating somewhere outside his body, drifting further away with each second, each breath.

“Hey! Hey, wake up! How many of these did you take, huh?” Carlos’s voice has risen in pitch, roughly shaking TK until he cracks his eyes back open. He’s never been able to deny Carlos anything, after all.

TK doesn’t answer the question - he couldn’t even if he was able to form words. Instead, he attempts a smile, wanting to reassure his husband that it’s okay, even if he can’t say it out loud. The smile barely lasts a second before it drops, his whole face going slack and his eyes sliding shut again. 

And, this time, TK’s sure they won’t be opening again.

“No, no, don’t go back to sleep, you need to stay awake for me,” Carlos begs, something warm and wet hitting TK’s face. “Please, TK, the ambulance is nearly here. Just hold on, you’ve got to hold on.”

He can’t, though.

And it’s okay. 

It’ll all be okay.

*

It’s been four days.

Once upon a time, Carlos had thought that watching as his almost-boyfriend was whisked off in an ambulance, bullet wound in his chest, would be the worst moment of his life. Then TK had been kidnapped, and Carlos had spent hours not knowing where he was, if he was alive or dead, and he thought - this is it. Nothing can top this.

But, having to perform CPR on his husband, having to hold him as he slipped away in his arms?

That was worse than even his nightmares.

At least, worse than the nightmares from before. His nightmares now are filled with that night, except this time, TK is already gone before Carlos gets to him. Every night, Carlos clutches his cold body to his chest, and every night he startles awake with tears on his face, fresh ones appearing when he catches sight of the empty space next to him in bed.

He’d sleep at the hospital if he could, but apparently there are restrictions surrounding the ward TK’s been placed in. Carlos doesn’t really understand it and the nurse had looked apologetic when she’d explained, but that’s just the way it is, Mr. Strand-Reyes.

He hates it, but there’s nothing he can do, save for being there as often as he can. He’s spent almost every waking hour at TK’s bedside ever since it happened, and it’s been excruciating.

It’s been four days, TK awake and lucid for three of them, but he hasn’t said a word. Carlos has tried getting him to talk, Owen too, but he just won’t. It’s wearing on them all, and Carlos has begun to hate the sound of his own voice, though he infinitely prefers it to the crushing silence that otherwise envelopes the room. He talks about anything he can think of - work, their friends, the soccer game playing on the television even though TK hates sport. The only topic he avoids is the future, because none of them have any idea what that future looks like anymore.

The doctors won’t even tell them when TK might be allowed to leave. Carlos gets it, he does, but it kills him inside. 

He just wants TK to be okay.

“I’m sorry that you found me.”

Carlos’s head snaps up, eyes wide as he looks at TK. His voice is empty and rough from disuse, his gaze turned blankly to the ceiling, but he - he spoke, which is something Carlos has been praying for for days.

“I’m not,” Carlos says softly, hardly daring to breathe for fear of upsetting whatever it is that’s caused this change. He reaches out hesitantly to caress TK’s face and is rewarded when he doesn’t flinch away, though Carlos isn’t sure that TK even registered the touch.

“You weren’t supposed to. No-one was.”

Carlos feels those words like a punch to the gut and he can’t help the gasp that escapes his lips, nor the tears that begin to obscure his vision. He’s done his fair share of crying over the past few days, but now he just wipes his eyes impatiently, desperate to keep talking.

“You’re going to be okay, TK.” He forces a wobbly smile, moving his hand to TK’s hair. “You’ll be home before you know it, and everything will be okay, you’ll see.”

“You can’t promise that,” TK fires back, an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. Then, just as quickly, he deflates, all the life going out of him again. “I’m so tired of feeling like this, ‘Los.”

Carlos’s already shattered heart breaks a little more, choking back a sob as he searches his husband’s face. “Then we’ll help you get better,” he asserts, trying to sound strong, like the rock TK needs him to be. “Me, your dad, the team - we’ll all help. I promise.”

TK slowly shakes his head. “I don’t want to get better. I don’t want to have to start all over again.” He curls up, turning on his side until his back is to Carlos, Carlos’s hand falling away to the mattress. 

TK’s next words are muffled by the pillow, but they seem to echo around the room, lodging deep in Carlos’s chest.

“I just want it all to stop.”

And, when the silence returns, Carlos doesn’t try to get rid of it. There’s nothing left for him to say that means anything; nothing left for him to do, except watch over his husband, and hope that they can make it through this.

He’s not ready to let go yet.

#bad things happen bingo #911lsangstweek #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #tk x carlos #911ls #lone star #tw suicide #tw drug abuse #tw suicide attempt #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #anonymous #userkimmy #userjillian #tuserpaige #reyeslonestartag

[howlingsaturn]

the wounds that keep on bleeding (2.2k)

i need a scene where tk comforts carlos and since im not sure the show will deliver, i decided to write one. trigger warning for mentions of domestic violence. i do not go into detail but please stay safe everyone. <3

 ao3 link if you wanna say hi.

darling, only you can ease my mind

help me leave these lonely thoughts behind

when they pull me under,

and I can feel my sanity start to unwind

darling, only you can ease my mind

— Ease My Mind, Ben Platt

Carlos normally prides himself on being a positive and optimistic guy. He's able to find hope and happiness even in the darkest of times and if his friends and family are struggling, he's always just around the corner, ready to offer company and encouraging words. It's not like it's a hardship for him, he's always looked out for other people, it's part of who he is.

But there are days, as rare as they might be, where Carlos doesn't know what's up or down, right or wrong. There are days where he too will drown in sadness or repressed anger, where the world is so dark, he fears he'll never find his way back to the light. The thing is, he's always dealt with these days on his own, he knows the protocol. But now there's someone else, someone who is so closely tied to his life and emotions that Carlos has no way of hiding himself away until the storm passes.

But he tries. He tries because the possibility that he'll sweep TK up in his hurricane of emotions without meaning to, that he'll pull him down right with him, is outright terrifying. And it's not that he thinks TK is weak and won't be able to handle it but because Carlos feels so strongly, so wholly, so all-consumingly. He knows of the weight that it carries, how much strength it costs, and it wouldn't be the first time someone ran away from him because of it. He didn't blame them and he wouldn't blame TK if he decided that it was too much but Carlos has become selfish where TK is concerned. Carlos knows, with shocking clarity, that a world without TK in his life is not one he wants to be a part of. 

It was only a matter of time before the hurricane hit. It's not like Carlos didn't expect things to go bad one day, he just didn't think it was going to be as terrible as it ended up being. They got the call halfway into his shift and it had shaken him up so badly, his body hadn't stopped trembling even after he had sat down on his desk hours later. His boss had taken one look at him and sent him home with 11 hours left of his shift. Carlos didn't even argue, simply packed his stuff, dragged his heavy feet outside to his car and drove himself home on autopilot.  

And so when Carlos arrives at his place in the early morning hours to find TK fast asleep on the left side of his bed, something in him crumbles; quiet and slow, like leaves falling from a tree. He stands there on the threshold, staring at TK's sleeping form like it's the only thing holding him together, and doesn't have the strength to take the last couple of steps to warmth and comfort. He feels his shoulders droop, his body growing heavy with exhaustion and he turns around, heading back into the darkness he came from. 

He sits down on the couch, his elbows resting on his thighs and his head pillowed on the palms of his hands, and wills his racing thoughts to calm. He feels his heart beat frantically in his chest as if it's trying to claw its way out and Carlos feels a coldness seep into his skin that he knows will linger even long after this day has ended. It's always like that and still, it doesn't make it easier. The pain in his heart continues to grow, leaving his chest a gaping wound, and Carlos feels himself slipping into a deep, dark hole. 

It's not until someone calls out to him, his name spoken in a hushed voice, that Carlos' mind stops drifting and returns to the here and now. He looks up with great difficulty, his head like stone on his neck and squints his eyes to see in the dark. TK's figure comes into view then, blurry at first but as he steps into the cone of light provided by the small lamp on the living room table, Carlos is granted a pair of beautiful green eyes and feels a little bit of sanity return to his frantic mind. 

"What are you doing up?" he asks, looking away quickly, and as his voice cracks slightly, he clears his throat. "You should go back to bed."

TK stands in front of him, his eyes a little foggy from sleep and frowns, reaching out a tentative hand to brush his fingers against Carlos' wrist. 

"No use with you being down here, is there?" he says and Carlos' throat closes up with emotions he can't grasp. He wants to reach out for TK and pull him close but he also wants to leave and hide himself away where no one would find him. 

"Are you okay?" TK asks, worry etched into his voice and Carlos tenses with a new wave of anxiety. 

"I'm fine," he blurts out far too quickly and judging by how TK's frown deepens, he knows he's been caught in his lie. "Go back to sleep, you've got a shift in a couple of hours." 

TK considers him for a few seconds but then he merely shrugs. "I don't sleep well without you anyway so I'd rather stay right here with you." 

Carlos doesn't respond, blindly staring at a grey spot on the floor and wondering if TK is going to let it go and go back to bad. As he watches TK shift from one foot to the other, he knows that's not going to happen. 

"Do you mind if I?" TK asks after a few minutes of silence, stepping right into Carlos' space and he's so close all of a sudden that Carlos can't help but look up. TK's gaze is indecipherable but he raises his hand in question, leaving Carlos to stare at him confusedly. He smiles a little then and if Carlos wasn't so out of his mind he would've sworn he saw his cheeks turn pink. TK puts his palm against Carlos' chest, pushing a little, and Carlos' body goes easily. TK plants himself on Carlos' lap then, winding an arm around Carlos' shoulder and as he presses close to get himself comfortable, something in Carlos' chest flutters. He closes his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath in and TK watches him silently as he calms himself. When Carlos opens his eyes again TK is still looking at him. 

"Hi," he says sweetly and reaches out a hand, letting his fingers dance across Carlos' face. 

"Hi," Carlos breathes back, eyes roaming across TK's face in both gratitude and shock. His arms have found their way around TK's back like they were meant to hold him, fingers restlessly tapping against the soft fabric of what Carlos knows to be one of his old hoodies. It's a little baggy across the shoulders and chest but TK doesn't seem to mind. They smell like you and they're comfortable, he had shrugged when Carlos had asked him about it and Carlos remembers the warm feeling that had settled in his gut upon seeing TK in his clothes for the first time. He really wishes he could have that feeling back but all he feels right now is emptiness. 

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong?" TK asks and there it is again, that ugly feeling of dread. His fingers flex instinctively but if his grip on TK's hip is painful, TK doesn't let it show. Carlos' anxiety must show on his face though because TK's thumb over his brow stills, his whole face etched in worry. 

"Babe." 

Carlos has to squeeze his eyes shut again, willing down the panic that bubbles in his gut but as TK presses gentle kisses to his forehead and cheek, his hands carefully framing Carlos' face, the panic settles again. He needs to tell him, he thinks, he needs to get it out before he drowns in it. 

"There was an emergency," he croaks out before he can change his mind but pictures start flooding his head and his throat closes up again. His eyes shoot open in fright but TK is right there to soothe him.

"You're okay," he says, "You're with me. Nothing's gonna happen to you, I promise." 

And something about these words makes Carlos' mind stop spinning. He looks at TK then, really looks at him, as if he's seeing him for the very first time and all of the anger, all the hopelessness and sadness dissipate into resentment.

"It's not about what happens to me," he confesses, "It's about what happens to others when I'm not there to prevent it." 

TK's heart aches at the empty look he finds in Carlos' eyes and so he holds him a little tighter and kisses his head more fiercely. Carlos breathes him in and the hand that still rests on TK's hip flexes with anxiety. He wills his troubling thoughts away and instead allows himself to take comfort in TK's gentle touches. TK is infinitely patient with him and after a few more moments of silence, Carlos begins to explain. He tells TK about the emergency and the woman who called, fearing for her life. He describes how she looked when he arrived, how scared she was of Carlos getting too close and then he talks about the husband, blinded by rage, and how he tried to hurt Carlos too. He's quick to soothe a worried TK whose eyes have begun scanning him for injuries before Carlos could even finish his explanation. Carlos thinks about ending the story here, with the happy ending, but something in him urges him to continue, to talk about how this woman will probably never fully recover from what she experienced. TK says he can't know that; this woman is a survivor, she can overcome anything. And Carlos wants to agree, argue that yes, she is a survivor, but she'll spend the rest of her life questioning everything that led up to that day. Carlos knows, he's seen it up close, and TK squeezes the hand he's grabbed sometime during Carlos' explanation in a quick attempt to offer comfort.

"My sister is the strongest person I know," Carlos whispers, his voice wavering with emotion, "but she's never been the same since." 

TK nods in understanding, his own head a whirlwind of thoughts. He tries to find the right words knowing this is not something he can fix, that anyone can fix. 

"What happened to your sister is not your fault," TK argues and Carlos is already shaking his head in disagreement, "It's not! And what happened to that woman isn't either. Carlos, you saved her life today. That's a good thing." 

"Then why do I feel like my heart is split in two?" His voice breaks and Carlos knows that it'll take him a while to find it again. 

TK huffs out a shuddering breath and takes Carlos' face back into his hands, tilting his head up with gentle firmness. 

"Because you're a good person, Carlos, the best one I know, and you try to save as many people as you can because that's the kind of man that you are. But you're human. You can only do so much." 

Carlos looks at him and the pain TK finds in his eyes is palpable. It's a little shocking to him, how Carlos can hold himself together right now. There are tears in his eyes but not a single one falls and TK wonders if maybe this is what Carlos needs, to let go of all these emotions and just let himself be, no matter how violent and ugly it would turn out to be. But Carlos is still looking at him like he doesn't believe a word TK just said and TK simply can't let that stand. 

"How do you not realise how important and special you are?" 

Carlos shakes his head again but TK is quick to interfere. He leans forward, softly resting their foreheads together. 

"I need you to listen carefully to what I'm about to say, okay? You're a hero, Carlos, to so many people out there but especially to me." 

Carlos looks at him with wide eyes and TK swallows down the tears that threaten to fall. 

"You saved me," TK whispers, "So please let me save you too." 

As TK carefully reaches into Carlos' open wound, his aching heart now laid openly in the palms of TK's hands and Carlos' eyes a mirror to his own vulnerability, TK realises the depth of his feelings and finds himself unable to keep them to himself. 

"I love you," he breathes into the space between them and as he spreads balm on Carlos' wound, Carlos slowly starts to heal. His heart skips a beat in TK's gentle hands and then another, and another, until it finally returns to its old rhythm. Carlos reaches for TK then, pulling him down so their lips can meet and TK pours every bit of the love he feels into that kiss. As Carlos takes it all in, tugging TK close until there's no more space left, he realises that he's not alone and that what he does, who he is, is enough. At least for someone. And perhaps that is all he can ask for in times as dark and terrifying as these.

#lads we got all my favourite tropes with this one #im in desperate need of some carlos content #who would've thought #man they love each other a lot #tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #911ls fic #911ls #my writing #howlingsaturnsfics

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - let’s have a school romance

This work, 来场校园恋爱吧, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it!

[ VICTOR ] 

“Class President! Don’t mark my name down - I’m not late!” 

With the fastest speed you can manage, you bolt into the classroom. The moment you rush into your seat, the school bell signalling the start of class rings.

“Seven nineteen and fifty-eight seconds.” Victor tilts his head towards the watch strapped on his right wrist. “Four seconds later than yesterday.”

The intense exercise earlier leaves you taking in large breaths. Victor lets out a resigned sigh, then hands you the water bottle at the side of your bag.

Taking the bottle, you hurriedly down more than half of its contents before slowing down.

“In that case, I’ll sleep for one more second next time so I can make it to class just as the bell rings.” 

Taking the attendance record book from Victor and giving it a browse, you realise that your name isn’t in it.

“Victor, it’s really nice to be your girlfriend. I don’t have to worry about having my name taken down.”

“If you like it, I can write your name right now.” With a blank expression, he takes out a book and begins his morning reading.

“No no no, I don’t like it.” You shake your head as though its a rattle, fearing that your name would appear in that “honourable book”.

“Victor, your little sweetheart doesn’t have the strength to do the morning reading.” You plop onto the table weakly, sending signals to him with a wink.

He continues being immersed in that mandatory ancient poetry book, but his left hand reaches into the drawer, retrieving a lunchbox and handing it to you. Inside, there’s handmade Chinese dumplings.

“...”

Victor completely missed your point.

“I’ve already had breakfast.” You wink again, attempting to make him understand.

With a furrow of his brows, he finally channels a minute portion of his concentration off the book and onto you: “What do you want then?”

“I want... a kiss~”

“Dummy.”

[ GAVIN ]

“Gavin, why did you pick a fight with them?”

With an ache in your heart, you dip the cotton swab into hydrogen peroxide and disinfect his wound. He continues staring up at the sky, as though he can’t feel the stinging pain at all.

Gavin sits on the windowsill, catching a ginkgo leaf which drifts by. After ensuring that it’s clean, he inserts it into your hair.

Seeing that he isn’t responding, you raise your volume.

“Gavin, are you even listening to me!”

“I heard you.” His line of sight travels from outside the window to you. “They were bullying underclassmen.”

As expected. 

After helping others, your Gavin would always appear as though it wasn’t a big deal. He never tells anyone the reason why he gets embroiled into fights, and wounds of all sizes are always found on him. 

After a while, teachers and students assumed that he was nothing but a bad student - ignorant and incompetent, and only knowing how to stir up trouble.

But you know he isn’t like that.

“Gavin, have you ever thought about what you want to do in the future?”

Worried the application of medicine would hurt him, you find a conversation topic as a form of distraction.

“Police officer.”

Your hand pauses. It’s an answer you didn't expect, but a reasonable one. You continue.

“Why a police officer?”

“That way, I’ll be able to protect what I believe in, and protect... you.”

[ LUCIEN ]

“So not only did you not bring it, but you also didn’t do it?” Lucien carries a stack of workbooks, collecting them as he goes down the name list of students who have yet to submit theirs. When he sees his girlfriend’s name, an evident smile surfaces. 

“I’ll definitely submit it next Monday. Could the most handsome, best and smartest student let me off this time~” You end the sentence with an exaggerated curl of your voice, making you feel goosebumps all over.

You really shouldn’t have read those comics last night. Who knew they’d be so interesting that you’d almost forget to eat and sleep?

Lucien purses his lips and furrows his brows, pretending to be deeply troubled. “But this will make things difficult for me.”

“My dear classmate Lucien, could you kindly spare your adorable, beautiful girlfriend?” You blink at him, hoping your femininity can buy him over.

“If you simply use your words, there seems to be something missing.” He taps on the name list with his pen.

All right - looks like you’ll have to bribe him.

“One kiss?” You ask, testing the waters.

“I have to submit the name list to the teacher...”

You clench your teeth. “I’ll submit it to you over the weekend!”

“All right,” he crosses your name off the list neatly. Finding it slightly unpleasant, he erases your name completely and writes it in the list again.

“In order to prevent my adorable and beautiful girlfriend from forgetting again, get your workbook from home after school, and come to the library in the evening. I’ll watch you finish it.” 

Lucien smiles, his eyes crinkling as he pushes up the spectacles on his nose. “At the same time, you can return me the fifteen kisses you owe me from previous times.”

“...why do I feel like a fox which has been outsmarted by another fox?”

[ KIRO ]

“Kiro, are you sure we don’t need to hide properly? I felt like the Dean was looking at me weirdly, as though he’d send me to the office for a lecture in the next second.” You pull your hoodie over your head, covering most of your face.

“It’s all right Miss Chips. Don’t they always say that the most dangerous place is the safest? At night, the Dean usually goes to the artificial lake to catch couples. Intelligent people like us who take a stroll around the teaching building are not easy to get caught.” Kiro grips your hand tightly, assuring you with full confidence.

After hearing what he says, you loosen up slightly, hoping the Dean wouldn’t decide to patrol over at this area.

“Miss Chips, where should go this weekend? We’ve been to the amusement park, the aquarium, the zoo... why don’t we go to the Science Centre this time?” He suggests excitedly, his blue eyes slightly foggy under the moonlight.

“...all right.” You can’t bear to be a spoilsport considering how excited he looks, so you agree with a nod. As expected, his eyes crinkle. The flickering, scattered stars in the sky fall into his eyes, causing them to brim with gentleness.

“What are the two of you doing!” An enraged voice rouses the two of you from the warm ambience. Before you can react, you’re dragged along with Kiro as he breaks into a run.

“Miss Chips, run!” Kiro pulls you, sprinting into the forested area near the lake, hoping the Dean would shift his attention away from the both of you and to another couple.

“Kiro, I told you that the teaching building was too dangerous!” You gripe, running as fast as you can.

“Nothing will happen. When the Dean finds more targets in a while, he wouldn’t care about us.” Although he’s running furiously, he exudes a calm aura.

“Miss Chips, we’ll part ways in the forest later on, and we’ll meet in class~”

[ SHAW ]

Twice each week, the teacher in charge of the school orchestra would give you special piano lessons. Along with you, there’s also a senior from the music club.

So far, the most you’ve interacted with the senior has been a mere nod of the head. However, with the upcoming school celebration activity where the both of you would perform an ensemble, you gradually grow familiar with each other.

“It’s late. Want me to send you home?” The senior packs his violin, turning his head and looking at you with a gentle gaze.

“No need, my house is nearby.” You politely decline, signalling that you’re perfectly fine heading home by yourself.

After the senior leaves, you practise for another half an hour before shutting the lid of the piano and preparing to leave the music room.

“What’s your relationship with him?”

Right after stepping out of the music room, you find both of your hands clasped against the wall. Your instinctive reaction to such a fright is to shut your eyes. But after hearing the question, you flick open one eye to look at the other party. It’s the bass player one grade below you - Shaw.

“Are the two of you a couple?”

You catch a hint of nervousness in his sharp eyes.

“We’re not.” You can’t help but knit your brows together, feeling the pain in your back from the impact seep in.

The grip on your wrists loosens slightly, and he seems to release a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”

“Shaw, why haven’t you gone home yet? It’s late.” You rub your wrists, which have turned red.

“Nothing much. I just noticed that you haven’t left.” He picks up your bag, which had fallen to the ground earlier, and pats the dust off it. “Next time, stay away from that fellow.”

“Why?” You take your bag from him, walking out of the building together.

“Because you’re my girlfriend.”

“Hey, I haven’t even agreed-”

He interrupts before you finish.

“I’ve agreed, and that’s what matters. Let’s go - I’m sending you home.”

--

More translated and original works: here

-

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc kiro #mlqc shaw #mlqc gavin #cheri shortcake

[hanibalistic]

#ECECBE | YANG JEONGIN.

genre | fluff, a little angst, a little bittersweetness, royal au, arranged marriage au

word count | 1590

warning | none

note | this is not all fluff, unfortunately... i hope you still like it though! thank you for requesting (˶′◡‵˶)･:*:･。

request | @bangchansmullet0310​

you fixed the crooked tie sitting on jeongin's neck, and he looked at you as if he was about to lose something.

supposed, though, he would soon be losing something important to him.

the velvet box holding a shining ring, seated comfortably in the pocket of your blazer, one you would be handing to him soon at the alter of his wedding with the neighbor princess, was the prime object of the final stage of his teenage years.

"you look nervous," you commented as you placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your palm. you found that his heart was beating slow, at a normal pace.

"i'm not nervous, i just don't want to get married," he responded with a permanent frown, one he knew you would smack off of him when it was time for him to stand at the altar, waiting for the bride to arrive.

you heaved a sigh. you never had a say in such matter. being the palace staff, and the prince's escort, you were merely supposed to stand close to him and keep quiet as he goes about his daily tasks—studying, meeting, hunting, partying, and more studying. until one day, things took a turn, and instead of discussing management tactics, he got involved in a royal marriage.

you watched him try to argue his way out of the set proposal, one he had no choice but to accept. he whined and complained and stomped about not wanting to hold such heavy responsibility at the age of eighteen, but none of his tantrums have ever worked against his father's decision.

he was set to get married and that was it.

"princess kim is a lovely person, it may not be a bad thing to be married to her," you said softly, taking a gentle step back. "you may have fallen in love with her down the line anyway. why not consider this a jump in progress? just a little mess up in the timeline."

jeongin looked at you, his eyes wavering with both a bitter taste and an unexplainable love. it wasn’t about princess kim, he thought you understood. or perhaps you did understand, but the true reason behind him not wanting to get married was a matter so out of your control that you had to boil it down to him not loving his bride to be of useful comfort.

he thought you should know that this wasn’t about love. his unwillingness to get married—it wasn’t about affection. everyone was trying so hard to make it about love, but it wasn’t all about that. it was about the loss of his freedom after being tied to the title as a husband and a future king. 

it was about not being able to act like a teenager anymore and having his maturity overestimated simply because he turned eighteen. people have the misconception that once he turned eighteen he would understand things, he would know things, and he would get over things to abide by his duties. 

as if he wasn’t still the boy who cried at his desk because he couldn’t handle the schoolwork, as if he wasn’t still the boy who occasionally needed his tears and snot wiped by his best friend because he was too tired to do anything by himself, as if he wasn’t still the boy who had once sunk out the palace to buy medicine because the royal cabinet would ever open for a mere staff like you.

seeing that he had nothing else to say, but his expression remained groggy and grim, you pushed your hands together before your abdomen and you sighed. “it seems this calls for an emergency dance party.”

shaking his head to clear out his foggy thoughts, jeongin gave you a pointed glare before he asked, “a what?”

“an emergency dance party,” you said, leaving his side and moving over to the table.

jeongin watched as you knelt by a cabinet, mumbling something under your breath as you opened the doors and reached inside so you could pull out an old, dusty, vinyl record player. you set it on the top surface of the cabinet before kneeling again to search through the small collection someone had carelessly kept hidden in the room. 

“how is that going to help the situation right now?” he frowned when you began to pull the vinyl out of its packaging. 

“do you have any other suggestions, then, aside from escaping from the wedding?” you retorted casually as you carefully placed the vinyl on the player. you messed with the buttons and slowly pulled the headshell over to the vinyl. 

jeongin tilted his head to the side, his brows still furrowed when an upbeat instrumental song scratched to life with the old device. he didn’t feel like dancing at all, especially not to such a boppy, happy song. his head was still feeling gloomy and annoyed that he has to kiss a girl he’s not fond of in a few hours, there was absolutely no jumpy element in his limbs right now.

but you sure seemed swell. dressed in a pretty blazer, with little glittering badges pinned to your white shirt, and a pair of high-quality, velvety black pants that you would never be able to afford on your own. it was the royal groomsmen outfit jeongin had to beg his mother to convince his father to let you wear, and you looked unsurprisingly good in it.

"come on, jeongin, we have maxed out our solutions," you encouraged as you glided over to him in your expensive shoes. you grabbed a hold of his hands, bringing them up and putting him in a waltzing position. "dancing is all we have left."

his feet automatically moved with you. this wasn't the first time you two danced your sorrows away; he was trained to accompany you, his body knew how to match yours in a flowing rhythm. he knew how to dance with you, and he knew how to make himself feel okay when he danced with you.

it was all you two could do. dancing with each other, shaking the woes away from your body, and drowning in music, as well as the absurdity of your impromptu dance moves. it was all you two have left to do with each other before you send him off to his future wife, and you would no longer hold the duty of being by his side twenty-four-seven.

it would be a big step for both of you, so you two have to dance out the fear of unfamiliarity and change together.

"i don't really like this song!" he exclaimed after you two separated from each other.

"it's either this or some sad violin, you pick!"

jeongin grinned, trying to even out his pants as he jumped and spun and kicked like the child he still was. "maybe we should have an emergency crying party! with sad songs playing and we cry more than we have to."

you raised your brows, tapping your feet and high-fiving him when you two brushed shoulders. one twirl after another, you finally made your way back to his side. standing before him, the proximity comfortable and friendly, and you giggled. "i will consider that."

his chest heaved with huffs of short breathes—moving so much in such tight clothing was not the best idea. he would probably have to fix himself up again, but it felt worth it in return for a burst of sunshine indoors. you read his thoughts vaguely, and you reached up to slightly redo his messy hair.

jeongin stared at you then, and you smiled with a brief look into his eyes before you returned to his hair. 

you weren’t afraid of his eyes anymore, you had not been for a long time. he wasn’t sure when he noticed that and how long it took him to get used to it, but you could look into his eyes now. and the swirling in his chest, the awful swirling he could never get tired of, that one deeper part of him that he would keep with him forever, made him realize one simple thing.

maybe this is about his disappointment in realizing that his affection for you could never go further than this despite him wanting to, in knowing that he wanted to fall in love with you, in ways more than being best friends and being partners in crime, but the chance would soon be ripped away from him because of an arranged marriage.

“hey.”

he looked at you, asking you to speak.

your hand trailed down his hair, the tenderness of your nails rolling past his skin in a haunting sensation. you might have heard his mind, you might have known that he once had the tendency to trip head over heels for you, and you might know that he would restrict himself from that now. but you showed nothing of it; everything bright in your eyes was only directed toward him and not yourself.

“i’m still going to be here even after you get married,” you said.

jeongin smiled. it wasn’t bittersweet, he was happy. he still wasn’t fond of getting married, for sure, but he was happy that you were here to walk him through everything. he knew he would still have someone to talk to, and perhaps he could change up his pace and anticipate falling in love with someone else instead.

he leaned forward and bumped his forehead against yours, laughing. “thank you.”

because maybe this is about love.

#stayhavennet #inkidz #jeongin imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #jeongin x reader #jeongin x y/n #jeongin x you #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz x reader #i.n x reader #i.n imagines #i.n x you #jeongin scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #i.n scenarios #jeongin blurbs #stray kids blurbs #skz blurbs #stray kids #skz #jeongin #i.n #stray kids fluff #skz fluff

[fandomsilhouette]

meet me halfway (i hope you'll stay) part iii

Tick tick tick tick, how the hourglass sand sticks to the walls of glass like desperate clinging hope no matter how the time will pass, en masse, to the ticking of the sand sinking so low like their hopes dashed down against the rocks, left wrecked by the ruins of the talks they haven’t had, aren’t they sad? Too bad. 

Happy @felinettenovember​, y’all! We made it to the angst, yayyy! Don’t worry though, there’s still one more worst to come and then we can start feeling better. I know you’re really looking forward to that sweet sweet pain, y’know. @musicfren​ was actually helpful today and ran tense checks and moral support pitstops and this would not have gotten done without him. 

Part 1 here. Part 2 here. Part 3 below. Part 4-6 coming.

Marinette passes by Felix in the halls like two ships passing in the dead of night, ghostly in the smog and the smoke and the foggy cloudy muggy wreckage of their relationship, disoriented without the north star of their steady affection to guide them home.

She keeps turning to show him a trinket or a toy, adrenaline pumping for the way his eyes light up at the thought of something special just for the two of them to share, and finds herself on the downswing of a bad day when he’s not there to share with.

He looks translucent, like if she put her hand to his chest she would push right through, and she wants to shove him backwards, make him feel as miserable as she does no matter the neutral smug grin on his face he maintains, and doesn’t because none of her words and none of her wishes would connect with a body with no soul left in it. Marinette has so many words swirling around in her head she can’t get herself to think, and none of them are hers: civilians and akumas and reporters screaming Ladybug’s name, half of them blurring into Alya’s intonation like a nightmare she can’t escape, her teachers and parents and friends and their heavy disappointment in her infinite, unending clumsiness, her chronic lateness, and always, always Felix’s.

When was it that his voice in her mind was a good thing? Marinette doesn’t remember.

Underneath it all runs a current split in half and looped back on itself tighter and tighter until it chokes on itself, stealing all her speech with it. How does she say she loves him, she misses him, she needs him, without telling him it’s okay to say what he did? How does she hold her ground without losing him in turn?

Just once, once she wants to make a decision and let the cost fall on someone else’s shoulders but she burdens the weight and balances her pros and her cons and lets the scales tip where they may. She’s Ladybug. She should be used to it.

She’s not.

Felix looks at her and misses her, desperate for her hand in his or her smile his way, or, when he’s honest with himself, her smile to anyone as long as it reaches her eyes again, how long has it been since it’s been seen? He looks at her and burns with rage and resentment, and wants to scream. Doesn’t she know how wrong she is? How can she defend a false hero swinging wildly from one extreme to another as the metronome ticks down to doomsday? Felix feels off balance, torn in so many directions he cannot find his way home in his own body. There’s not enough space in him to hold his own self and these emotions, and one of those cannot leave. The other, therefore, has to.

Winter break comes and goes and Felix swears up and down his father has kept him too busy to come out. Two weeks later back at school and looking at Marinette is like static, a blurry image and a carefully curated emptiness he tries very hard to remember how to fill.

There’s nothing left to fill it but with that unsteady blankness in between stubborn pride and overwhelming affection. Felix learns to operate around the constant gaping ache of a void where his best friend used to live, and functions when he cannot thrive. He refuses to admit the way it hurts, to have lost the person most important in his life: acute and sharp and insistent but diffuse across his body like it can’t decide where to hurt him worst.

(no, he knows, the worst is the way she doesn’t smile anymore, the way misery is etched across her every expression and the way he knows it isn’t on his own features, and the way he knows she’s terrified she never meant anything to him at all)

Marinette and Felix orbit each other, a careful dance around and across each other’s pass, ever so careful not to crash, collide back into each other because the gravity of affection is vast and dangerous, and lapping at their feet, cloyingly sweet. The scales of balance teeter, precarious, and any wrong move will make them slip.

They both hope it tips in their favor, and say nothing at all, terrified that a word will tip it away, avert their gazes in class and in the halls, and refuse to see the truth in each other’s eyes. They miss each other. There is something to talk about.

There are no words left to say.

#Notte Writes #Fanfiction #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #ML #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous: Adventures Of Ladybug And Chat Noir #Felix #PV Felix #Felix Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Felix/Marinette #Felinette #Ghost Ships #And Ghost Selves #And Infinite Tender Longing #Felinette Month 2020 Day 27 #Felinette Month 2020

[jellyfishloveletterghosts]

Work It Out Part 1

This started in the tags for this post by @pr1ncesteve but tumblr cut me off so🤷‍♀️

Warnings for unsafe workout practices and blowjobs, Billy calls Steve a bitch and he’s into it.

Work It Out Part 1

Steve does not know why he is doing this, it is a bad idea.

They should not be telling Max anything but Lucas already let the cat out of the bag, so showing her the real deal will not make things worse, right?

Steve is not so sure, but the kid had been insistent and begging, so here Steve is knocking on Billy Hargrove’s door.

The Camaro is in the driveway so Steve knows Billy is home he just really hopes Max is the one to answer the door.

But Max does not answer the door. 

No sweaty mid workout Billy does and like Steve tries not to stare but Billy’s shirt is sticking and clinging and it is easy to get caught up in it.

He knows better than to look during gym, just a stolen glance here and there, but there are no classmates here to catch him and he forgets himself as he follows Billy, who does not even ask why he is here, inside.

Steve forgets words, brain going foggy, jaw going slack as Billy picks up the bench-press bar like it is nothing, more weight on it than what Steve is composed of and it gives him thoughts.

He just stands there watching as Billy slowly starts moving through his reps, getting sweatier and sweatier by the minutes.

He has forgotten all about Max and the reason he is here. 

Billy grins, licks over his teeth, dick rising in his loose shorts at the hungry look in Steve’s eyes “See something you like pretty boy?”

“Yeah.” Billy is surprised by how easy the breathy little reply comes as Steve’s eyes drop lower, lower to where Billy’s dick is tenting his shorts.

“It’s all for you, come and get some.” That is all of the motivation Steve’s horny brain needs to move closer, to drop to his knees and shuffle until his nose is pressed against Billy’s clothed dick.

Steve moans at the scent of him, all sweat and cologne, as Billy keeps doing reps, slow and steady like he is unaffected.

Billy makes a noise of encouragement in a state of disbelief over how easy it is to get King Steve to drop to his knees.

Steve mouths at the cloth separating him from Billy’s dick, sucking at the tip soaking the fabric with his spit, keeps going until he tastes the barest hint of pre.

He wants more, wants all of it, as his hands find resting places right above Billy’s knees. 

Steve uses his teeth to pull the waistband of Billy’s shorts down, danger of the weight moving right above his head just adding to the heat in his belly.

Billy’s dick springs free smearing pre against Steve’s nose as it goes, the scent of him stronger without the cotton barrier, all musk and pre and Steve is salivating.

“Jesus fucking christ, knew you were a bitch from the moment I first saw you. I knew you’d be the best fucking bitch around here.” Billy groans out, hands tightening on the bar. 

Steve groans at the words before moving to take Billy into his mouth, moaning around Billy’s girth, heavy on his tongue. 

It is a lot and Steve cannot suck all of Billy down like he wants to, not if he does not want to choke. 

The thought sends heat in his belly, but he is not ready for that, not yet, another time definitely, he definitely wants Billy to make him choke on it in the future.

Steve brings one hand up to fist around the base of Billy’s cock, the way girls have done to him plenty of times in the past.

Steve starts bobbing his head, moving his hand in time, as drool slips down his chin, dick hard and leaking against the seam of his tight pants.

Billy is getting close, it has been a long time since he has gotten a blowjob from someone he actually finds attractive and this situation with Steve is peak fantasy for him, he has been thinking about it since he first saw Steve at Tina’s party.

Steve startles as the weighted bar hits the ground with a loud bang a foot or so behind him, denting the wood where it lands.

Steve nearly pulls completely off of Billy before a hand in his hair pulls him back, eyes sliding up to see Billy looking down at him with hooded eyes.

Billy’s free hand pets over Steve’s jaw, his cheek, thumbing around his lips before pressing in just to Steve’s mouth stretch even wider.

Steve moans and Billy spurts pre right down his throat.

Steve chokes a little, eyes going wet as he breathes through his nose hard, still bobbing his head, tongue working around Billy’s length. 

“Oh fuck baby, keep your mouth open.” Steve’s dick kicks hard at the words, jaw going slack as Billy pulls his dick out, he wants it back.

Billy wraps his hand around his cock, two storks and he is painting over Steve’s pretty face, some shooting in his mouth, dripping down his chin, dripping off onto his preppy polo shirt. 

Steve keeps his jaw hanging open, tilting his chin up to keep the cum in his mouth from escaping, eyes going up to where Billy is looking down at him, eyes blown wide, hungry.

Billy is going to lose his fucking mind, finding Steve in a sheltered little town like Hawkins, a fucking wet dream down on his knees waiting for direction, direction from Billy.

Billy strokes his hand over Steve’s cheek and jaw again smearing cum into his skin, before thumbing at Steve’s cum slick bottom lip “Swallow.” Billy groans when Steve immediately does as he is told.

Salty a little biter, Steve hums with approval and wants more, tongue coming out to lick over what he can catch from his upper lip and chin.

Billy sits down heavily on the edge of the weight bench, hands still on Steve, he uses the one in Steve’s hair to pull him up.

“Get up here and ride my thigh, I want to see you cum in your pants pretty boy.” Billy rasps and Steve is on him in a second eager or so eager to comply. 

Now with a Part 2

#harringrove #Jellyghostfic #fanfiction #st fic

[redevenir]

faintheart in the dark

hoshi x reader

wc : ~ 1800

a/n : @tearsofsyrup let’s just say it’s for you dear, since your tiger agenda blog inspired me. i wish you the best as usual, and hopefully this will feel like a little treat after a good day! not at all a horror au bc that dumb fucker doesn’t know what fear is anyway. Very self indulgent. Also I didn’t proofread so sorry for the faults! 

The bus ride is quiet, a nice relief after Soonyoung’s busy day. Still, it’s not as satisfying as it would be to go home, cook up something quick and warm, drown himself under the shower and crash into his bed. He wonders when he became like that. Working for school after working for a minimum wage, and feeling like this is it. The bus stops pass one after the other until he finally reaches the humanities’ campus. Despite his fatigue and his hunger, he wastes no time in going to the cafeteria – it’s almost closing hour and he knows how annoying last minute customers are – and makes his way directly toward the library. He mindlessly watches the humanities’ building as he passes by. He notices the glass door of the library, goes in, allows himself a brief nod of the head to whoever is at the front desk – maybe a new one ? And they still haven’t fixed that broken ceiling light. He heads to the history of art section, he takes his things out of his bag and sets them up on a table, his pencil case, his notebook, takes out an imposing History of rural theater from the shelves and resumes to work. The pipes are unusually squeaky, but he manages to focus on his task, takes notes for his paper. There is a charm to his subject, he thinks. It is a nice change, to be able to talk about less conventional art, a more popular one. It reminds him of home. He allows himself a quick look over the rest of the tables. A usual, empty Tuesday night. The light flashes in irregular patterns. There are enough others so it’s far from dark, but it is annoying enough to distract Soonyoung from reading. Sighing, he scans the hall again, as a treat. Far away, in the medieval History section, he notices your bag and his lips twitch upward. It’s true you chose that Colors from the Middle-age class, but it’s so unexpected he keeps forgetting about it. Jun sometimes reminds him when he talks about whatever assignments the professor gives you. It’s still weird to think that you and Junhui see each other every week, regardless of Soonyoung, whereas he would go out of his way to go the same parties as you, to get a chance to see you. He closes his eyes, just for a bit. Once he’ll be done, he’ll come over and say hello. As a treat.

When Soonyoung wakes up, he is in the dark. He narrows his eyes in hopes of seeing through, and notices the flickering light by the entrance. Pressing his lips together, he rubs his fingers on his temples. There is no point in staying any longer. He doesn’t bother to look at the time on his phone, puts everything back in his back, leaves the history of theater on the table, and, before leaving, tries to remember where the bathrooms are. Following his foggy intuition, he slaloms among the tables, bumping a few chairs on the way. There is something unsettling about being there after hours. Libraries are supposed to be quiet places for sure, but the dark silence in which he is really far from his habit. He licks his lips, tries to be careful, and with a yawn he reaches the corridor. The soft green light of the emergency exit illuminates it. Here is his way out.

Dum. Dum. Dum. The sound of your heart is deafening. Your bronchi burn, yet you try to control the rhythm of your breathing, the sound of it, even though the alarm ringing in your head shrieks there is no time for this. From what are you even hiding yourself? Sweat runs cold down your spine, you smell it. You want to go home. You want to get out. You want to slap Soonyoung and you want him to pay for a fucking well-deserved brunch. No, you want him to ask you out on a brunch. In an attempt to get a hold of yourself you hide your face in your clammy hands, close to your nose to mute the sound of your fear. Nothing is heard but your restrained breath. One, inhale, one two three four five, six, exhale. You try to change the focus of your mind. You close the toilet seat and sit on it, swallowing saliva. You press your finger on your temple, all trace of sleepiness long forgotten.

Sometimes, Seungcheol says you’re dumb. It’s true. You are. You think back to where you left your belongings, earlier, and that essay on red pigments. Hopefully no one will steal it.

You were already in the last bus when he had called you, voice loud and way too urgent for your state of mind. Asking where you were, and if you had seen Soonyoung or not. You knew very well who Soonyoung was. Jun’s roommate, a theater kid. Phases out a lot, cute. Even though you’re both humanities’ students, you barely see him on campus – you assume it has to do with your respective part time jobs taking up most of the free time you have. But you meet at parties. It feels like whenever you go out, he’s always there, and you usually spend most of the night with him, talking until you stop feeling your head and catch yourself staring at him. That’s when you go home. Dizzy, happy, horny. The feelings linger a few days, until obligations push them out at the back of your brain again. Yet, every now and then, when you are free enough, you remember how vibrant it is to be with him and your skin becomes a boiling veil and your head is full of colors.

So when Seungcheol asked you if you had seen Soonyoung, you told him you had, he was working at the library tonight too. And when he asked when he left you told him you didn’t know – your bus line ends before the library closes, and he was asleep on his table when you left. You heard Junhui’s Oh my god in the back and began to chew on the inside of your lip. And sure enough, they had asked you to come back for him, just in case. And when you had arrived back at the library, all lights off and dark, you had known it was not going to go well. From breaking a window to get back in to the rush of adrenaline induced by the flashlights of the security agents you’d noticed outside, you felt your evening spiraling in a very wrong, irrational way. You didn’t know the library as well as you thought, lost your way of few times, until exhaustion, the fear of getting caught and and increasing worry about Soonyoung’s whereabouts had you disheveled and hiding in the bathroom for a lonely brainstorming session.

Until you hear the flush. The sound of falling water crushing your train of thoughts – you hadn’t even noticed someone came in. Noticing your little cry of surprised, a very tired voice asks who is there, and you give up. Trying to make up a story that wouldn’t make you look like a lunatic, you stand up and push the door open with your feet, wondering how high would the fine be for breaking into the library – and mostly breaking that window.

Only to face Soonyoung, eyes wide, drying his hands with toilet paper. Your mouth agape, you let out a sigh. Your heart skips a beat, maybe because of him, maybe because you’re dead. You feel the embarrassment soaking in. He watches as you close your eyes, lower your head, biting your lips with a little, uneasy smile. You twist your finger until your knuckles are white, licking your lips one last time before clearing your throat.

« Sorry, hum, sorry about… That, I guess. You don’t look at him. Apparently Jun got worried about you and they asked me to check if you were okay… So I-I hum, I, hum, I came back and got scared wandering in the building… Hum. »

You hear your name in a whisper. Two warm hands cup your face, their heat on your frozen ears. They pull you a bit until you gently bump against his chest. Soonyoung whispers your name again. You feel his warmth, and you smell the sweat of his day at work. The soft fabric of his sweater hugs your cheek and you restrain yourself from leaning in more.

« I’m alright, fell asleep, that’s all. His left thumb gently strokes your cheek. Don’t you work morning shifts ? » You shoot him a surprised look from his shoulder, long enough for him to meet your gaze.

« I do. Why do you ask? » He feels your uneven breathe on his lips, it’s warm and shaky. He should kiss you now, but there are fireworks in his head, still in awe at your apparition. His hand goes to your hips, hugging you for good. He then softly takes your hand.

« Let’s go home. You can crash at my place, he tugs at your hand and you hum in agreement. Quick, he makes sure you’re not looking at him as you both head out the bathroom. I’ll call for you tomorrow. To tell them you’re sick. » He avoids your eyes before you can meet his. You should ask him more. You should refuse. Both of his offers. You watch him as he opens the fire escape door – of course – and you watch his hand holding yours. You say nothing and you walk closer to him until you arrive to the bus stop. Sure enough, your bag’s still there, on the floor, where you’ve thrown it the same way you’ve thrown your hours of sleep away. You ponder and you ponder, and Soonyoung looks at you an your face doesn’t look too bad so he doesn’t push you.

« Okay then, let’s do that. I’ll sleep at your place, and before my shift you call them saying I’m sick or dead, as you please. » He smiles and it’s like dawn already.

« Don’t you want to go back ? After, I mean ? I mean, to keep working there ? »

« I’ll do it Jesus style then. » He laughs and you finally look at him again. Even now, as you sit on the bench and he stands right in front of you, he still has your hand in his. He shifts his balance, holding your gaze, and how many times did he get the occasion to kiss you ? Proper occasions, not intoxicated ones. His free hand reaches to cup your face once more, the tips of his fingers caressing greasy strands of your hair.

He really should kiss you now.

#seventeen scenarios #hoshi imagines #seventeen imagines #hoshi scenarios #hoshi fluff #my writings #ksy #hoshi

[absent-angel]

What’s in a Name

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Summary: The first time she sees him her home is on fire. [NaLu] [Fae AU] [@nalu-week 2020 Bonus Day: AU]

Read it on ff.net

AN: Well, I’m late per usual but it’s here! Also, I’m sorry but I don’t have the patience go through at search out all the italics tumblr doesn’t recognize, so if you want to read it as it was written please use the link. :)

Word Count: 6106

Warnings: Language

The first time she sees him, her home is on fire.

Flames are clawing up the walls, smoke blacking the ceiling. She coughs into the sleeve of her lace trimmed nightgown and tries to stifle her sobs long enough to scream for her mother. She is only ten years old, and the only thing she remembers from the fire safety course last year is to stop, drop, and roll. She's not on fire, but after a few moments of running aimlessly around her room and choking on smoke, she sinks to the ground anyway. It is easier to breathe down there. The room is filling with smoke and through the cackling and popping of the flames she can just barely make out the sound of the frantic voices of the staff on the other side of the wall.

Again, she screams for help but the smoke gags her. The air is so hot that she feels her lungs blister with every breath she takes. Most of her room has been engulfed, and the ceiling is starting to rain down blackened sheets of drywall—hitting the floor like a bomb. She knows she should move but she doesn't know where to go. Her bedroom door was long since engulfed by the greedy flames, and the only window is blocked - her pink velvet curtains have long since turned into two towering pillars of heat and flames. There isn't nearly enough room for her to get through. On her hands and knees she crawls under her bed, because it seems to be the only safe place left. 

Her face shines with a mixture of sweat and tears as she presses her cheek against the wood floor. She gasps for breath, lungs burning for oxygen. The edges of her vision are starting to go black and she forces herself to take larger gulps of ash-laden air. When she calls out again her voice is dry and cracks with every syllable. Still, she forces the words out in a coughing wheeze. "Please! I don't—want to die!" More tears slip down her cheeks, she can almost feel them evaporating on her flushed skin. The voices on the other side of the wall have faded, and all she hears now is the hissing and popping as the fire consumes. 

Her eyes, already burning from the heat and smoke, begin to feel heavy and she feels the overwhelming urge to sleep. Slowly, she blinks, and when her eyes reopen she sees something that wasn't there before. By the curtains she sees a man. 

She should be suspicious of the fact that the smoldering heat and open flames seem to have no effect on him—but she isn't. With every last bit of strength, she tries to drag herself toward him. She only makes it to the foot of the bed. He doesn't see her, she knows he doesn't, because he is humming and eating the flames licking up her curtains. "Help," she pleas, but it is only a weak hiss of air passing her chapped lips.

His dark eyes snap to hers, an alarmed expression parting his lips, before her world fades to black.

A week later she wakes up surrounded by clean white floors and starched linens. There is a mask strapped to her face and wires taped to her skin, and dazedly realizes she is in a hospital. She expects her mother to be there, but it is Ms. Spetto that comes rushing to her bedside; tears following the deep wrinkles around her mouth as her time worn hands gently cup Lucy's cheeks. Her lips move around the same words, over and over again. By the fourth time she repeats it, Lucy is able to wade through the fog of painkillers enough to understand.

“I’m so sorry.”

Lucy is ten years old, and the day she wakes up—relieved to be alive—is the day she finds out her mother is dead.

X

The second time she sees him it is at Burning Man. 

She is twenty-one and so out of her league, but a classmate convinced her to come along. She is angry and determined to rebel against her father in every way possible so she does. It takes her a day and five semi-permanent coloring kits to get her hair ready. Cana (her classmate) helps her dye some of the blonde strands into rainbow colored streaks. Lucy admits that she's concerned about the turn out at first, but now that she has the colored strands weaved into two French braids she is more than happy with her decision. 

Everyone seems so bright and full of color, so full of life. She is lost in a sea of costumed bodies, sky high sculptures, cleverly modified "cars", friendly smiles, and booze. Lots of booze. The sun is mercilessly hot, and she knows that her shoulders will likely be burned even through her sunscreen (and the thick layer of dust she had accumulated from her traditional virgin roll in the dirt upon her arrival). It is nothing like she has ever experienced, and she is glad that Cana convinced her to come. 

Her friend disappeared  hours ago—Lucy assumes she is probably back in the tent doing she-doesn't-even-want-to-know-what with her boyfriend. She takes a drag of her beer and shivers when she finds it is still cold. The bikini top and shorts she is wearing do little to keep her warm, but she knows that once she joins the throng of dancers she will probably be wishing for the cold. 

Night descends and people are lit up with any and every possible glow-in-the-dark accessory imaginable. The large sculptures dotting the desert are aglow with a mixture of Christmas lights and LEDs, but the one in front of her is a cacophony of large billowing flames that—if not for the smoke and heat—would almost look like clouds. Adrenaline pumps through her veins, quickening her pulse as she is torn between fear and awe and the towering flames. She has made sure to find a spot upwind to avoid the smoke, but she can still feel her breathing beginning to tighten. Her asthma doesn’t flare up often, but when it does smoke is usually the culprit; fitting since it was the burning air and toxic smoke she inhaled when she was ten that gave her the condition in the first place. She reaches for the inhaler she stacked in her front pocket—just to be safe.

Then she sees him.

He is everything she remembers and everything she has forgotten. He sits on the crude arm of the sculpture, grabbing handfuls of flames and slurping it up as if it were soup. She can’t hear anything over the music, but his leg swings idly to the beat and, somehow, she can almost hear him humming along.

Lucy goes still—frozen in a sea of moving bodies. A man next to her asks if she’s ok, but she barely registers it. By the time she does, he’s already laughing her off has having a good trip. She watches as he disappears into the crowd, hoping that when she looks the fire eating man will have disappeared.

He hasn’t.

He’s staring right at her, with those eyes she remembers most. The same startled expression parting his mouth; fire painting him in orange, red light.

Her inhaler drops. Lucy runs. Maybe she is on a bad trip—maybe someone put something in her drink—but she doesn’t care. Even if it isn’t real, it’s real to her. She doesn’t want to stare at the face that has haunted her for more than a decade. The face she has told no one about, because even as a ten year old she knew better than to believe in strange men that eat fire like it’s a meal.

Adrenaline is making her pulse race and her mind foggy. She should have ran back to her tent—Cana’s boyfriend being there or not—but instead she finds herself surrounded by cold, empty desert with the fire (and other people) at her back. The air she gulps down is cold, but she knows the goosebumps dotting her exposed skin are from far, far more than just the temperature. There are a hundred of things she should be worried about—snakes, coyotes, real men that might see her as an easy target—but all she can think of is dark eyes and flames and the wheezing in her chest.

She forces herself to stand upright, dutifully recalling her doctor’s instructions should she have an attack without her inhaler, and tries to calm her racing heart and reign in her short, gasping breaths. It’s just her mind playing tricks, she tells herself. Just childhood trauma coming back to haunt her. It was a big fire, she should have known it would trigger a reaction. Really, what had she expected? Only, each inhale of cold, dry air seems to only make the pain in her chest coil tighter; every breath shorter. 

Suddenly the fire-eater is the least of her concerns. She has to turn around—has to find the spare inhaler she has stashed in her duffle bag. If she doesn’t—if she passes out, here, in the dark corner of desert—she won’t live to see the sunrise.

She turns, squeaking out a scream when she finds a face not a foot away from her’s. A face that, even in the darkness, she recognizes.

He tilts his head, brow furrowing as he watches her gasp. His hand wraps around her neck, too light to bruise but too firm for her to escape. Fear prompts her to claw at his hand, fighting against his hold, but then something strange happens.

The coil in her chest loosens, the whistle in her breathing stops. She can breathe. 

Lucy’s heartbeat thunders in her ears, but as his hand retreats her breathing slows, deep and measured and so blessedly normal it’s shocking. She stumbles backward, tripping and falling on her bottom, but she is too numb to do anything else but stare. She doesn’t know what he did but she knows it saved her life, and she isn’t sure how she should process that. “How?” she asks, the word cutting through the silence.

He crouches down, head tilted and eyes curious. “You can see me?”

Lucy swallows, trembling. She doesn’t dare repeat her question. “Am I not supposed to?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he gives a small, perplexed shrug. “I don’t know. No one has before.”

“That’s a lie,” she murmurs, before she can think better of it. But he doesn’t seem offended. “I saw you. You were eating the curtains.”

He recoils, disgusted. “Gross! Who the hell would eat curtains?!”

“They were on fire,” she says, confidence growing the longer she sits there. He hasn’t hurt her—he’s never hurt her—and she gets the feeling that he never will. Why would he bother saving her otherwise? Her vision has begun to adjust to the dark, and he seems much less scary now that he’s more than a shadow. The pink hair helps too. “I was a little girl, and I saw you.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, seeming torn between awe and complete confusion. The way he looks at her is disconcerting… like he doesn’t know what she is, even though she’s the one that should be perplexed. “How’d you do that?”

Her shoulders lift into a weak shrug. Beneath her the ground is still relatively warm from soaking up the sun’s heat all day, but even that is rapidly leaving, and she shivers—teeth on the verge of chattering now that some of the adrenaline has waned. “I didn’t do anything,” she grumbles, sitting up and rubbing her arms with her palms. “You were just, there, and I saw you.”

Glancing at her hands, he frowns. “Why are you doing that?”

“What?”

“That thing with your hands. And the shaky thing.”

“Because I’m cold? It’s cold out here.”

“It is?” He looks around, as if temperature is something that can be seen instead of felt. “Huh. Guess I didn’t notice.” His feet lift, crossing underneath him, and it’s as if gravity has ceased to exist. Perhaps, for him, it never has. In the dark, his eyes burn inhumanly bright. “What’s your name?”

A warning trill traces her spine. Lucy doesn’t remember all of her mother’s teachings, but she remembers this: names have power. Back then it was merely a rule for storybooks; realms with magic and fae instead of electricity and cars. Still, her mother’s voice rings, clear as day, that one can never be too careful. “What’s yours?”

His grin is wide, almost approving, as he laces his fingers behind his head. “You know, you really are the only one that can see me. Do you see other things too?”

Lucy stares at him, a sudden swell of emotion stirring in her chest. “I thought I imagined you,” she says, barely above a whisper. “No one could tell me how I got out of the house. You... you did that, didn’t you? You saved me?”

He shifts, looking uncomfortable. Mouth parting, he’s on the verge of offering an answer when his body tenses—eyes snapping to the dying flames yards away. He frowns, looking genuinely disappointed.  “Well, damn. Guess this is goodbye.”

Lucy shakes her head, “Wait! You didn’t answer—“

He flips something toward her: a coin, gold and glinting despite the darkness. Out of instinct, she catches it. The metal is inhumanly warm and unnaturally bright, and it momentarily shocks her into silence. When she looks up he is sending her a dimpled grin. 

“Call me!”

Then, between one blink and the next, he’s gone; and Lucy wonders how she could possibly call when she doesn’t even know who or what he is.

X

The third time she sees him, her shoulders and cheeks are still burnt from the Nevada sun, but she is at least in the privacy of her own home.

Her father has always thrown money at problems to make them go away, and Lucy is no exception. It is easier for him to shower her with gifts through the mail than to shower her with time, and though it still sends a shot of bitterness through her heart she has learned to at least appreciate the practicality of his seemingly endless pocketbook. The cozy two-story Tudor style home he bought her, just around the corner from her college campus, is particularly well loved.

The wallpaper is old—some of it even original—and peeling in some places, and the oak floors speak back to her with every step, but she loves the warmth it provides; so unlike the cold, polished marble homes of her youth. 

There are multiple fireplaces. Lucy has never used them, but she considers them thoughtfully now; despite it being the heat of summer. She rubs the coin between her fingers restlessly. 

She lights a match—hesitating long enough to feel the heat brush her fingertips—before flicking it into the fireplace. The crumpled balls of paper take a moment to catch, but once it does the fire flares to life; the flames licking at the bricks. But nothing changes and she frowns—disappointed.

In her front pocket, the golden coin hums; emitting a heat she can feel even through the denim of her jeans. She pulls it out, stares at her reflection in the polished surface, and wonders. Her eyes flick to the fireplace, considering, and tosses the coin into the flames.

She stares, waiting for something (anything) to happen. After a few long seconds she begins to think nothing will, but then—between one blink and the next—he’s there, bouncing on the pads of his bare feet and a dimpled grin stretched ear to ear.

“Bout time! What took you so long?”

Lucy sits, practically falling into her favorite wingback chair, and stares up at him in disbelief. “I... can’t believe that worked.”

He links his hands over his head, stretching. Lucy tries not to notice the way his muscles flex beneath his open vest. Perhaps it was a mistake calling on him during the day. Between the harsh shadows the Burning Man fire cast and the desert darkness, she had failed to realize how inhumanly handsome he is.

A pink eyebrow raises questioningly. “Well, why wouldn’t it?”

Lucy flushes. She prays to whatever the hell god is listening that he didn’t notice her staring and forces herself to focus on the conversation instead of his pecs. “Why would it?!”

He opens his mouth, but whatever answer he was preparing to give her is cut off by the dimming flames in the hearth. “Don’t let it die!” he yelps, bordering on panic. “Throw something in there! Quick! If the fire dies, the door shuts!”

Hastily, she looks around for something to toss in but it wasn’t like she was prepared for any of this. She doesn’t buy firewood—why would she when this is the first time she’s ever dared to use her fireplace—and the crumpled pieces of paper she had lit were just junk mail. “I don’t have anything else!”

He growls, an inhuman sound for an inhuman man, and points to the stack of books on her side table. “There!”

Lucy blanches. “That’s my history textbook!”

“Who cares!? They got most of it wrong anyway!” he snaps. The last of the flames is retreating into the embers. “Hurry!”

It is a testament to her stress level that her sanity lapsed enough to throw her three-hundred dollar textbook to its fiery grave. She watches, gaping, as it catches—a whooshing pillar of ink fed flames.

Delighted, her guest tastes a sample and makes a face. “Geeze, did no one teach you how to build a fire? You kinda suck at this.”

Lucy’s face hardens. “I try to avoid it.”

“Why would you so that?! Fire is awesome! It cooks stuff and keeps people warm—“

“It killed my mother.”

His smile falls. “Oh.” 

Silence presses down on them, so awkward it’s stifling. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she gathers her courage to ask the question that’s haunted her for years. “You were there,” Lucy whispers, her heart aching. “Why didn’t you save her too?”

He rubs the back of his neck, unable to meet her gaze, but there is an apology in his voice. “I can’t interact with people of this plane—I don’t really exist here.”

Lucy shakes her head. “But you saved me.”

Frowning, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Well yeah. Wasn’t going to leave ya there.”

She can’t tell if he’s being oblivious or stubborn, but her frustration rises regardless. “But I’m from this plane.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“Of course I am!”

He doesn’t argue, but his stare is pointed. Knowing. When he shrugs it feels placating. “Ok.”

Lucy feels like it’s anything but, and when the fire starts to die she doesn’t feed it.

X

She doesn’t see him for another three months.

Honestly, she hadn’t planned on calling on him at all, but it’s Christmas Eve and all her friends have fled the campus and returned home for the holidays. Christmas is a holiday she hasn’t fully celebrated since her mother died. She remembers that the Heartfilia mansion used to be so lit up with lights and garlands it would glow from the street. Ms. Spetto liked to joke that it could probably be seen from the moon.

The fresh scent of pine and the magic of the holiday left with her mother, though, and her father has never so much as put a wreath up since. When Lucy was in the dorms she would try to add a bit of cheer, but it always paled in comparison to the grandness of her childhood memories. When she received the keys to her home, Lucy vowed to go all out come Christmas.

Garlands drape over the fireplace mantels and twine between the railings of the staircase. The Douglas fir she had to physically wrestle into submission sits—slightly leaning—in the corner of the living room, lit up in row upon row of white lights and branches heavy with the glass ornaments she found at the superstore around the corner. The fire is crackling merrily in the fireplace, and a mug of hot cocoa warms her palms.

It is all picture perfect—something straight off a holiday card.

It feels hollow. Forced.

Lonely.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, quelling its quivering. She doesn’t want to spend her Christmas alone; not again. 

From the fireplace mantle, partially hidden behind the heavy garland, the gold coin winks at her. She stares at it until her cocoa grows cold; torn between the desire to fill the emptiness in her heart and being sensible enough to know better than to invite a strange being into her home (again) for no other reason than to have some company.

Lucy considers herself to be logical, for the most part, but right now she’s tired of putting responsibility first. Right now, she wants to take a page out of Cana’s book and just say fuck it.

She stands, making a beeline to the dining room and fishing out a bottle of Kahlua from the back of the alcohol cabinet. Dumping a generous amount into her (now cold) hot chocolate, she doesn’t even bother to stir before taking a several gulps. It slides down her throat, smooth and warm, before settling in her stomach. It feels like courage, or perhaps it’s simply recklessness. Either way, she takes the smooth faced coin from the mantle and tosses it into the fire before she can talk herself out of it.

He takes longer this time—a good three blinks—but when he arrives there is a holly crown weaved into his hair and a pink flush to his cheeks. His clothes are different from all the times before; finer. High collared and made from a golden material that reflects the flickering light of the fire. “Hey,” he breathes, an excited (relieved?) smile pulling at his lips. “I didn’t think you’d call.”

For a moment she can only gape at him; struck by how otherworldly—how Fae—he looks. “Um, I, well. I just thought... you know, it’s Christmas?” She pales, realization dawning as fast as her embarrassment. “Oh, but, you wouldn’t celebrate Christmas. Would you?”

The chuckle he gives is light, and blessedly unoffended. “Nah, can’t say I do.” He gestures to his clothing. “But we go all out for the Winter Solstice. So similar deal, right? With the whole eat, drink, and be merry and whatnot?”

Despite the alcohol making her thoughts fuzzy, Lucy has enough presence of mind to know better than to invite a conversation of religion with a near stranger (let alone a mythical being) so she nods. “Uh, yeah. I guess so.” Then it clicks, and she feels her face heat. “Oh, you were—did I interrupt the, uh, merrymaking?”

He waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I was getting sick of seeing Ice Prick’s smug face anyway. He’s always an extra pain in the ass this time of year.”

She blinks, but decides she really doesn’t want to know. “Oh. Well then, um, would you like some hot cocoa?”

His answering smile is boundless; bright with an enthusiasm that Lucy knows is worthy of far more than what she’s offered.

X

For the remainder of winter break, Lucy lights a fire in the living room hearth every evening.

She never enjoys it alone.

X

Cana looks at her strangely when she returns from break, eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

Lucy frowns, sitting in the seat beside her. The coffee shop is busy, but the line is mostly frantic to-go orders of students who hit the snooze one too many times. The sitting area is practically empty saved for two or three others. “I missed you too? How’s your dad?”

“Drunk,” Cana says without a beat, her lips thinning. “Seriously, though. What’d you do? Your aura is freaking me out.”

Lucy doesn’t typically put too much faith in the idea of psychics, but Cana’s has a history of being uncannily right about things she doesn’t have any business knowing. Also, she’s sorta made friends with a fae over Winter Break so who is she to judge? “What are you talking about?”

Cana rests her chin in her palm, a painted fingernail tapping thoughtfully against her cheek. “You’re... bright.”

Raising an eyebrow, Lucy tried to interpret Cana’s baffled expression. “And that’s...bad?”

The brunette snorts, taking a sip of her coffee. Her eyes continue to stare over the rim. “It’s fucking weird. I can’t read anything off you. It’s like staring straight at a lightbulb.”

Lucy doesn’t have an explanation—she’s not even sure she even understands—so offers a shrug and a sheepish smile. “Sorry?”

Cana hums, shaking her head. “It’s pretty,” she consoles, eyes tracing something Lucy can’t see. “But it’s fucking weird.”

X

“Why can I see you?” Lucy asks, staring up at the ceiling. The wood planks are unforgiving on her joints, but the warmth of the fire (and perhaps that glass of wine) has made her too sleepy to care. Monopoly money and plastic houses are scattered over her coffee table, a few of the paper bills littering the floor.

Her guest pauses in his inspection of the thimble, brow raised. “Why does anyone see anything?”

She huffs, eyelids heavy and words mumbled. “Why do you keep answering questions with more questions?”

His grin is crooked but soft. “Because I won’t lie to you.”

She hums sleepily, lids drifting shut. It feels good to rest her eyes. “You can tell me anything.”

They both know it’s the truth. Sometime in the last six months he has become one of her closest friend, her most trusted confidant. At least a couple nights a week, she calls on him. They play board games and watch movies—one night Lucy taught him how to bake chocolate chip cookies. He still hasn’t told her his name. Lucy hasn’t told him hers either.

The chuckle he gives is as warm as the fire at her back; his voice a promise. “Someday I will.”

Lucy is asleep before she can answer.

X

On the anniversary of her mother’s death, Lucy lights a candle.

She tries to sniff back the tears, but they press against the backs of her eyes—building in pressure until they spill over her lids. The tiny flame dances, moved by her uneven breaths. It hurts. Ten years later and it still hurts.

Legs weak, she sinks to the floor, hand over her aching chest as silent sobs wrack her body.

A hand rests against her back. Lucy doesn’t look to see who it belongs to— it’s too warm to be anyone but his. She curls into herself, unsure if she feels irritated by him coming uninvited (the candle, she thinks, it must have been the candle) or relieved that she doesn’t have to fall apart alone. 

“I didn’t call you,” she tells him, voice cracking. The coin is in her front pocket, hidden and far from the open flame.

A callused knuckle brushes a tear from her eyes before it can fall. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “you did.”

She wipes her nose on the sleeve of her sweater.  She still doesn’t understand, and she hates when he gives her these vague responses, but she’s in too much pain to fight for an answer. “But how’d you open the door? The coin—”

He offers a brittle smile. “There’s more than one way to pick a lock.”

His arms wrap around her, pulling her close until the heat of him surrounds her.  It feels so good to be held—to be touched— something in her breaks and she releases a low, keening sob. His hold tightens, a hand reaching up to caress her hair. Lucy can feel his lips brush against her forehead, his words whispering across her skin. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save her.”

Her fingers grasp his clothing, and she inhales his spiced scent in between gasping breaths. She’s sorry too.

X

Wake up.

A kiss of warmth at her lips, magic in her lungs. Hands shake her. Rough. Begging. 

Breathe. Come on, breathe.

Lucy opens her eyes with a gasp, ragged and raw. Pavement digs uncomfortably into her shoulder blades, and her chest aches with every inhale. Her vision is blurred, but she can make out his pink hair through the fog. One side of her face feels hot, and she rolls her head to the side to investigate.

Her home is on fire.

At first she thinks she’s only reliving her childhood nightmare, but the familiar man—fae—hovering over her grips her upper arms with a strength that is bruising. “You idiot,” he hisses. There are tears clinging, unspilled, at the corners of his eyes. “Why the hell didn’t you leave the ashes in the fireplace?!”

Lucy blinks, trying to clear the blurriness at the edge of her vision. “Ashes?” she echoes. She had cleaned those up, swept them into her trash can. The hearth was filthy from all his visits. “But they were cold.” She knows—she checked. It had been hours from when the fire died and his visit ended.

She can hear the piercing echo of sirens and knows they are for her.

His hands move, callused palms cupping her cheeks; so gently they tremble. “Idiot,” he repeats, softer this time. Almost an endearment. The piercing echo of sirens reach her ears, Lucy knows they are for her. He leans down till their foreheads touch, his breath warm against her lips. “Those ashes almost killed you,” he whispers, voice rough. “If you didn’t leave my coin downstairs—” he cuts off, cringing. “You weren’t breathing. When I pulled you out. You weren’t breathing.”

Lights, red and white, flash over her front yard. Someone with heavy steps and full fire gear runs toward her; shouting something Lucy can’t bother to make out. She’s too focused on the fear, the relief, in her friend’s dark eyes.

The fireman is kneeling beside her know, opposite of the fae that saved her. His fingers check her pulse as he speaks to her (Miss are you alright? Can you hear me? Does anything hurt?)

Lucy doesn’t answer, doesn’t even glance his way. To do so would mean breaking eye contact with her best friend, and right now his presence is offering her more comfort than any human could. “What’s your name?” she rasps, reaching for him.

“Natsu,” he answers, taking her hand in his. His fingers, callused and warm, trace her cheek, and Lucy knows that what he’s given her is far more than just a name. “It’s Natsu.”

She wants to thank him—for saving her, for his trust—but she’s being picked up, pulled away from him, and set in a stretcher. A mask is strapped over her face, IVs taped to her arm, and she fights to hold onto his hand. “No,” she mutters weakly, “No, I want to stay with him. Stop...”

They keep speaking to her, encouraging and emphatic, but they don’t listen to her requests. She struggles, gloved hands push her down, but then Natsu is there beside her—reaching between the bodies surrounding her to grasp her hand. “It’s ok,” he says. “It’s ok. Don’t fight them.”

She holds his hand with a white-knuckled grip, relieved that he doesn’t let her go as they load her into the ambulance. The paramedic puts a stethoscope to her chest, listening to her pulse, as the doors close. Beside him, Natsu kneels beside her, thumb stroking over her knuckles. “I’ll stay with you for as far as I can,” he promises. Lucy nods, but her eyes are starting to feel heavy.

He makes it four blocks, before a pained grimace overtakes his features. His lips part, probably trying to warn her, but he isn’t quick enough. He disappears, torn away from her by the boundaries of his magic, but when her fingers close she finds that he didn’t leave her empty handed. Sitting, comforting and warm, in her palm is a familiar gold coin.

Lucy closes her fingers around it, tests the taste of his name on her lips, and falls into sleep.

X

They discharge her after two days. The doctors tell her it’s a small miracle she escaped without any damage to her lungs, but Lucy knows better.

She’s breathing better than she has in the last decade—since before she survived the fire that took her mother. Natsu has given her more than his name, more than his kiss. When their lips touched, something in her awoke. She can feel it, even now, lazily curling around her soul—sleepy and languid; a cat in front of a warm hearth. It’s new but she knows, instinctively, that it is hers.

Long ago, her mother used to spin her stories of the Fae and their blood—how the magic often slept, hidden, in plain sight for generations before awakening.

Lucy knows why she can see Natsu; knows why he was able to save her.

She goes home; what’s left of it. Beyond the yellow caution taped perimeter is a charred skeleton of what used to be her house. Most of the walls have buckled, little more than piles of blackened brick and ash. Of all four fireplaces her home once boasted, only the one in the living room is recognizable. The stack is short, but after a bit of digging Lucy is able to find the hearth.

With soot blackened hands, she fishes her discharge papers from the plastic, hospital issued bag she was sent with and diligently crumbles each page until the hearth is full of her makeshift kindling and—gleaming on top—his coin. It won’t burn for long, she knows, but as she brings a lighter (her only purchase between the hospital and home) to the paper, she hopes it will be enough.

The moment the paper catches, she can feel his presence behind her—a subtle shift in the air, the spiced scent of magic. She faces him, heart fluttering in her chest.

His fingers brush over her eyelids, a soft smile curling his mouth. “You’re awake,” he murmurs, awe darkening his gaze. “You can see.”

“Yes,” she murmurs, holding his palm to her cheek. The calluses lining his fingers brush against her skin, warm and welcome, and she sighs—leaning into his touch. “I can see.”

His grin is interrupted by a shudder—so minute she would have never known if she weren’t holding his hand—and his eyes flick over to the fireplace. Lucy doesn’t need to look to know they are running out of time.

Quickly, before the fire goes out completely, she kisses him. Chaste, but branded with the heat of a promise. “Lucy,” she whispers against his lips. “My name is Lucy.”

Natsu sucks in a quick, startled breath and stares down at her as if she is something amazing. Slowly, his lips curl and his cheeks dimple—eyes lighting up. “Lucy,” he echoes—savoring each syllable as if they are the finest gift she could give him. Lucy suspects they might be.

He brushes a stray hair away from her face with a tenderness that makes her pulse flutter and her eyes close. When he kisses her, it is soft and unhurried despite the dying fire behind her. It feels like coming home. Her fingers grip his vest in what she knows is a vain effort to keep him beside her.

When he pulls away she opens her eyes, and finds the world different. There is stardust tangled in Natsu’s hair; magic in his smile. Where her blackened hearth once stood is a bridge made purely of light and something so other it makes her heart ache with the desire to touch it. “I thought it was a door?” she murmurs, entranced.

Natsu’s forehead rests against hers, his lips so close she can feel the force of his smile. “It was. Fire is my doorway, the coin I gave you is my key. But you, Luce... Don’t you see? You’re the bridge.” He kisses her temple. “You’re the best of both worlds.”

He steps away from her, hand held out in invitation. Framed by the bridge’s ethereal light, he looks every bit like a Fae from her childhood storybooks. “Come with me?”

When Lucy takes his hand, their fingers lace.

#Naluweek #nalu #nalu fanfiction #fairy tail fanfiction #my fanfiction

[i-stan-nct-and-satan]

Not Broken Part 11 (Jaehyun Mafia AU)

Not Broken Masterlist

Jaehyun X Reader 

Trigger warning: Mentions of abuse

Awakened by the rays of sunlight that shined a little too brightly for comfort, I lifted the covers over my head, keeping my eyes shut in the hopes that I could continue my much-needed slumber.  

I felt myself melting into the mattress. It felt so much softer than I had remembered. The pillows fluffier, the duvet silkier, and the entire bed felt roomier than I was used to.

Everything was so warm, so nice, so... comfortable. I wondered how long it had been since I felt this at peace.

My eyes fluttered open at the thought.

How long had it been?

I threw the bedspread off my body to see that I was wearing something that definitely didn’t belong to me. I normally went to bed either in a tank top and boxer shorts or in my day-clothes depending on whether or not I drank too much the previous night but right now I was wearing satin teal pajamas covered in a seashell design. It felt too early in the morning to have this much to process, even without the confusion surrounding the tacky nightwear.

This isn’t my bed. This isn’t my bedroom. Where am I?

After the initial shock of having woken up in a new place finally managed to wash away, the memories that I was free of during my harmonious slumber were back and I felt as though I were drowning in them.  

I noticed my breathing was almost at the point of hyperventilation, so I took in several slow breaths to calm myself.  

The last thing I want to do in this scenario is panic. I must be smart about this.  

After a split second of searching, my eyes landed on a window. I stood up from the bed and quickly yet quietly moved towards it.  

Maybe I'll have a better chance of escaping if I climb out through here.

I easily removed the window screen before wrestling with the window itself, trying to figure out how to open it. It was unlocked.  

Yes, yes, yes!

No, no, no!

After finally managing to open the window wide enough to climb through, I stuck my head out to find that I was at least three stories high and that there was no way to climb down without a rope.

I looked to the bedsheets and practiced tying them together like in the movies, but the satin fabric slipped undone as soon as even a little pressure was added to the knots.  

Curse these soft fucking sheets.

Just as I started to realize that the window plan wasn’t going to pan out, I spotted a nearby door.

My nerves worsened as I walked towards the small beacon of hope. If I wanted to make it past them in a house I knew nothing about, I was going to have to be quick in my escape.

My hand reached for the knob. I hesitated, noticing the coldness of the metal before a small bout of adrenaline encouraged me to turn it. I swung the door open more harshly than I had intended but the adrenaline had taken hold and I ran into a fucking closet.  

What the fuck? Ow!

I rubbed at my forehead.  

As if I wasn’t bruised enough already.  

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I, Y/N, tried to escape by running into the bedroom closet.  

Thankfully, the closet was filled with enough clothing that it served as padding to my idiocy.  

Still on the floor of the closet, I waited a few seconds hoping that any noise that may have arisen from my sudden encounter with the closet wall wasn’t enough to draw any attention to the fact that I was awake.  

Stepping out, my eyes noticed two more doors. More slowly this time, I opened the first one, still taking every precaution not to make any unnecessary noise.  

Bathroom.  

Okay, on to the next one.  

I knew that this time it had to be the right door given the fact that it seemed pretty unlikely that they had built an entire room around me as I slept.

I turned the knob expecting a clicking sound but it never came.  

Locked.

I sighed in frustration.  

Of course, it was locked. What did I expect?

I turned around, resting my back against the door as I slid down to the floor.  

A groan left my mouth as my image reflected itself on a large mirror on the other side of the room.

I hadn’t had a chance to look around the room yet since once I realized it wasn’t mine, I had become preoccupied with the goal of leaving it. Now, seeing as I had nothing else to do, I figured I could at least find something to turn into a makeshift weapon or something along those lines.  

Taking in the bedroom’s décor, I noticed that it was a lot less flashy than the bedroom that used to belong to IU. Where her room was mostly covered with purple detailing, this room was filled with more black and grey tones. The walls were painted a plain white color. The hardwood floors were coated in a dark glaze that really drew attention to the wood’s natural patterns. The room only had 5 pieces of furniture: a bed with a charcoal-toned net canopy, the sections of which were tied around the tall wooden bed poles; a nightstand that matched the wood of the bed; a medium sized vanity table, on top of which was the mirror I spotted my reflection in, with a small matching chair, along with armchair on the other side of the room that reminded me of one of those movies where wealthy old men would sit in front of the fireplace smoking a cigar.  

I carefully stood up, painfully aware of the aches and pains that taunted every nerve. I walked towards the vanity, never talking my gaze off the mirror’s reflection. My eyes weren’t as swollen as they once were, but I couldn’t help but notice that they were even darker than before.  

<><><><>Flashback<><><><>

“Bruises take around six days from the point of the injury to fully develop. After that, they’ll turn slightly green, then yellow, and then they’ll start to slowly fade away,” My mother told me as she rummaged through the cupboards.  

I was sitting on the bathroom counter, watching her as she searched for the first aid kit. My older brother, the one who ended up disappearing with our inheritance, had pushed me down after I tried to join him and his friends in their soccer game. My knee hadn’t been scraped since my jeans shielded its impact, but it was obvious that a bruise was starting to form. I was eight at the time.

“So, they don’t turn purple immediately?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“That’s so stupid! You mean that I have to wait for it to get purple before it goes away?”

My mother rolled up my pant leg, a slight smile adorned her features.  

“Sometimes things get worse before they can get better. That’s the way life is,” She hummed opening a jar that lacked any sort of label.

She noticed my pouting expression and let out a chuckle.  

“But you know, you don’t have to just sit there and put up with it. That’s why we use vitamin k cream, to clot the broken capillaries so that the bruises fade faster,” She explained in her usual sing-songy tone.  

“That’s so stupid. What does that even mean?” I whined.

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”  

<><><>End of flashback<><><><>

I smiled at the memory but the tears that filled my eyes revealed the real truth.  

My mother always seemed to know exactly what to say. It was like she always knew that everything was going to be okay, no matter how bad it appeared to be. That knowing smile which reassured me that things would turn out the way they were supposed to, ended up being a false comfort. Things didn’t turn out the way they were supposed to. Not then when she and my father died in that car accident, and not now.

My mom wasn’t here to tell me everything was going to be okay and she never would again.  

Staring at myself in the mirror, the tears spilled over one by one, until a sudden series of knocks started coming from the locked door.  

I tried to wipe the tears away using the sleeve of the pajamas, but the unabsorbant satin merely spread them over my cheeks.  

Seriously?

“Y/N? I’m coming in now,” the voice announced.

Making one last effort to wipe the moisture from my face with my hands, I turned towards the opened door. The first thing I noticed was red.

It was Taeyong.

I didn’t allow myself to feel relieved that it was him entering the room instead of one of the more violent members, especially since he was still one of the men who had been holding me captive.  

He was holding a lunch tray with a bowl resting on top of it. I couldn’t see what it was at first but as he drew closer, finding out the contents of the bowl wasn’t my biggest concern. I retreated from the man’s approach by climbing onto the bed only for him to walk past me to set the tray on the vanity.

“How do you feel?”

Still foggy from having woken up, I passed on coming up with any form of a snarky response. Instead, I just stared at him.

“You slept for quite a long time, but I guess that makes sense since you weren’t able to get much rest the night before,” He commented, referring to the lack of sleep I received due to the adrenaline shot I was given at the time.

He leaned against the wall across from me. I stayed silent.

“I’m not gonna ask you if anything hurts, because I know that everything probably hurts right now, but I’d like you to answer some questions for me,” Taeyong explained.

He stared at me expectantly.

“Nod your head if you understand.”

I paused before nodding.

Taeyong’s gaze lingered on me awkwardly before kneeling in front of the nightstand beside the bed.  

I lifted my feet onto the bed out of instinct but either he didn’t seem to notice or was purposely ignoring my jumpy antics.  

“Do you feel any dizziness?” Taeyong asked as he opened the nightstand drawer.  

He took out a first aid kit before turning to me. I shook my head.

“What about swelling?”

Again, I shook my head.  

Taeyong continued to ask me a grocery list of questions regarding how I was feeling. I answered no to most of the questions by simply shaking my head but then he started asking things I couldn’t silently answer.  

“Where does it hurt the most?”

“My ribs.”

“Huh, how would you describe the pain?”

“It’s aches when I inhale,” I replied, downplaying the extent of which the pain was restricting my ability to breath comfortably.  

“Okay, what else?”  

“My head hurts.”

Taeyong opened the first aid kit and brought out a small flashlight.  

“And you said you weren’t feeling any dizziness, right?”

I returned back to answering with subtle head nods.

“Keep your head still and follow the light with your eyes.”

I did as Taeyong instructed as he performed a series of tests I hadn’t gone through since I had participated in my middle school’s sports team.

“No concussion, that’s good. I was worried that you hit your head on the floor when the chair broke.”

I frowned at the memory in which Winwin tried to explain how Jaehyun had basically destroyed the chair with me in it.  

“What else hurts?”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It would have been easier if he asked, what didn’t hurt. I was too tired to make any effort to express my anger over the current situation and it wasn’t like he didn't already know.  

“Everything else just kind of aches.”

“I see,” Taeyong pondered.

“I’m gonna have to take a look at your rib so I need you to um...”

He seemed reluctant to finish his statement.

“Could you remove your shirt for me?”

I stared at him blankly.

“Uh, I can go grab you something to cover up with while I take a look at it- Uh, your rib, I mean.”

I took in a shallow breath.

“No need,” I replied, unbuttoning the pajama shirt.  

“I assume you were the one who dressed me in these wine aunt pajamas in the first place. Am I correct in that assumption?”

Taeyong nodded sheepishly.

“Then it isn’t anything you haven’t seen before.”

I let the top fall past my shoulders.  

I scowled at Taeyong making it clear that I wasn’t trying to act coy, I was just tired and didn’t really care what he saw, especially when it seemed like half of the members had seen me naked in one form or another.  

“Which side does it hurt on?”

“This one.”

Taeyong sat on the bed on the side of me I had referred to, the side opposite from the vanity. His hands hovered over my body as if asking permission to touch it. I looked him in the eye but made no expression of encouragement. Once he got the hint that I wasn’t going to give him any, his hands met my skin.  

I flinched at the sudden contact and I could feel the goosebumps that began to dust my exposed skin. I hadn’t been embarrassed before, but after being touched by his cold hands, a small shiver went up and down my spine. I began to feel self-conscious, worried that my hardened nipples would give him the wrong idea. I did my best to avoid his gaze by fixing mine on the vanity, but was instead met with his reflection, which seemed to be even more uncomfortable than I was. His features were tinted a light shade of red that almost matched his fiery locks.  

“Sorry,” He muttered as he continued to carefully feel around my ribs.  

“Ah” I winced as his hands found my injured rib.  

He quickly withdrew his hands from my body.

“Are you okay?”

“Just peachy,” I groaned through clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry but I’m going to have to push on it a bit to make sure it isn’t digging into your lungs.”

Just great.

I couldn’t believe the situation I was in but here I was.

“Do what you have to do,” I grumbled.

Taeyong’s hands returned to my body. The injury was in the most awkward spot possible. Two inches to the left and his hands would have been touching my breast.  

“Ah, ah!” I winced again.

“Just a little longer... and done.”

His hands instantly retreated from my body and were now raised in front of his chest like a contestant on a competitive cooking show. One whose time had just ran out and was required to cease any finishing touches he might have been adding to his dish.

Once he realized what he was doing, Taeyong lowered his hands and stood up from the bed.

“Uh, umm. Good news, it isn’t broken, probably just cracked.”

“Yay for me,” I cheered in a monotonal voice.  

“There isn’t much that we can do for a crack rib. It’ll heal on its own. I can get you an inhaler to help with the breathing and prevent you from developing pneumonia, but that’s pretty much it.”  

Taeyong’s face had returned to its normal color once I finished buttoning the pajama shirt over my chest.

I looked up at him. Visible sympathy in his eyes. He must have thought I was pitiful, and he would have been right. I wanted this whole thing to be over, but the end was far from sight.  

“Here, take this,” He instructed, handing me a small white pill and a glass of water from the tray.  

I just looked at the pill and Taeyong immediately noticed my hesitation.

“It’s just a regular aspirin. We have stronger stuff, but I don’t know if you’d be willing to take it.”

“I would prefer it actually,” I replied.

Taeyong let out a small chuckle instantly regretting the action when he saw the coldness in my gaze.

“Sorry,” He muttered apologetically before taking out a what I assumed to be a hydro or an oxy from his pocket.

He handed me the pill and reoffered me the water which I readily accepted.  

“You should eat some food with that. Here, I brought you some dakjuk, I hope you are okay with eating meat.”

He gestured toward the vanity and pulled back the chair. Too hungry to refuse the gesture, I got up from the bed and repositioned myself at the vanity. The pain made it difficult to bring the porridge to my mouth but I pushed through it.  

“I’m sorry for undressing you while you were unconscious,” Taeyong began.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable in these. I’m sorry they aren’t to your liking.”

I set the spoon back into the bowl before turning to Taeyong.

“Really? Are you sure you weren’t inspecting the product?”  

“What?” Taeyong asked in response to my sudden accusation.

“I know that the only reason you’re administering first aid is so that you can sell me off to the highest bidder. I’m sure damaged goods don’t sell as well,” I elaborated bitterly, making it obvious how much disdain I held for the man who was pretending to be concerned for my well-being.

When Taeyong finally understood what I was insinuating, he began to trip over his words, struggling to find the right way to assure me that his intentions were anything but sinister. I turned back to face the mirror only to glare at his reflection instead. After having finally ceased his unintelligible rambling, Taeyong brought his hands to the side of his head and sighed.  

“Okay, you’re right. I lied about why I changed your clothes, but it wasn’t because we plan on selling you or whatever.”

My expression softened slightly waiting for further explanation.

“The clothes that you were wearing belonged to IU. When Jaehyun recognized them as IU’s clothes, he got angry and told you to take them off, which I’m guessing you misunderstood as him suggesting something else which is probably why you fainted.”

Unable to believe that he was finished, I continued to stare at the red-headed reflection for what felt like several minutes.  

“Okay, first of all, that’s stupid and second, why didn’t he just say that?” I demanded.

Taeyong rubbed the sides of his head.

“I don’t know. It’s complicated. This is complicated. Everything is so goddamn complicated!”

I flinched at the sudden rise in volume and sunk into the stiff chair.

Taeyong glanced at my shrinking figure and immediately regained his gentle composure.  

“I won’t try to explain Jaehyun’s actions toward you by telling you about his sister. I have a feeling that you wouldn’t think of it as a proper excuse for what he’s done and I don’t blame you. What I will say is that you don’t have to worry about it happening again. Those pj’s were what we could find at the moment. Due to the current situation, all unnecessary staff have been sent home so we couldn’t have one of the female maids dress you. For that, I’m sorry. I took your measurements while you were asleep and sent them to one of our on-call maids, so that you’d have clothing for the remainder of your time here. I had her hang most of them up in your closet. Anything that couldn’t be hung was put into baskets on the floor. If they aren’t to your liking, we can send someone out for clothes that are more suited for your comf-”

“Wait, what? The remainder of my time here?” I gawked.  

“How long are you planning on keeping me here?” I demanded, sounding more upset than intimidating.

“I’ll let Jaehyun explain all of that to you when we go see him.“

“W-what?”

“He sent me here so that I could bring you to him.”

“No way. I’m not going.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but you don’t really have a choice. I’m surprised he allowed you time to eat first.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel like I owe him?”

“No, it’s supposed to help you understand that he might not be so willing to accommodate you in the future if you don’t cooperate with us.”

I couldn’t help but feel defeated. I never saw myself as the person to just go along with whatever someone said, especially not someone like Jaehyun. Sadly, I couldn’t ignore the situation I was in, not unless I was willing to withstand even more damage.  

“I’ll let you get dressed. Knock on the door when you’re ready. If you take too long, I’ll come in, whether you’re dressed or not,” He warned, interrupting my thoughts.  

Making his exit, Taeyong left me alone with my reflection, closing the door behind him.

I glanced around the room, hoping to find a clock of some sort, but to no avail. Looking at it, the room seemed very minimalistic, as though it were a guest room that often went unoccupied. It didn’t surprise me though. If this building was able house to every member of NCT 127 and still have empty rooms, then it made sense that they wouldn’t put as much effort into furnishing the rooms with the least amount of traffic. I just kind of wished it had a clock so that I could keep track of the time.  

I walked over to the closet and opened it. I hadn’t considered that the clothes were meant for me when they had cushioned my failed escape attempt earlier. I was amazed by how much they had bought for me in such a short amount of time. I respected the maid’s shopping ability. I couldn’t say the same for her taste though. I enjoyed dressing up or I guess... dressing down for burlesque shows, but I didn’t like to dress up in my everyday life. Don’t get me wrong, I like to feel pretty as much as the next girl and I’m not ashamed to say it. It’s just that the closet was filled with colors I usually tried to avoid and it reminded me of a closet that would belong to one of the desperate housewives. I tended to gravitate towards blacks and dark blue colors and sometimes the occasional white, but it almost always ended up with a huge stain before the day ended. This closet was filled with more colors than I knew existed and if you think I was exaggerating, I wasn’t. Well, maybe a little.  

I rummaged through the closet ignoring anything I deemed too fancy for a meeting with the man I loathe, which turned out to be all of the closet. Giving up, I considered not changing for our meeting so that I could show him how little I cared about respecting him, but after insulting the pajamas’ seashell design so many times in my head, I decided to just pick something before Taeyong came barging back in.  

I took out a pair of leggings from one of the baskets and put them on, checking the mirror to make sure they weren’t too see-through. Then, I found an emerald green dress. The color caught my eye and greatly reminded me of not only the necklace, but of the dress I had stolen from IU’s corpse. Maybe a detail of the story, I was glad to have left out. Unlike the dress from that night though, this dress was very casual looking. At first glance, I had almost mistaken it for a long-knitted sweater. Maybe it was. Either way, it covered enough of my lower half that I didn’t have to pick out anything else to wear underneath besides the leggings.  

I looked in the mirror. The dress was nice, but still too nice to feel completely comfortable in, especially when it was paired with two black eyes. My hair was a mess, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want Jaehyun to think for a second that I was trying to impress him, so I allowed it to remain in its tangled state.  

Just as I knocked on the door, I realized that I had forgotten to look for something I could have used to protect myself, but it was too late.  

“You look nice.”

“Pound sand, Taeyong.”

Taeyong raised his hands in a surrendering motion and I heard a laugh.

It wasn’t just Taeyong, Doyoung was there too.

Great.

Based on how much of the house I had already seen, I thought that Jaehyun’s office would be several minutes away, but here we were only a few rooms apart. There wasn’t enough time to psych myself up and before I knew it, I was already being forced through the doorway by a less than patient Doyoung.  

I nearly stumbled onto the floor but was able to catch myself at the last minute. The first thing I noticed going in was an empty desk, then the large window behind it and the bookshelves on each of its sides. I could hear Taeyong scolding Doyoung in a hushed tone as they also entered the room. I was relieved thinking that it was only us three who made up the room’s inhabitants, until a deep voice announced its presence, startling me in the process.  

“Ah, good. You’re here.”

Jaehyun was leaning against another bookshelf beside the door we walked through. He was holding a short crystal glass filled with a clear liquid and a few noticeable ice cubes floating around.  

He pulled his body off the wall and approached us. Taeyong and Doyoung stood behind me but that didn’t stop Doyoung from holding me in place by my arm, not that I was brave enough to go anywhere anyway.  

Jaehyun stopped directly in front of me and took a sip of his drink. His eyes grazed over my body like he would a car when inspecting its new paint job.  

“I assume you two brought her here without any problems?”  

Jaehyun’s question was directed toward the two men behind me, though he kept his eyes fixed on me as he asked it. I avoided his gaze.

“That is correct, sir, I made her aware of the circumstances she’d be putting herself in if she refused to come willingly,” Taeyong announced.  

The intimidating man tapped the glass with his middle finger a few times before responding.

“Good, you may leave us now.”

Following their boss’s orders, the two men exited the room. The sound the door made as it closed felt a lot louder to me than it probably was.  

Jaehyun made his way to the desk and sat down, setting his drink on a nearby coaster while I stayed put.

“Aren’t you going to sit down?” He asked with a sly smirk.

I looked at the chair facing opposite his. His desk was large enough that it would provid quite a bit of separation between us, but it still wasn’t enough. Nevertheless, I obeyed.

I kept my eyes glued to the drink on the table, but in the corner of my eye, I could still see him staring at me, an amused look on his face.  

“Oh, I’m sorry. Can I offer you a drink? I’m drinking a gin and tonic, myself.”

I could feel my stomach turn sour as my mind flashed back to that night I almost drank the spiked gin in Lucas’ wine cellar.

“No? Then let’s get to the point, shall we?”

My eyes flashed towards him for a split second. His voice had gotten noticeably colder and so had his expression.

“You were brought here under suspicion for being involved in the murder of one of my family members. That reason being the emerald necklace you wore matched the one owned by said family member, a necklace that was specially designed for her wear.”

The way he spoke about his sister as if she were a stranger was baffling.  

Were they not close or was he trying to be professional? Clearly, he had to have been torn apart by her death for him to have acted the way he did towards me.  

“Since I recognized the necklace, we certainly had reason for suspecting your involvement in her death which is why we brought you here.”

Brought? He makes it sound like I was invited here for tea and a chat.  

“During the interrogation, you refused to tell us your actual relationship with Lucas and so we may have taken things further than we usually would have to extract the truth from you, given the importance of the matter we were asking you about.”

May have taken things further than usual? Was this supposed to be an apology? 

It sounded like he was reading from a script.

“I didn’t tell you that I killed Lucas because I thought you would kill me if you found out!” I angrily blurted out.

Jaehyun’s eyes continued to look at me in disinterest as though he had expected the abrupt disruption.

“Seeing as your story has been confirmed,” He continued, ignoring my outburst like he would a child’s tantrum.  

“-we now know that you are not involved in IU’s death and that you somehow managed to kill the person responsible-”

Jaehyun’s eyes showed a hint of distaste as he finished his sentence.

“-even if it somehow occurred by accident.”

I could feel the rage bubbling inside of me.  

“I recognize that you may feel as though I’ve committed a great injustice towards you.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” I stood up from the chair and slammed my fist on the desk unintentionally spilling the contents of the half empty glass on the desk. The liquid managed to drench several important looking documents, but still, Jaehyun made no effort to save them.  

Yet for the first time, Jaehyun’s eyes showed something other than utter discontent. They widened in surprise at the sudden gesture only to return to their previous state within an instant.

“That being the case, I would like you offer you reparations,” He kept going, leaving me astounded, my fist still on the desk.  

“We are willing to offer you 120,000,000 won (roughly 100,000 USD) in exchange for your silence.”

I didn’t care how scared I was of this man. He thinks that he can call me in here and tell me that this is my fault? That he isn’t responsible for all the shit that happened since that night? I was kidnapped, bound, beaten, injected with adrenaline and starved. I’ll never be able to return to the Heart Breakers again. Wendy could be dead for god’s sake! And this bastard thinks that he can just pay me off in exchange for my silence?

“No.”  

Jaehyun raised his eyebrows at my response.  

“Really? I thought it’d be a good deal for someone like you. I guess I could raise th-”

“Someone like me?”

I had been avoiding his gaze for most of our meeting thus far, only taking the occasional glance to gauge his reactions, but I had gotten gutsy. I looked him directly in the eye with an intensity I didn’t know existed. I knew what he meant but I was daring him to say it outright.  

I questioned my state of mind as I swore I could see the slightest smirk on his lips.  

“Oh, I just meant that for someone of your profession, I’m sure there are a lot of things you’d be willing to do to earn such a generous amount of money.”

I was shaking. I couldn’t believe this was happening, not that I was surprised. I wasn’t exactly expecting a warm apology, however for him to not only take zero responsibility for what he did to me, but to insult me?  

“We can negotiate the specific amount at a later time, but for now, you will be given full accommodations during your time here. If you need or want anything within reason, someone will fetch it for you.”

“During my time here? I told you that I had nothing to do with IU’s death. You said you confirmed it! You can’t just keep me locked u-”

“You are free to leave whenever you want, but I’d advise against it.”

Confusion took over my features and I silently scolded myself for being so easily readable. The man in front of me began to elaborate.

“Wayv, the group whose leader you killed knows of your actions from that night and have demanded we hand you over to them. Now I can’t say I know for sure what they want with you, but I can tell you it isn’t good. Once we found your name, we had no trouble finding information about you, such as your home address and I can guarantee that Wayv is capable of the very same.”

“W-what?” I asked, knowing full well what he meant.

Instead of repeating himself or rephrasing his words, Jaehyun merely tapped his fingers on the desk as if he were keeping time.

Wayv wanted me dead. There was no denying it.  

“So what? If I leave then that’s it, I’m dead? What am I gonna do, just stay here forever?”

“That’s up to you, but I can assure you that we are working to take down Wayv. We may require your assistance in the near future, but nothing is decided yet.”

“My assistance? You mean use me as bait?”

“Not necessarily,” He answered.

I gawked at him in disbelief.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, now I have to remain here under the same roof as him. It didn’t matter how big this house was, there would never be enough rooms between us.  

“The money we’re offering you is to compensate you for your silence once you leave, but for reconciliation, I will allow you to stay here until Wayv is dealt with. I’ll make sure my men and staff do everything in their power to make you comfortable during your stay here as long as you’re willing to follow a few house rules.”

“Rules?” I quirked.

“I’ll have Taeyong explain all of that to you once you head back to your room.”  

Jaehyun stood up and finally started collecting the soiled documents that had remained on the desk all this time. I simply stared at him, waiting for him to go on, but he didn’t. It was like he was silently telling me to let myself out, but I’d be damned if I was going to make this easy for him after all he’d done.  

I knew that he was right and that leaving this house was suicide, yet I couldn’t stand the idea that he believed he was doing me a favor instead of what he was actually doing which was throwing money at the mess he made of my life.

I stayed there and watched him, knowing that he would eventually have to acknowledge my presence since I made no effort to remove myself from his office.

After several agonizing moments, Jaehyun looked at me and stopped what he was doing.

“Taeyong? Could you please come in and escort Miss y/l/n to her room?” He called out.

Shit.

Taeyong entered the room and walked towards us. I had to take my chance.

“I have a request,” I stated clearly.

Taeyong froze in place unsure of what he should do while Jaehyun quirked an eyebrow.

“And what might that be?”

I swallowed hard, previously unaware at how much my nerves were affecting my body.

“That night, the night you took me, no, kidnapped me. I saw one of my closest friends get shot. Wendy. I want to know if she is okay. Not just her, I want to make sure they’re all okay, and if not, I want you to do something about it.”

Jaehyun paused, deliberating on my request.  

“Is that all?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“And if she didn’t make it?  What then? How do you suppose I make that right?” He pressed, dropping the papers that were in his hands back onto the table.

I looked down at the floor. I didn’t know how he could make things right... in any sense, but I had to know whether Wendy was okay.  

Jaehyun eyes left my softly trembling frame to meet Taeyongs. I didn’t see this but Taeyong nodded his head signaling something to his boss.

“I’ll send in some of my men to search out what they can about your colleagues and the state of your friend Wendy. I’ll let you know what they find. Taeyong?”  

Taeyong grabbed my arm and brought his lips to my ear.

“Come on,” was all he said before guiding me out of the office.  

As we walked through the doorway, I immediately spotted Doyoung leaning against the wall with a bored look on his face. Taeyong paused for a second to give him an update.  

“I’m taking her back to go over the house rules, you good?” He asked.

Without answering, Doyoung fixed his gaze on me as I was half hidden behind his colleague.  

“Boo!” He half whispered half shouted.

I jerked back slightly only to recoil in embarrassment.

Taeyong rolled his eyes.

“I guess we’ll be off,” He announced, motioning that it was time for us to head back.

<><><>

Doyoung waited until Taeyong and I had disappeared from his vision before knocking on his boss’s door.  

“Come in,” Jaehyun consented.

Doyoung opened the door and propped himself against the doorframe. Jaehyun looked up at him from his desk chair.

“What?” Jaehyun demanded.

Doyoung chuckled at his boss’s intimidation tactics and took his time in forming a response, something most other members wouldn’t dare to do.

“I said, what?” Jaehyun thundered.  

Although Doyoung’s laughter had faded, his smile remained. He took a step forward and closed the door behind him.  

“Did you really mean it when you said she was free to leave, Boss?”

Jaehyun’s furrowed brows relaxed. Leaning back in his chair and propping his feet on the table, he opened his desk draw and pulled out two cigars. Doyoung walked over to his desk and sat in the very chair Y/N had used only a few moments prior. Jaehyun extended one of the cigars to the man who readily accepted. Doyoung leaned forward as Jaehyun lit his cigar with a silver lighter, feet still on the desk. Running a hand through his oddly streaked hair, he took in a puff of smoke and held it for a few seconds before releasing it into the air. Jaehyun took his time in lighting his own cigar before turning back to Doyoung.

“Say what you will about the old codger, he always did buy the best stoags,” He laughed examining the cigar band.  

“Stealing from daddy’s stash, are we?” Doyoung jokingly mocked.

Jaehyun’s face turned cold. Removing his feet from the desk, he leaned forward, staring into  Doyoung’s eyes.  

“What did you say?”  

Doyoung matched the man’s intense gaze, leaning in to show his lack of fear. Their eyes remained fixed on each other’s, unblinking until-

“Pfft!” Jaehyun chortled, Doyoung instantly joined in his laughter.

“So, you heard everything, huh?”

“Well, you did ask us beforehand to wait by the door until you both were finished,” Doyoung reminded.

Jaehyun nodded before setting the cigar down on a marble cigar stand.

“So, you’re really going to let her go?”

“Of course not. If Wayv wants Y/N, then I will do everything in my power to make sure she’s out of their reach.”

“Then why did you tell her that she was free to go?”  

Jaehyun paused.

“I’m still not sure she’s telling the truth.”

“Sir?”

“If she’s working with Wayv, then she’ll have no reason to stay other than to find out information. Taeyong is informing her of the rules she’ll have to follow as we speak assuming she chooses to stay. These rules will make it impossible for her to gain access to any information we don’t want Wayv to know. If we make it clear to her that these are the conditions under which she may stay at the estate and that they will continue to be enforced until Wayv is dealt with, then she will have no reason to stay since her life wouldn’t actually be in any danger in the first place.”

“You really thought this through, didn’t you?” Doyoung complimented.

“Right down to the last detail,” Jaehyun mused.

“So, what are the rules?”  

“Taeil is currently bugging and placing cameras in her room, which she will be informed of. Only the bathroom is free from any form of recording devices. These cameras are transmitted through wiring to a house computer disconnected from Wi-Fi and therefore unhackable meaning she won’t be able to send any messages to Wayv through the cameras. She will be under constant supervision and she will be unable to leave the room without-”

“-being escorted by one of 127’s members for the entirety of your excursion out of your room,” Taeyong read out loud.

We had returned to the room I had woken up in and Taeyong had started informing me of the rules that were listed on his clipboard.  

“What? This is ridiculous.” I exclaimed.

Taeil was setting up cameras, checking to make sure there were no blind spots.

“There won’t be any cameras in the bathroom so feel free to change comfortably in there. As long as we have the room completely covered, we’ll be able to see anything suspicious you might bring in there,” He explained.

“The boss said he believed my story. Why is he making me follow all these rules and why do I have to have cameras in my room?”  

“He does believe you. We still have to take precautions though given you aren’t a member of 127,” Taeyong interjected.

“There are still more rules we need to cover. You aren’t allowed to leave the room during any of 127’s meetings without specified permission from the boss. You will not be allowed access to any devices that allow you to contact anyone outside of this house, but don’t worry, we will have plenty of things available for your entertainment. You are allowed to ask for anything within reason.” Taeyong continued.

“What do you mean, within reason?”  

“Okay, good question. Things within reason are things such as clothes, books, makeup, small pets, furniture.”

“Pets?”

“Yeah, small ones like cats or birds. We could have one delivered tomorrow if you wanted. Just don’t name it Louis.”

“What? Why?”

“Umm. Don’t worry about it. Anyways, things that are out of reason are things that can be used to break any of the rules on this list along with things in extreme excess like houses or things that are impossible to fulfill.”

I stared at Taeyong in disbelief.

“Oh, and you can just ask me or Taeil when you have a request. It’s best not to ask the boss himself since he has a lot going on now.”

“What if I want to leave my room?”

“There will be a member at your door at all times. When we’re all in a meeting, we’ll either have a member stay in your room with you and catch them up later or we’ll have one of the staff watch over you. When you want to leave your room, just open the door and whoever is there will act as your escort.”

Hopefully Doyoung won’t be guarding my room all that much.

I stopped for a second to process everything he was saying.

“And if I refuse to follow the rules?”

“I can make arrangements for you to go back home or wherever you want to go along with the money that was promised to you if agree to our confidentiality agreement, but I have to warn you, you won’t last long out there with Wayv on your case and we have other ways of making sure you keep quiet. Ways that aren’t as beneficial to you as the agreement is.”

“So, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice. Sometimes the best option just isn’t what you’d hope.”

I made no efforts to hide my frustration as Taeyong moved on to explaining how things would be from now on. Meals would be made by the few staff that were kept on hand which according to Taeyong, were not that many. According to him, they had a few staff members that were specially trained to double as bodyguards in case of any house invasions. Besides these select few, the majority of staff were sent home on paid leave to prevent any issues while dealing with Wayv. There were always risks of traitors so limiting the amount of people who entered the household was necessary. Sometimes they would send outside staff to go on delivery runs, but everything that came into the house went through inspection. I was allowed to eat in anywhere and anytime I wanted, but if I chose not to leave my assigned room, meals would be delivered three times a day at set mealtimes. Taeyong told me that he would find a clock for my room. He also asked if the room was to my liking, telling me that he chose one of the smaller rooms since he believed there was a large chance that I would feel more at home in one of the less flashy rooms. He was right but he still offered to move me into a bigger one if at any point I choose to do so.  

Taeyong left for a little bit and returned with the clock he promised. During his absence, Taeil explained to me where all the cameras were in the hopes that it would make me feel more comfortable knowing. It didn’t. Taeil left and then it was just me and Taeyong.  

“I know that this will be a drastic change for you but try as best you can to adjust to your new surroundings. You might have to follow several rules but remember that you are a guest in this house, and you won’t have to worry about anyone hurting you here.” He promised, getting up to leave.

“That is, unless I break one of the rules,” I muttered.

Taeyong stood in the doorway, looking at me with those same sympathetic doe eyes he had flashed me earlier. I hated them. I hated how they were always filled with pity.  

“Try your best not to,” He told me as he started to close the door.

“Welcome to the Soo-man estate.”

I looked at the clock.  

11:42.

How was it still this early after everything that happened today?

#nct #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #nct au #nct smut #nct mafia au #nct mafia #nct 127 au #nct 127 mafia au #nct 127 mafia #nct 127 smut #nct dream mafia #nct dream au #nct dream mafia au #nct dream smut #wayv au #wayv smut #wayv mafia #wayv mafia au #wayv fanfic #jaehyun au #jaehyun mafia #jaehyun #jungjaehyun #nctjaehyun #nct 127 jaehyun #nct127 #nct127 smut #nct127 au

[elsanna-shenanigans]

April Contest Submission #11: One Last Heist

Words: ca. 3,000  Setting: Modern AU Lemon: no CW: Swearing and name calling

***

Tonight, on Arendelle News Network. Westergaard Groups has secured rights on the coin of the kingdom Arendelle. The coin, which has the observe of two ruling Queens of the kingdom of Arendelle in the 19th century, took the world by storm early this year. The coin confirmed the theory of two female monarchs rule the kingdom after being debated for decades.

The CEO of Westergaard Groups has assigned Hans Westergaard to be responsible for the safety of the coin. The young and capable Hans has been favored out of thirteen brothers.

However, the coin may be targeted by high-profile robbery groups. The infamous Snow Sisters has a tracked record of successful heist that has caused fear among security firms. Rumor has it the elder sister possesses ice power that contribute to their success but no confirmation on the claim. The coin may be their next target.

When asked about the Snow Sister, the CEO believes Hans could handle the responsibility. He had faith with the young prodigy to keep the company’s most valuable item in good hands.

Westergaard Groups also holds other ornaments and artifacts in its collection.

***

The car drove into the falling rain at midnight. Puddles of water slush through as the car goes by. It was Elsa’s favorite weather, next to snow because she was in her element. As she was born with ice and snow powers, she had a knack with water since snow was just frozen water. She was more confident than she normally would. Which is important for tonight’s heist.

They received a job a month ago to rob the medieval form the Westergaard Groups. The client was interested in the symbolic of the coin and would be ashamed if the coin was kept by someone who didn’t appreciate history. The job was from one of Elsa’s oldest clients. Not that Anna knew who they were since the older sister was the one who dealt with them. Anna would usually prepare the gears and come up with the plans. Elsa gave her second opinion on it. Most of the time, Elsa agreed with Anna’s plan which made her really happy.

It was a simple heist job. Nothing too difficult for them. Especially when Hans overseers the security. Oh, she had not heard that name for a long time. That douchebag of a child wanted to guard the coin. As if he was something to prove to his others 13 brothers or something. Could not wait to see his face when he found out the coin was no longer under their possession anymore.

They arrived at the targeted location, the Westergaard tower or what Anna would call it, the Dick tower. The reason was the phallus-like design, similar to a certain human’s body part (no need to describe it). So fitting with the family’s personality.

Based on Anna’s research, the coin stored at the underground level of the tower. Secured inside a vault with sophisticated security and what not. Luckily for the snow sisters, Hans and his men were idiots and left some loopholes that the sisters could exploit. Was it intentional or not wasn’t the matter, all that mattered was that this heist would be done swiftly.

Elsa’s blue eyes met with Anna’s green eyes. No word needed to exchange as they could communicate by staring at each other in the eyes. But as usual, Anna stole a peck on the lips. Elsa still falls for it after many Anna had done it. A hint of blush could even be seen under dim light from the dashboard, making Anna so satisfied that Elsa was still a shy person under those regal and serious demeanors. It never got old.

Elsa parked the car across the street and went outside. Elsa stood facing the tower and Anna joined her afterward while put on her hoodie. The falling rain-soaked Elsa’s uncovered hair. Even though Anna found it silly to not cover it, the sight of her sister was breathtaking. The look of determination and focus made Anna feel hot inside.

Focus, Anna. Focus. Be like Elsa. You have an important job tonight. The plan is simple, break in and break out, and nobody gets hurt.

Anna’s inner hype vanished when a chill hand held hers. Anna turned her head to see Elsa gave her a warmest smile.

Would be great if this was a date?

Even since they started their career five years ago, they have been working non-stop. Started from a small chocolate house and slowly raised to the banks and vaults. Anna was there every step of the way at her sister’s side. She and Elsa worked as a team efficiently. Able to know to do and what each other thought was a blessing and an advantage in the field.

Although Anna could not help but wished to have at least kept one of the items that they stole. She knew those items for the clients and breaking their trust would be bad for them, but the stolen items caught Anna’s eyes. And tonight, was no differ.

***

Elsa walked alone to the main lobby. There were two guards sitting behind the counter, one of them was looking at their phone and the other was asleep. The loud footsteps from Elsa’s hills alerted the guard. He snapped at Elsa’s direction, “Ma’am, this place is closed.”

And with that, Elsa’s raincoat dropped and so did the guards’ jaws. She revealed the bodice that hugged her body, showing her model-like silhouette. Her eyes opened half-way and nipped her lips. Elsa sauntered with a wide swing of the hips. Footsteps on the marble floor reverb in the lobby, mesmerized for those who heard them.

The guard dropped everything that he was doing, and his partner opened his eyes wide open. The guard suddenly collapsed and snoozed away after Anna zapped them from behind. Anna took the access card from them.

“Damn perverts. I hate it when they look at you like that!”

“It can be like that sometimes,” she holds her hand, “Jealous?”

“No.” Elsa gave her a smirk. “Okay, yes. I’m jealous, so what?”

“Don’t worry,” Elsa stood closer to Anna, “I only have eyes on you.“

Gosh, Elsa. You’re making me flustered.

“You’re welcome. Nice shot, by the way. You always amazed me with your sharpshooting.” said the elder.

This was going to be a difficult night.

***

Rows of monitors stood in hanged on the wall. The two night watch monitored the tower’s CCTV to see any unusual activities. One of them spotted one.

“Look, the camera on hall six is foggy again.”

“Relax, sometimes the camera got foggy. It happened a few times before.”

The guard looked back to the monitor, “Hope nothing bad happens tonight.”

***

They walked to the hallway to the vault. Since the CCTV has been dealt with, Anna could zap the other guards with ease. She asked Elsa to obscure the vision of those cameras by fogging the lens. The older sister used the vent to channel her power to reach out the camera. It alerted them to the anomaly in the first week but died down after a month. They think it was a normal occurrence by now.

The vault finally opened after a conversation with the guards, which may boil Anna’s blood by how friendly the conversation went. The coin displayed inside the glass display box in the middle of the vault. The camera will not be problem, but Anna took out a can and sprayed it around the vault. Lasers can be seen along the path.

“Allowed me,” said Anna.

Anna slithering her way through the web of lasers. She had trained back at their safehouse by replicating the laser exactly as now. She took a month of training so she could do this without break a sweat.  She glanced at her sister and pleased to find out she was watching her intently. Every step she took brings her closer to the coin. Anna could see the intricate detail of the coin. The engraving of the 19th century monarch was so detailed, Anna could see the faint freckles on Queen Anna.

She had seen the coin before, based on her research and planning, but when looked at them up closely, nothing short of breath taking. Two queens ruled the kingdom side by side. Not only that, but they were also sisters. Talked about defying the status quo of the 19th century. Lesbian and incest, such scandalous. She wondered how they managed to live life with such a controversial lifestyle. From what she researched, the youngest was warm while the elder was cold. Together, they made up a great pair. No wonder why they ended up together.

Anna reached in front of the display. She sprayed more to see there were any hidden lasers, which were none. She looked around the display, only to find out the coin placed on seemed to be a pressure sensitive detector as she expected. She brings out a dummy coin which weighs the same as the coin. But she needed a placeholder while switching the coin.

When she was ready, she lifted the glass display and slipped a chewing gum on the detector. She needed to do it previously. Failure to achieve might activate the lockdown procedure and trap them inside. She applied pressure on it and lifted the coin. So far, everything went well. She put the dummy coin on the stand and kept the coin inside the cushioned case. She admired it for a few seconds before storing it inside her bag.

She slithered her way back to her sister. She moved a bit suggestively this time to see if she could make her sister flustered. She stretched and bended her body inhumanly. The laser was all forgotten. She locked her eyes with her sister. She trusted her instinct to cross the laser field. Anna put a bit more stretched on her acrobatic because why not.

Anna safely out her laser field and judging from Elsa’s expression, she quite enjoyed the show from her little sister. Eyes dilated and lip biting. Elsa pulled her sister and pinned her on the wall, followed by a chaste kiss.

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Don’t know. You judge me,” Anna smirked.

Elsa kissed her again. This time, the kiss lingered longer. After a while, they parted lips. The older sister rested her forehead on the little one.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Anna.”

“I know. I like when you worry about me.”

“Always.” Another peck from Elsa. Anna addicted with the kiss. She just wanted more.

“C’mon, let’s get out here.”

***

“Wanna play a bet?” said the guard.

“What is it?”

“We guess which camera will be foggy next. Every time you’re right, I’ll give you ten euros, and every time I’m right, you have to give me ten euros. If either of us are right, we keep our money.”

“Sound fun. Let’s bet.”

“Deal.”

***

They walked out after a successful heist.  However, a figure stood tall at the end of the door. Elsa and Anna cautiously walked towards it. Anna could see familiarity, however.

“We meet again, Anna,” the figure spoke.

Oh, it was him.

“Anna, you met Hans before.”

She sighed in defeat, “Yes, I met him before. He’s my ex from high school,” said Anna timidly.

“And you’re still cunning as always. Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this moment? Ever since the foggy CCTV, I knew it was you two doing. I stayed up all night for the past month. Everyone thinks I’m crazy for staying up late because I was expecting you two to come.”

“Looks like you plan worked, Anna.”

“Yup, poor Hans for being responsible. Just like I planned.”

“Excuse me, Miss Elsa. I hope you wouldn’t mind if I talk to you sister.” Said Hans.

“Proceed, ” Elsa said in monotone.

“How are you being? I heard you’re fucking with your sister now. Gosh, I’m glad I broke up with you.”

Anna gritted her teeth to stiffen her anger. Hans and his snarky remark always made her blood boiled. She glad she with Elsa now.

“Shut up, Hans. That’s none of your business. Besides, I’m the one who broke up with you. You cheated on me. I can’t believe you’re dating someone else behind my back.”

“At least I didn’t fuck my own siblings.”

“That doesn’t make you less of an asshole.”

“Whatever, sister fucker. Now that our past is settled, let’s talk about the present. The coin?”

“Sorry, this thing is on its way to the new owner.” said Anna.

“You know I won’t let that happen.” 

“Oh yeah, what are gonna do? Stop us?”

“I do what I must.”

He brings out something from this back. A rifle-like contraption with a tank placed on top of it.

“Behold, ze flammenwerfer.”

“Why does he call that in German?” said Elsa.

“He does that sometimes. To make him look smart by being bilingual. I may have liked him back then because of it,” said Anna.

“Is that why you always flustered whenever I speak in our mother language?” Elsa smirked.

She could not hide the blush crept into her face as a flash of memory hit her. “What? No, of course not,” said Anna.

“Er du sikker på det?”

“De… de… definitely.”

“Ladies, I’m right here.”

“We will continue this later,” said Elsa. “May I know why you’re in charge with security?”

“As you know, I was chosen by my father to guard the coin. All my thirteen brothers were against his decision, but I managed to persuade him to give me the task, with a catch. I need to prove myself worthy to bestow this position. And what better way to prove by capturing the infamous Snow Sister. Now, you two are here. I shall capture you both and show you to my father that I’m worthy and proving to my brothers they were wrong.”

Hans ignited the flame thrower, “With the power of fire, I shall stop you…”

An ice blast pushed him back and pinned to the wall with ice. His flammenwerfer fortunately survived from the blast. He struggled to move as the ice covered his lower torso and both his arms.

“He brags a lot, doesn’t he?” Elsa said.

“Yeah. He won’t stop talking. Always talk about this and that.”

“Good thing you broke up with him.”

The sisters walked to poor Hans stuck on the wall. He still tried to free himself from the frost but with no avail.

“You two are going to pay for this.”

“I don’t think so, playboy.” Anna snide.

He grunted. “Go and run off with sister, Anna. You’re disgusting, sister fucker.”

Anna was about to punch him only to be stop by Elsa.

“Yes, Anna is a sister fucker because she only fucks me. Unlike you, womanizer.”

“Fuck off.”

“We will.”

“Say hi to your thirteen brothers and your father. I’m sure they will be proud of you.” They fled off from the tower.

“Curse you, Snow Sisters!”

***

“This is ridiculous.” 

“Said the loser. While I am 100 euros richer tonight.”

He grunted by the loss. As the fog faded, he saw someone familiar. “Hey, it’s that the boss?”

“Yeah. Oh shit. Scramble the alarms! The Snow Sisters are here!”

***

The alarm blared after they went outside. but the police arrived at the scene. The shower of rain still poured when they got out.

With a flick of her finger, ice shards formed at the bottom of the police’s car. It punched the tires and froze the door the prevent the policemen from getting out. Another flick, wind rushed through from the west. Frost started to build up as the temperature of the surrounding plummeted to subzero. The police had to keep their body low to prevent them from being blown out of the place.

Some of the cops attempted to chase them but their vehicles broke down due to the extreme weather.

While chaos ensued, the snow sisters used this chance to get to their car. Elsa led the way, holding her sister’s hand as she guided through the snowstorm. They giggled along the way in. After safely boarding the car, Elsa turned on the car and zoomed out from there. The snowstorm slowly faded away as they drove away.

***

“Um, Elsa. I want to tell you something.”

“Is it something important?”

“Yes.”

The one of Elsa’s hands left the steering wheel and pressed the autopilot button. The car chimed to indicate the car had engaged the autopilot. Only then, Elsa let go of the steering wheel and turned her head towards Anna.

“I’m listening,” Elsa said.

The stern voice from Elsa left Anna goosebumps. She was a woman with focus and when she focused, she would give full attention to the subject matter. And that subject matter now was her little sister. Anna gulped as she tried to proceed with her conversation.

“I was thinking if we could take a break from this,” she paused to see if there were any reaction from Elsa. Since there were none, Anna continued, “It’s been five years since we began our career and we’ve been working non-stop since. I was hoping we could go somewhere where no one knows. Just you and me. Spending time together and forget the world for a while.”

The stern from before softened and a smile crept to the elder’s face, “Anna, you have no idea how long I am longing this moment. The truth is, this was meant to be our last job.”

“Wait, what? Really?”

“As you said, we spent so much of our time into our career that we didn’t spend time for ourselves.” Elsa held Anna’s hand. “And actually, this job wasn’t for a client. It’s actually a personal reason. And it was for you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I never gifted you anything all those years and tonight I wanted to change that. The coin symbolizes two sisters who engaged one another to become one. I want to be like that with you. I want us to become a thing.”

Elsa took the coin and placed it in Anna’s hand. Anna could not believe her wishes had finally come true. To spend time with her sister together and also the coin.

“Thank you,” said Anna sincerely.

“You’re most welcome. Jeg elsker deg, Anna.”

“I love you too, Elsa.”

***

A/N:

Language translation: -

German: ze flammenwerfer – the flamethrower

Norwegian: Er du sikker på det? – Are you sure about that? Jeg elsker deg – I love you

Disclaimer: I used Google Translate to translate from English to the respective language, which might be wrong. Sorry in advance if I translated it wrong.

#elsanna #submission #April 2021 contest #prompt: break