post-break up heartaches

verse 3. in the warmth of your love and the comfort of your touch

⤷ sakusa kiyoomi, miya atsumu

⤷ verse 1 | verse 2

⤷ play. i'll be fine somehow by benjamin ingrosso, remember the mornings by clinton kane

commissions: open

⇢ SAKUSA was hardly a believer of gods, firm with following his principles of crediting only the existence of things he can see with his own eyes. he detested myths, fairytales, anything that is far from reality. he thinks they're foolish; you thought otherwise— you adored anything that had something to do fiction, always finding the comfort of it being an escape from the harsh world you live in. it was the very same reason why the living room of the apartment you used to share with him was filled with shelves, full of books that you've read countless times but never got tired of them.

he heaves a sigh as he enters the apartment, shoulders drooping because like any other day, he is met by nothing but silence. his figure stops by the doorway leading to the said living room, eyes scanning the said area with a profound longing swimming in them. he imagines you standing there, bright orbs that were full of wonder looking up the shelves that were much taller than you, in a dilemma because you have no idea what you wanted to read next. and then you'll probably sense his presence because you'll soon turn your head to his direction, giving him a beautiful smile that somehow lifts his mood up. you always felt him, you've always felt everything for him.

"welcome home, kiyoomi."

he feels his heart becoming heavier because after a few seconds, he's pulled back to the reality. you were gone... you weren't coming back and it's all because of him.

"let's get divorce, yn. i... don't feel anything anymore."

he wonders what made him think that way, because his present state was obviously the exact opposite of what has been said to you. regret pools even in the deepest pits of his stomach as he remembers it all— the dinners you prepared with only care and love for him in your mind, his monotonous voice as he spoke those words oh so carelessly, your failed attempts of giving him an understanding smile, only for your lips to wobble as you held in your cries,

i understand, kiyoomi... j-just send me the papers and i-i'll sign them as soon as possible.

the doorbell brings him back from his trail of thoughts, a small light of hope ignited within him that maybe... just maybe it's you. to his disappointment, he's faced by a delivery man, a brown envelope being held out to him, "mr. sakusa kiyoomi?"

he nods, cautiously taking the said object and signing some papers before coming back to the darkness of his house. carefully, he tears it open, his insides slowly but surely becoming twisted altogether as he takes out the contents of the envelope.

hello kiyoomi, you weren't sending any document to me so i took the initiative to get the divorce papers. i guess you're still busy with work so that's understandable. i signed it. i don't want to hold you back from your happiness so yeah, this is it. i... i just want to thank you for making me feel so many things for all the years. it was a pleasure being your wife. it might be a bit overbearing but keep in mind that i'll always love you, my feelings... they're all for you, no matter how many years may pass. goodbye.

sakusa was hardly a believer of gods... but as his hands clutch the diamond ring you once wore close to his chest, he begins to pray to all of them— to give him the power to turn back time, to undo the agony and pain he gave you, to let him see your smile once more, to give you each and every bit of his feelings again—

but like any other day, he is met by nothing but silence.

⇢ ATSUMU furrows his eyebrows together due to the sudden ringing of his doorbell because as far as he can remember, he wasn't supposed to have any guests today. he had already planned to sulk his day off away by watching some sappy dramas and movies, your favorite ones— so who in the world decided to break his agenda?

he huffs, placing the remote he was previously holding on the coffee table, and stands up, footsteps heavy as he trudges towards the door, eyes widening when he sees you through the peephole. he swears he's never opened the front door so fast, "yn!"

his heart quickly thumps against his chest as he takes in your form; despite the slightly visible bags under your eyes (he thinks it's due to you overworking as usual— he hopes it's because you're thinking of him the way he thinks of you), you shone bright like every single day that passed and he can't help but wonder what made him think of letting you go that night. i can find someone better than you, someone who won't bother me every fucking second just because they're so needy for attention, his words echo in his head.

he tries to give you a strained smile, cringing internally as he looks right into your eyes that held nothing but pure anger and disappointment for him, "we're not friends, atsumu. not anymore so drop the friendly act."

you walk past him and heads straight to the painfully familiar bedroom, ignoring the rushing footsteps behind you, along with the quiet begging that escapes his mouth, "i love you, yn. i'm sorry, please."

"i'm just here to get my things, not make amends with you and our relationship," you reply, harshly swallowing the vile feeling that attempts to get out of your throat, "i... i just... i know love isn't supposed ask for something back... but don't you think it was too one-sided considering we're in a relationship, tsumu? i barely see you and talk to you without you feeling all bothered and annoyed. i get it, you're tired... but i am not a punching bag, you don't get to take it out on me every single time you come home."

you take a deep breath, cursing because this was not in any of your plans for today. shoving the last pieces of your remaining things as quick as possible and slinging your bag over your shoulder, you take one last look at the room you once found comfort in, only feeling your heart clench because this same scenario was exactly what happened on your last night here— same break up scenario, same hearts aching, same atsumu looking at you regretfully, same hand that reaches out for you as you both stand by the doorway.

"stay... please. i can't do this without you," he croaks out, the grip on your wrist tightening because he's terrified, scared to let you go, scared that you slip out of his hold and never return.

you don't reply for a moment, not even sparing him a glance, before removing his hand, "i'll... give you a call... maybe... maybe not... i don't know."

you know you'll never do. you think he knows that too— still, he holds onto the hope your words provided him.

but no calls came despite him waiting until past midnight and as he lied on his bed, chest contracting due to the pain his heart feels, he chokes out a pathetic laugh,

so this is what you felt like when i broke countless promises that i made to you, huh, yn?

© SKIYOOSMI, 2021 — reposting, translating, editing, copying and any kind of plagiarism are strictly prohibited, thank you.

Kissing prompts (gosh, i love em all): 45 and buckytony?

The only thing that came into my mind when I read the prompt was: 'losing you would be my villain story' trope. So remember that ficlet where Tony was scared to hug Bucky cause he won't be able to let go? Well this is from that verse. And  I tried my best to execute it (don't know if I succeeded) and here it is:

idk how part of my reply got injected into the ask box but the link in there is click-able for the verse of the following story.

(from this list: Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.)

tw: blood, violence, mentions of body mutilation (basically a decapitated head that’s all)

-//-

Bucky’s already in the cradle when he lands; still clad in armour from neck down and he heads straight to where Helen Cho stands, manning the machine. 

“Talk to me.” He orders, not bothering with manners, voice still battle-strained and he’d apologize to her later, buy her a bouquet or something but for now -

“How is he?”

Cho looks ill when she smiles, mouth working around dull words; if she was going for reassurance, it sure looks terrible on her face. 

“Pending on the prognosis. Multiple organ laceration; I just drained his pericardial sac and stabilised his heart -,”

Tony grabs her by the shoulders, he doesn’t want to hear what more medical words she has to throw on him. He says what he needs her to do: “Save him.”

She opens her mouth, and he can already hear bullshit coming forth, “I can’t guarantee you anything at this point. I’m doing my part, his body is doing it’s -,” she wavers, her lashes flutter and then something shifts in her. 

“Mr Stark. You have to understand -,” she starts in a practiced cold tone and Tony, he cannot deal with this now.

Gauntleted fingers dig into her lab-coat clad frame, and he shakes her once before they’re quickly intercepted. 

Natasha’s cool gaze is fixed on him steadily even if she’s holding onto Helen Cho, six feet away from him. There’s someone arresting his arms from behind but he doesn’t care who, doesn’t put up a fight; that’s not why he’s here.

He needs Cho to know her priority. “I don’t care what it costs.” he looks into her eyes and tells her. This is between them and they both know what he means; there’s a vial of perfected extremis in the vault behind the wall. “I need you to save him. Do you understand?”

Helen Cho blinks, comprehension dawning upon her before she suddenly looks sick; lips pressed tight like she’s holding back her words from him. Good, Tony doesn’t want to hear her preach ethical violation to him. But he keeps looking at her until she agrees; because she has to. She has to know that he needs Bucky alive. No bargains in that matter.

Finally, she nods, quickly once. “I’ll do my best.”

And Tony leaves her to it, putting all his trust on her and he doesn’t wait. He has somewhere else to be. He shakes off the hands holding him back, and it’s Steve; his voice echoes his march; a pleading cry of “Tony, don’t!” 

-

Two hours later, he’s standing on the rubbles of what a HYDRA’s bunker used to be. The fat plop of dripping blood onto a blown out wooden plank under his feet slowly stirs him back to reality; wiping his vision off of its angry red and he computes the extent of the damage he’d done with a strange detachment.

For a minute, he stares at his right hand where the blood is dripping from; relaxed in posture, gauntlet still on, fingers fisting around a clump of hair from a decapitated head of someone whose face he recognized flashing on his HUD earlier that day. When he scanned for the bastard who fired that lethal shot. 

Good, he thinks. Good riddance.

His right palm whirs, flashing warning in blue and the satisfaction from blowing that head is -

He pulls in a breath and looks skyward. Directs energy into his thrusters and he flies to another bunker.

-

And another.

-

Three days after, he plugs in the armour to charge in a shitty hotel and stares at himself in the mirror; blank face, shirtless with a bloody abdomen and a bruised shoulder. 

They should have captured him long ago, he realises. He’s been going rogue all on his own, disconnected himself from the team and Rhodey and Pepper and he knows for sure that he’s breaking more law than he’d memorised twenty years ago. Somebody should have caught him; HYDRA or someone from WSC. Maybe even one of his teammates.

And yet here he is, still a free man, staining borrowed towels red from his first flesh wound since he started this vengeance streak.   

Somehow, that just fuels him to keep going.

-

Steve finds him underground in Kazimierz and he isn’t even surprised.

“I was wondering when you’d come,” he says, ready to fight, expecting an arrest. 

Steve, however, looks at him all pinched and that is even worse. Tony wants to tell him, no. Don’t show me that face. But he doesn’t have to because that look vanishes soon after and Steve nods tightly.

“If you’re doing this,” he says, “I’m coming with you.”

-

In retrospect, maybe Steve follows to keep him in line; if they catch someone alive, he’d say, “Let me deal,” and Tony lets him. He’d already destroyed the guy responsible, here forth if Steve wants to play saint and ease their death, he can go ahead and do it. Tony doesn’t care.

-

Two days later, he finds out what actually Steve wants. Catches Tony numb in the process of washing dirt and the inside of someone’s cheek - from when he’d hooked his fingers too deep - under his fingernails when Steve leans against the bathroom door and says,

“Come home, Tony.”

He turns off the tap and wipes his hands dry with a towel. There’s still something under his fingernails, unwashed, but he ignores that to ask Steve, “Is he awake?” 

Steve couldn’t give him a straight answer so, Tony chucks the towel on the counter, walks past him into the room they're sharing for the night and nods at the bathroom when Steve turns to look at him. “It’s all yours now. Unless you’re leaving, then I suppose you’d prefer to shower at home.”

He tears open the bag of chips, guzzles down two bottles of water before he shoves a handful of bland chips into his mouth. He knows Steve’s still looking, but he avoids his gaze, anyway. Keeps shoving more chips into his mouth even though he’s close to choking and only when he hears the bathroom door close, he stops.

-

They burn the fifth centre to the ground and leave to Chukotsky District for the sixth.

They share a room in another motel that night, vodka warming their insides and Tony shares a piece of him with Steve. 

“I get it now.” He tells him, eyes burning as he stares at his bare feet intensely.

“What?”

Blinking hard, he empties his plastic cup down his throat and looks up. “Why you’d kill for him,” he smirks. Not an ounce of feeling under his skin. 

Steve’s eyes flicker in the dim orange light. He says, “Not for the same reason as yours, no,” and he looks like he got something more to say following that. But whatever it is, Tony doesn’t hear it. 

-

The next morning, he wakes up to Natasha at the foot of his bed, Steve still fast asleep in his own.

She rubs a thumb on the inside of his ankle and joins them for the last bunker. 

“Come home,” she says later, wiping a bloody dagger in the inside of her left sleeve, watching grey clouds burst into the white sky next to Tony and she tells him, “He’s awake, you know. Asking for you.”

-

He’s stuffing clothes into his duffel bag, but hesitates when he’s about to pull the zipper. Not far from him, Steve pauses in rolling his socks. Natasha offs the TV; they’re watching him - both of them - have been watching him since they returned from that bunker.

Tony’s hands shake, and he buries one in his hair. “I’m not coming,” he tells them.

“Why?” Natasha cocks her head curiously. 

Steve plops heavily down on his bed. Its frame creaks. “Tony,” he begins, but Natasha’s fluid movement from the foot of his bed to Tony’s side, stops him. 

Tony’s knees buckle and when he sinks, she goes down with him; leans her head on his shoulder, drapes an arm over and she fills his sense with sweet strawberry smell while Steve looks wearily from across him. 

Tony keeps his eyes fixed on him, his thoughts on the sweet taste of Natasha’s scent on his tongue and he says, “He almost died because of me.”

Steve frowns, scrunching the socks into a ball in his hands, and he corrects Tony stiffly, “He took the hit for you. It was his choice.” 

“Well, he shouldn’t have!” Tony yells.

Natasha’s hand is soft on his cheek when she turns him around to face her. “You would have done the same,” she murmurs, levelled and calm, close to his ear. 

Steve’s jaw is clenched hard, but his words are soft. “We protect what we love, Tony.”

Blinking back hot tears, Tony looks away from both of them and grits out, “He’s an idiot.”

Steve snorts. Natasha presses a smile into his temple, and she suggests, “Maybe he’d like to hear that from you.”

-

Returning home after a week and a half should feel relieving but all he could think is about Bucky and the last time he saw him; bloody in his arms in Central Park and then lifeless in the cradle, and he couldn’t help the anxiety that boils from his chest to the back of his throat. 

That in itself buries his desire to check on Bucky, see for himself how he’s doing; make sure he’s all right.

“I’ve got to answer Pepper,” he blurts out, already stepping away from them; separating himself, and Natasha’s frown and Steve’s disappointed gaze accompanies him all the way to the workshop where he collapses on the couch.

“How’s he doing?” He asks into the throw pillow that smells like Bucky. “Friday?”

“Sergeant Barnes is healing well, boss. Although, he’d do better if he sees you.”

Bullshit. He doesn’t tell her.

“Did Dr Cho use the extremis?” He asks instead, pulse bursting through his arteries. 

When Friday says, “No, boss. There was no need for that,” he buries his head into the pillow and breathes Bucky in deeply; relief spreading like a balm under his breastbones.

“But boss,” Friday carries on, “Sergeant Barnes asked for you.” 

Before she could say more about that, he promptly mutes her.

-

Maybe he’s a coward. Maybe he’s afraid if he sees Bucky, he’d be accused to be the cause of his near death experience.

Or maybe he’s terrified when he asks why did you do that, Bucky would look at him like he’s an idiot, and say, “Because I love you, that’s why.” and Tony -

Tony knows he couldn’t handle hearing that. His heart would shatter into a million pieces.

So, maybe he’s a coward. Maybe what he’s really afraid of is breaking his own heart - call it a primitive reaction. He is a primate in DNA after all.

-

“Boss, Miss Potts is asking for you.”

“Tell her I’m busy inventing something that could triple her paycheck.”

“Boss.”

“What?”

“Sergent Barn-,”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, but he’s asking for -,”

“Mute.”

-

Maybe he’s running away.

And maybe he’s bad at it.

-

“Jesus.” he jumps, well past midnight, a few days after he’d returned, in the penthouse kitchen, in the middle of his supply raid (because Pepper pulled her rights and cut direct deliveries to the shop).

He’d calculated the risk, knew there was a 95% chance of him being caught by the very person he’s running away from. That’s why he’d planned his approach, carefully ran over it multiple times, asked Friday over and over to make sure no one was in the kitchen.

Should have counted in the fact that his AI is in love with her Sargeant Barnes.

The same Sargeant who asks calmly, “Any reasons you’ve been avoiding me?”

Tony clears his throat, drops his hand from where he’d clutched his chest. “Not in particular," he tries for nonchalance.

He didn’t turn on the light, but the silver glint of Bucky’s metal arm is unmistakable; tracing trajectory motion of his leap from the countertop to in front of Tony, infusing heat from their sudden proximity.

“I wanted to see you,” Bucky says, eerily flat, head tilted sideways as his blue-grey eyes study Tony from top to bottom then up. “But you refused.”

Throat clamping around a lump, Tony looks down at his empty coffee mug. At their bare feet and then at the cold tiles they’re standing on. He avoids the topic. “How are you doing?” He asks instead, looking up with false cheeriness. 

Bucky doesn't hesitate before he answers, “Better if I’d seen you.”

And Tony has to laugh at that. Jesus Christ, just how stupidly cheesy is this guy? Except he feels his cheeks warm, and he steps aside to get away with an airy, “Well now that you have, I hope you feel better.”

Bucky doesn't let him (of course he doesn't); blocks his path and his gaze bore into Tony when their eyes meet. Trying to pry something only he knows what and Tony, exhausted after two consecutive sleepless nights, lets him. 

If not for an excuse to allow himself drink in the sight of the man who took a laser to his chest for him and almost died. The man he'd lost his sanity for, killed for and then ran away from because he is a coward. 

His eyes fall on the lower left side of Bucky’s pectoral. If he looks harder, he thinks he could see a dark patch seeping inside out like spreading ivy. He shakes his head to clear his vision.

Bucky seems to read him well. He takes the mug away and catches his empty hand before bringing it to his chest. Then he places it over exactly where that wound had been last week; bleeding viscous blood all over them and when Tony looks up at him, desperate and scared like he was that day, he assures, “I’m fine. Still alive.”

And then, “C’mere,” he tugs. Pulling Tony closer, pressing his palm harder over his shirt clad chest; warm where they touch, and he asks, “Can you feel that? It’s still beating in there.”

And it is - His heart is. All healed and pumping serum tainted blood through his vessels; keeping him alive like he hadn’t been gasping for breath in Tony’s lap just last week. 

“Fuck.” Tony exhales.

Bucky takes it as a cue to pull him into his chest. Wraps him tight in a hug, and he buries his nose in Tony’s hair. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Tony tries to inhale but ends up choking on air. 

“I know.” Bucky repeats. Pressing lips to his forehead and then temple.

When he finds his voice, Tony fists the fabric overlying his left breast, head buried in warmth and he lets out a pained growl. “Don’t ever do that again.”

But Bucky, of all things, chuckles like he'd just heard a joke. “Can’t promise that, doll,” He drawls, grinning like the idiot he is. “If it happens another time, I’ll do the same thing all over again. Gotta protect my best fella,” he winks.

And it drives Tony so mad that he shoves at the man's chest and glares at him, venomous. Fingers shaking in clenched fists, locked inside white knuckles and he spits, “Fuck you.” At Bucky.

For a second, Bucky’s stunned. But something flashes in his eyes and he barks out a laugh soon after. 

"Yeah," he snorts. “Kid you not, I would really like you to.” 

And that - That shocks Tony into a stop; eyes blinking wide with disbelief, he stares at the man in front of him. 

“What?” Bucky laughs, fingers raking through his long hair as he shakes his head and when he looks up again, whatever he sees in Tony, it makes him square up, and he exhales in a rush. 

“Jesus, Tony. Don’t tell me you still don’t know how I feel about you. Choked on my blood and all I could do was look at you like you hung the moon - I saw that footage. The one they aired in the news? Sam showed me that thing, and Hell. The whole world saw how I feel for you baby, and you’re standing here looking at me like you got no clue."

He closes in then, urgent, and he catches Tony’s head in both hands; cradles his face like something precious and leans down to look into Tony's eyes.  

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart," he pleads. “Tell me you know how you make me feel. Tell me you know, I’m yours.”

And Tony, refusing to be shaken in the face of hopeful eyes and gentle hands - one ice cold while the other blood warm - grabs the back of Bucky’s head in a harsh fist and asks him roughly, “And you? Do you know how I feel about you?”

Bucky blinks then, a slow smile spreads across his face, eyes twinkling with sadistic joy and he grins, “Stevie told me what you did. Said you didn’t spare even one.”

“All of them,” Tony breathes, lungs blooming fresh with the smell of Bucky this close, this warm and he could taste his scent on his tongue with every breath he takes. 

Shivering, he glides his hand from Bucky's nape to the side of his neck, and he yanks him close until their foreheads press. “They can’t touch you now," he whispers into the small space in between them.

“Jesus, doll.” Bucky chuckles, dry and rough, palms pressing into Tony’s cheek, tilting his face up so their breaths intermingle and their noses bump, and the first brush of their skin that near is electrifying. Like stepping on a live wire; sizzling straight into the veins under their skins and it propels them to mash their mouths together in a desperate kiss. 

Giddy as they are with something vile and raw, they didn't care if their teeth clashed in the rush; painful and sharp, or if their kisses were too messy and wet. Their heads are too heady with the taste of their love and they feed it into each other’s mouths, drink it out of them and fuck - They laugh through it all. 

At one point, Tony yanks at Bucky's hair and hums, pressing harder in and Bucky presses equally hard in return. Neither wanting to give; only take, take and take until there’s nothing left and then more.

And they're greedy for contact, starving for each other. Trembling with wants so violent that it bursts through their pores; spilling like white hot lava, burning everywhere their skin touch and maybe they knock several furniture over -Tony doesn’t know for sure. 

He’s too busy getting lost in Bucky and the biting way he kisses, the unforgiving way he squeezes Tony’s ass. Too busy pulling him by the collar, fingers fisting in his hair as he nips back harder, hissing and groaning ‘bedroom’ into Bucky’s mouth, and ‘this way’ as they stumble across the living room, stubbing toes on coffee tables and chairs, stopping to wince and laugh before resuming kissing even more passionately than before. 

Eventually, after they knock over a vase and watch it break into thousand pieces, Bucky hoists him up and walks them to the bed, and it may be emasculating if he was in a different state of mind. But right then, head spinning from Bucky and only Bucky everywhere, Tony lets him have it. 

-

Later, he watches the sun spill over Bucky’s closed eyes, spread from his sleep-slack face to his naked torso and sheet tangled legs and he reaches out a hand to press it over Bucky’s left pectoral. 

Focuses in on the steady beat behind the ribs, listens to the sound of Bucky’s heart work its job; pumping life into his bones and eyes, and spreading pink to his lips and occasionally - like last night - blotting that lovely shade of red from his face to his neck and - 

It’s staggering how close he’d come to lose that; how close Tony had come to lose his mind with that.

Hours earlier, with kiss-swollen lips and sex mussed hair, Bucky had kissed every one of his fingertip and whispered, “Turned you into a murderer didn’t I?”

Tony had combed his falling fringe back with his free hand and easily admitted that, “Losing you would evidently serve to be my villain story. No doubt in that.”

Right now though, feeling Bucky more than alive under his palm, Tony tips his slack jaw close and kisses him good morning.

El Cumpleñero

AN: Fatass shout out to @aliencal​ and @hoodschick​ for letting me bounce ideas around, esp the last scene. And to my girl @d-oaks​ for editing as usual.

Request: 1 & 73 with Cal please? xxxxx “Stay here tonight.” “I missed you.”

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut, mentions of toxic relationships towards the end

Word Count: 3.5k words

January 2019

“Here, you can borrow something. Again, I’m so sorry.” Calum stammered as he guided Claudia in his room. He’s mentally punching himself; the one chance he had to impress her, he blew it by splashing beer all over her dress.

“Don’t worry about it, Calum. It was a moment of celebration. It’s not everyday we beat Luke and Sierra at beer pong. Plus, I finally get to raid your closet.” She reassured him.  

Claudia grabbed his white dress shirt with the thin black lines and went into the bathroom. She rummaged in her bag until she found some safety pins to pin them inside his shirt, so it looks better fitted on her. The shirt stopped a bit after the curve of her ass. Her long black boots gave her extra oomph, and she decided to slip on her leather jacket to give more attention to her ass. 

Calum was left speechless when she walked out of the bathroom. Sure, he had imagined her in one of his shirts, but he was not prepared for the actual thing. He caught a peek of the black lace covering her breast. Also enjoying how the bottom hugged her ass perfectly. Wordlessly, they walked out of his room. 

Drake’s verse in SICKO MODE echoed through the house, reminding her that Michael was in charge of music.  He  had volunteered to be the party’s designated DJ in the group chat where they had planned Calum’s party.  Luke said he was just going to connect his phone to Spotify and see what played. 

Duke ran up to her, standing on his hind legs to get her attention. 

"Duquito! I missed you, babas." Claudia exclaimed. She picked him up and kissed all over his face. She started to baby talk to him. Duke rested his head on her shoulder, and Calum never felt more jealous of his dog.

“You saw him less than five minutes ago.” 

“I know, those are five minutes too long without my Duquito.”

Calum shook his head at her comment. He reached for her hand and guided them to where the rest of the boys were. 

Luke and Sierra gave each other a knowing look when they saw the pair approach them hand in hand. They both claimed that Calum and Claudia are dating, but Ashton knew that they weren’t. Calum confided in him that she broke up with her boyfriend of three years in September, and he didn’t think it was okay for him to make moves on her. 

Calum sat down on one of the seats with Claudia taking a seat on his lap. He casually rested his arm around her waist and played with the hem of his shirt as they talked to the group. It was a simple gesture, but Claudia couldn’t help thinking about how his fingers would feel in her or while he gripped her hips as he fucked into her. 

“I'm gonna get another drink,” Claudia told him as she slid off his lap.

Calum watched her beeline to the makeshift bar with Duke on her trail. He looked back at the group, and everyone stared at him. 

“What?” He said, taking a sip of his beer.

“You need to make a move. She fucking likes you. You have to be blind to not see it, Cal.” Sierra said. 

Before Calum was able to respond, Ashton beat him to it. “You've got to be kidding me. She actually showed up.”

All their heads turned to look at the one person Calum didn't want there.

***

“Hey you might want to slow down. You've taken like eight shots of Patrón.” Claudia suggested as Calum poured himself another shot and one for her, sliding it to her. He downed his without a second thought.

“Well, what would you do when you see your ex at your birthday party?” Calum asked, downing another shot.

“Well, I hid in my room, watched all the Barbie movies on Netflix and kept sending my niece to bring me food until it was time to cut the cake.” Claudia replied. She was still angry that Paco was invited to the party. It was supposed to be just a family thing, so she made up the excuse that she had a bunch of homework to avoid going downstairs. Instead, she wrapped herself up in her blanket and ate gelatina.

“You also Facetimed me, remember?” They FaceTimed for a good three hours after his show. 

“Oh, yeah.”

“Okay, fine.  I’m taking your advice and going to watch Barbie in my room. Let’s go.” He stood up, knocking down his chair. Duke, who had been napping on Claudia’s lap, jolted awake. She caught him before he fell to the ground.

“I didn’t say that! I was only telling you what I did.” Claudia giggled. Her phone buzzed, showing a picture of her dad. She cursed, sliding her phone open. “Hi, papi.”

“Is that your dad?” Calum asked, shoving his face on her phone. “Hi, Mr. Santos.” 

Calum took Claudia’s phone and started talking to her dad. She passed Duke to Calum's lap and went to the kitchen to the fridge and got out the cake. 

"You don't seem like the type Cal goes for." Calum's ex said from behind her, startling Claudia and nearly making her drop the cake.

"Excuse me?" Claudia asked, confused. She turned back, looking to see who she was talking to. No one else was within ear shot, so she was obviously talking to her.

"Nothing, just expected more I guess. I mean," she gestured to herself. She was light skin and beautiful, the opposite of Claudia. 

Claudia knew deep down Calum wouldn't go for someone like her. A brown and ordinary college student. "Um, I'm not sure what you're trying to say. If you'll excuse me."

Calum watched Claudia grab the cake and candles and headed to the yard. Luke met her halfway and took the cake off her hands. Calum turned back to his ex, who was rummaging through his fridge as if she was welcomed in his home.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Calum asked her.

“I was invited, duh” She said, rolling her eyes. 

Calum looked over his yard where Sierra and Claudia were clearing a table for the cake while they laughed at something Luke said. 

“She’s cute. Though you could've done better. She's a bit… simple."

"I think you should leave." Calum said.

His ex sauntered over to him, smirking. He recognized that smirk, it was the one she always plastered on her face when she preyed on someone or something. Calum took a step back and she followed by taking one towards him. She laid her hand on his chest, grabbing a fist full of his shirt.

"Oh shit, sorry. I, uh, Ashton asked me to get you. I'll tell him you're...busy." Claudia stammered from the entrance way. Calum noticed her cheeks slightly flushed, as she stepped back to the yard.

"You're right, I should go." His ex let go of his shirt and smoothed it out. "You should go cut your cake."

"Fuck off." Calum slid away from her. Her cackle echoed through his ears when he went to meet his friends. 

Claudia felt like she was in a telenovela, and she was the dumb protagonist that caught the person she loved with the person they needed to be with. She even did the dramatic running away scene. All she needed was Calum to go after her.

"Claudia,"Calum called her.

Chingada madre, she thought. She turned around and looked at him. 

"Look what you saw back there wasn't what—"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. Again, I'm sorry for interrupting." She made her way to Sierra, throwing an arm around her whispering something in her ear earning a laugh. Claudia watched as some of the party goers joined them and sang to Calum. 

Calum solemnly walked over to friends. The rest of the band joined him and took pictures with him. They did some Charlie's Angels poses.

"Your turn Claudia." Ashton nudged her.

"Oh, no I'm fine. I'm not a picture person." She began.

"We took like a million selfies in the bathroom when I got here. What do you mean you hate pictures?" Sierra asked. 

"Here's Duke so it can be like a family picture." Ashton said. 

Calum caught the teasing tone. He quickly glared at him when he grabbed Duke. 

Claudia made her way over and near him. Duke squirmed in Calum's arms wanting to go with Claudia. She grabbed him and on instinct he laid his head on his chest. She felt Calum's arm wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him. The picture was taken and Claudia quickly pulled away from Calum's grip. She went over to the bar and drank, downing  shot after shot after shot. She closed her eyes, letting the alcohol do its thing. 

A plate of cake landed in front of her. She looked up and met Ashton's hazel eyes. She poured herself another shot in disappointment that it wasn't Calum.

"You shouldn't let her rile you up. She does that all the time to piss Cal off." Ashton explained, stealing her shot.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She said, poking at the slice. She spent all morning baking the cake. It was red velvet with vanilla cream cheese buttercream. She got the "H" in Happy Birthday that she promptly smeared.

"Please, one moment both of you are oozing sexual tension and the next you can't even look at each other. His ex was something else quite honestly. In the time that they were together I never saw them act the way you both do. He's happy around you." Ashton patted her hand and went over to the boys. 

***

An hour so passed, and the party died down. It was just their little group now. Even Roy had left with a girl he had met. After helping pick up most of the Solo cups and bottles, Claudia wandered back to Calum's room to get her bag. She dumped her bag on his bed looking for her phone. Then she remembered Calum had it when he hijacked her call. 

The door opened making her jump. It was Duke and Calum. Duke trotted over to her wanting cuddles from her.

"Hey," they said simultaneously.

"Do you have my phone?" Claudia asked him. 

"Yeah, here." He dug in his pocket and pulled it out. 

"Thanks, I need to get a ride home." She said, checking the prices between Uber and Lyft. 

"Stay here tonight. It's late. I don't want you in a car with some stranger. I've read one too many articles about rideshare apps being the new way human traffickers kidnap young women." Calum said.

"Fine." She said, closing the app. He had a point, not to mention she had one too many drinks. 

"Okay, yeah. I'll drop you off in the morning."

"It's morning right now." She showed him her screen. It said 1:28 am.

"The reasonable morning, smart ass." He said, earning a giggle from her.

They made their way down when they bumped into Michael.

"We should get going. I'll come by and get the speakers tomorrow." Michael told them. 

"Just text me." Calum said. He lifted the arm he had around Claudia and fist bumped him. 

"We should get going too. Ash, you need a ride?" Luke asked him. 

Ashton glanced at the Calum and Claudia. "Yeah."

They made plans to meet up for a late lunch before bidding each other goodbye. Calum watched Claudia make her way to the kitchen and pull out a pizza box from the oven. She grabbed a paper towel and placed a few slices on it, sitting on the counter to munch on it.

“What?” She giggled when Calum approached her. Without thinking he grabbed her wrist and bit the slice she was eating. Claudia let out a dramatic gasp. “There’s plenty more in the box, why did you eat mine?” 

“Because I’m the birthday boy, and I can eat what I want,” he said. 

Claudia opened her legs, letting Calum take a step closer to her. 

“Well, actually it’s almost two in the morning. Your birthday ended a few hours ago.” She said matter of factly and took a generous bite of her pizza all the while turning  back to point at the time on the microwave. 

“Pretty girl, no one likes a smart ass.” Calum said, leaning closer to her. He caged her in with his body, not that she minded. 

Claudia took in his scent, bright and woody cologne mixed with  tequila. It was a comforting scent, as if she was at home. She looked up at Calum, and he glanced down to her lips. 

He met her eyes and pushed back some of her curls before cupping her face with one hand and using the other to balance himself on the counter. His hand landed on the napkin piled with pizza and slid. 

Claudia let out a snort. “Smooth, Cal.”

“I get a do-over. It’s my birthday.” Calum said candidly. 

“It’s not your—”

He cupped her face with both hands, which was what he needed to do in the first place, and kissed her. The kiss was slow, a test of  water, but urgency took over soon. Claudia’s hand twisted against his shirt. Their tongues battled for dominance, and Calum won. They kissed for what seemed ages until they needed to breathe.

They both pulled away, winded. 

“No one likes a smart ass, pretty girl.” Calum panted. 

Claudia rolled her eyes. Then she threw her arms around Calum, pulling him back to her and kissed him. Calum pushed himself against her legs to give him better access. His hands grabbed her ass and grinded her against his crotch. Claudia threw her neck back, revelling in how good Calum felt against her. She mentally gave herself a pat on the back for wearing full lace panties. 

Calum nipped and sucked down her neck to find her sweet spot. He barely caught her strangled moan when he nipped the spot between her jaw and neck. He repeated his actions, earning a louder moan from her. He smiled against her neck, wondering how she would sound when he makes her cum time after time.

“Bedroom,” Claudia moaned. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah."

The walk to Calum's room took seconds, but it was going to take longer to go inside of it. Claudia was pinned up against the wall next to his room. While they kissed, she impatiently unbuttoned the shirt revealing her black lace number. 

Calum was rendered speechless. He let go of her and kissed all the small tattoos sprinkled all over her tummy. He kneeled down when he got to the ones near her hips and stomach. He lowered the waistband of her panties and kissed the small 'wildflower' tattoo on her hip bone. 

"These look nice on you, pretty girl." Calum said, toying with the waistband of her panties. "But I think they'll look better on the floor."

"Guess, we won't know unless we see it." Claudia teased. 

With that Calum gripped the sides and tore her panties off . 

"No mames! Those were my SavageFenty chonis!" Claudia exclaimed. She had joined the Xtra VIP exclusively for those panties. 

"I'll get you a new pair." Calum shrugged as he gently pushed Claudia against the wall and tugged off her boots. He lifted one of her legs, placing it on his shoulder. Meeting Claudia's gaze, he licked his lips and kissed around her thighs. He adjusted her legs for better access to her. 

With one lick Claudia was ruined. She nearly toppled to the ground. Luckily the grip she had on Calum's curls helped her stay up. Her grip only tightened as Calum squeezed her ass as he continued to have her. He bent his arm to rub her clit. At first it felt strange to have fingers that weren't hers rubbing her clit, but she loved how Calum's felt. 

"Fuck! Calum!" She moaned. 

"Love your taste, pretty girl." He stated. 

Claudia felt a familiar tug in her stomach. Before she could process what was happening, she yelled out Calum's name pleasure. He continued to rub her clit until her high wore down. He gently dropped her leg and held on to her hips keeping her balance. 

Claudia had closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing. The last time she panted like this was when she had to run across Cal State Long Beach because she mixed up her Tuesday/Thursday classes with her Monday/Wednesday a few days ago.

***

"I'm sorry. I swear I wanted this. I just— I get it if you hate me and never wanna see me again. I'm gonna go." Claudia said. She wrapped the bed sheet around her chest and looked for her clothes.

Everything was going great. He had gone down on her again, and she gladly returned the favor. They made out some more. Then Calum reached for a condom. That was when shit hit the fan. Claudia pushed him away and called him by her ex's name.

"Claudia," Calum called her as she walked away. He quickly put on his boxers and went after her. He found her outside hugging her knees, crying. "Hey, what happened back there?"

Claudia wasn't with him. She was in the backseat of Paco's Honda Civic. She had driven down for Labor Day weekend because her Friday class was canceled, so she decided to go visit her family. She texted Paco if he wanted to go to Las Cuatro Milpas after work. After eating they went to Por Vida for an horchata latte. Claudia found a chafita version of Por Vida in Long Beach, but their horchata lattes were abysmal. 

They drove back to his place. His parents were in Mexico and his little sister was at her friend's house. They had house to themselves. Much for Claudia's dismay. 

The hangout started normal. They were in the living room watching some Fast and Furious marathon when Paco started to get handsy. Like Danny when he took Sandy to the drive-in theater. Claudia began to feel uncomfortable. 

"Paco, stop." She shrugged him off for the nth time within the hour she was there.

"Baby, you know you like it." He began to bite her neck and grope her breasts. 

"Paco, I said stop." She said pushing him off her.

He glared at her as he let her go. "I'm getting sick and tired of you acting like a fucking prude, Claudia. We've been together for three years. I should get something out of it."

"I'm starting to feel uncomfortable. Can you please take me home?" 

"No." 

"You're unbelievable." 

"I'm just asking you for one thing."

"No, you're not. Sex is more than one thing. It's a lot deeper than that."

"You're full shit, Claudia, and I'm done."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you can suck my dick one day, but the next you won't let me touch you. We're done, get out of my house."

"Paco, you can't do that to us. Was all the shit you went through with Danny, not worth us." Tears streamed down her cheeks as she spoke.

"You're not worth anything. The next fool that has to deal with your prude ass is just going to leave. I was doing you a favor for when we broke up eventually. No one wants a fucking a virgin." 

Calum placed a hand on her knee, startling Claudia. She blinked up at him, tears still free falling. He reached over and wiped away her tears. She pushed him away and began picking her up her clothes. 

“Did I do something wrong? If I did, I’m sorry.” Calum said.

"You're good, it's all me." She dismissed him. She turned back and saw the look on his face. His brows were furrowed and he was in deep thought. He was beating himself up. Claudia dropped her shoulders in defeat. "I’ve never had sex. Which was the real reason why my ex broke up with me, not the distance or whatever excuse he used to make me look bad. He said that no one wanted a virgin and that I'm not—"

Calum wrapped her up his arms. She tensed, but then relaxed. Claudia held on to him as she cried. She never told anyone the real story. She felt a bit embarrassed, but overall relieved that huge weight on her shoulders was gone.

"He's a selfish idiot." Calum said. He pushed back some of her hair and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry if I pressured you into something you aren't ready for."

"You didn't do anything wrong, except rip my SavageFenty panties." She began. "I felt safe with you. You made it seem like you care about me."

"I do, you know, care about you. I've had feelings for you for a while, to be honest." 

"I know, and I also like you too. You're the best." 

Claudia pulled his head down and kissed him. It was a reassuring kiss. It let them know what they mean for each other. They'll take things slow, and see where things go from here. 

can you write something fluffy for b&w this time? Please don't break our heart again?

Aww I’m sorry for breaking your heart guys. Here’s something to fix it.

“Mom?”Myka glanced up from her spot on the sofa, where she was reading what looked like a heavy manuscript of some sort. A smile blossomed across her lips, kind and affectionate, and she gestured for her nine year old son to join her by patting the cushion next to her. The sound of his bare feet padding against the hard wooden floor stopped the moment he stepped on the thick but soft rug spread underneath the coffee table and all around it and he eagerly jumped on the couch next to his mother.“Mom, I have a question,” He said, his face giving away that it was an important and serious one.He had a strange gleam in his dark grey eyes, one that was making the freckles on his nose and cheeks look a little brighter than they usually were. His skin was pale but with a healthy glow that somehow contrasted with the mess of short dark curls bouncing all around the top of his head, brushing his forehead whenever he moved.He looked at her expectantly and Myka barely arched a brow to invite him to speak.“How did you meet mum?” He asked and he sounded a little unsure, hesitancy echoing in the way he pronounced the British surname. He would always make a point to add a very Londonian accent whenever he would say it but today, it sounded very American, almost foreign.Myka tilted her head to the side and absentmindedly closed her book, instinctively knowing this conversation would require her full attention. Settling herself a little more comfortably in the angle of the couch, she turned to face her son and met his expectant eyes.“That is a rather out of the blue question, Chris. What brings this one?” She inquired, not missing the way his eyes twitched, still betraying the eye roll he managed to contain.He was a very articulate and clever boy and as such, he had never liked when someone would answer a question with another question. A fact that had already led to countless fight between him and his British mother, who was well versed in the philosophical art of the sophism, during his young life.“I was watching Mary Poppins, with aunty Claudia and uncle Pete, yesterday,” He started and then paused, narrowing his eyes at her to see if she was going to laugh at the movie choice. Since she didn’t smile, he nodded approvingly and took in a deep breath before starting again. “Uncle Pete started to laugh when they all go see that silly uncle who drinks tea while flying near the ceiling and he said … He said it reminded him of how you and him first met mum.”For a minute, Myka only starred in the eyes of her son, grey like a winter sky but full of life and wonder. He was obviously waiting for an answer but Myka was thinking back of that day, all those years ago, in London, when Helena had made her fly for the very first time. Back then, they had been enemies and Helena had been the target but now, many many years later …“Mom?” The young boy called, his brows furrowed above his eyes, impatience showing across his face.“Sorry, Chris. I went back to that day, the one Pete spoke about. It was a funny one, you know, the kind of funny that always happens when your mum is involved. Like the time she tried to modify the popcorn machine to increase its efficiency and you and I came back home to find the kitchen almost entirely flooded with salted caramel popcorn,” Myka said and she laughed lightly at the memory, making her son laugh with her.“It was good popcorn, but she had to buy a new machine because the one she was trying to improve was broken and she couldn’t fix it herself,” The young boy added with a smile but then he became serious again and Myka could tell he wanted an answer.“Alright Chris, I am going to tell you the story of how I met your mother,” Myka started and she did.She told him all about how his British mother had been some kind of adversary spy, working for the British government while Pete and her were in London to retrieve an important object, on behalf of the American government.“You know your mum is an inventor of sort, right?” He nodded and Myka continued “The object we were supposed to retrieve was in a protected house, with all sort of scientific traps and she happened to know the house very well. She turned on a switch that activated an electromagnetic field in the ceilings and since we didn’t wear the protective vest, like she was, Pete and I went up and we got stuck against the ceilings. She left, with the object we should have been retrieving. That was the very first time I met your mother.”Myka studied her son’s features as he twisted his mouth in what was his most thoughtful gesture. He would always move or twist his lips or bite the inside of his cheeks while thinking and it was as strange as it was cute.“Is that when you fell in love with her?” He finally asked and Myka arched a surprised brow at this question. She wasn’t expecting something so serious from her nine years old son but then again, he was clever and bright and since he never really asked anything about his mothers before, maybe it was time he started.“I think it was a start, yes,” Myka replied after a short silence, biting her bottom lips as she thought about her life and how it only went downside the hill after her meeting with the infamous H.G Wells. Yet, she had absolutely no regret. None.“When did you realize, then?” He insisted, shuffling closer to lay down and put his head on her lap.She instantly reached a hand to caress his scalp, moving her fingertips across the glossy, silky curls that somehow reminded her of Helena’s hair. It was the same texture, the same gloss and color and it was also soft and smooth under her fingers.“I don’t exactly know when I realized I was in love with her, I never had a bright and clear revelation moment. I fell in love with her throughout the years, by spending time with her and learning to know her … It wasn’t always easy, you know. She’s something else, your mum.” Myka chuckled and the young boy did the same, apparently well aware of how complicated his British mother could be sometimes.“I think … I think that if I should choose one moment, the closest to the revelation, it would be the day she decided to come back to work with me. We hadn’t talked for almost two years, because we were somehow at odd, and then she came back. I think ... I think it’s the day she realized that maybe, maybe she loved me too,” Myka said and her tone was a little dreamy, a little far away as she thought back of that singular spring morning where she had found Helena on the B&B doorstep, looking very lost and very determined at once.It had been a very strange and confusing day, leading to an even more chaotic few months but eventually, they made it work and surprisingly enough, it lasted. It was still lasting.“Uncle Pete said that I am a very lucky boy, to have you and mum,” He whispered, a content smile having made its way across his lips.“Really? What do you think?” Myka asked, glancing down to face her son’s grey eyes and smiling at how happy he looked.“I think that for once, uncle Pete’s right.”Myka openly laughed at the implication, hearing Helena in her son’s voice and sass. He was always bantering with Pete but she knew her son was worshiping the man he so effortlessly called uncle and Pete was crazy about the young boy as well. They were always doing stuff together whenever Myka and Helena had to go on a mission together. Sometimes, Steve, Claudia or Abigail, or a combination of the above, would join in their activities but mostly, it was only Pete and Chris.“He’s taking me to a baseball game soon, he said he would talk to you about it,” The young boy said and then, he announced that he was going to bed.“Are you really going to sleep or are you going to read, young man? Because you are already forty-five minutes behind schedule, or did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Myka arched an unimpressed brow at him and he only shrugged.He was about to answer when a very British voice chimed in, startling them both.“Christopher Charles Bering-Wells!”Helena was now standing behind the couch, hands on her hips as she glared down at her son, still sprawled on the couch with his head on his mother laps. Myka twisted her neck to look back and she smiled at her wife.“Hi honey, I didn’t hear you come home,” She said and she saw Helena’s stern features soften, until a smile broke on her face, gentle and full of love.“Hello my darlings. I just came back, because I went to see Claudia and it took a little longer than expected but none of that explains the fact our son is still up at almost one hour past his bedtime?” Helena asked as she made her way around the couch, coming to sit next to Myka and moving their son’s legs onto her lap.“We had a long and interesting discussion, it took longer than I thought it would but you’re right. Come on Chris, off to bed with you.” Myka gently ordered and the young boy groaned a little. One glare from Helena sent him off upstairs to brush his teeth and Myka took the opportunity to kiss Helena.It was a soft but sound kiss, the kind that meant welcome home, I love you and I missed you all in once. When they pulled away, Helena was panting a little and her eyes were gleaming with something passionate, a familiar kind of anger that made Myka laugh a little.“Patience honey, we need to put the little devil to sleep first,” She said but she still leaned forward to kiss her wife again, a little more playfully this time.“Tease,” Helena mumbled in the kiss but she answered nonetheless, throwing her arms around Myka’s waist to pull her closer. They lost themselves in the kiss for a little while but then, their son’s voice echoed around the house.“Mooooom, muuuum, I’m ready!”They broke the kiss and laughed heartily.“Come on, honey. Let’s go put our son to bed and then, I am going to show you exactly how much I missed you,” Myka whispered to Helena’s ear before moving up from the couch to walk towards the staircase.She took in the sight of a slightly breathless but very aroused Helena and smirked.After one last promising wink, she then disappeared upstairs.