Through the door and it’s Aaron who makes the first move.
They never were that good with words anyway, but this; this they were good at. There’s nothing tender about the kiss, it’s plain desire. Or something more; a deep almost primeval need as their mouths lock.
If he’s shocked, he hardly has time to register it, as the moment takes over emptying his mind of everything except the sensation of taste from his lips, and the heat in his belly. And then there’s panic too, because this is something else that he’s rusty at, and he hopes like his business skills it’s instinctive.
He doesn’t have time to worry.
Aaron’s already dragging his work sweater that he wears on the farm up by the hem, then over his head, and unzipping his hoodie. His hands are on his waist, they’re skin against skin.
And he’s swallowing back breaths trying to steady his heart when Aaron says, ‘Upstairs!’
So he follows him, like he’s following him to heaven.
After, there they are, bare shoulders pressed against each other side by side on the bed, and Aaron’s unlocking his phone, showing him.
‘These are my kids.’
‘And your husband?’
‘It was great for, well, quite a while I suppose, but it didn’t work out in the end.’
‘I’m sorry, what went wrong?’
‘He wasn’t you, was he?’
He doesn’t know what to say, instead scoots off the bed, offers tea, or something stronger as he reaches for his jeans.
Aaron shakes his head.
‘I need to go now, really.’
Robert swallows, watches him dress, practices the words in his head before he says them:-
‘Will you come back?’
‘No,’ Aaron says, ‘It’s your turn now to come to me. I made the first move. And you know where I am, where I’ve always been. I’ll be waiting.’
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
It is slightly a relief to see a frown on Blaine's face mirroring his own.
"What should we do?" He whispers and Blaine sighs.
"It's a Solomon's Judgment type of situation here," he replies in the same tone. "Neither decision will make us happy."
"I know. Forget Sophie's choice this is the real deal."
"Oh my god," Mercedes groans, pushing them and scanning both teasets. "Just put both on your anniversary "We didnt get a wedding list" list, and let's move on."
She walks away with the scanner held in her hand like a pregnant Valkyrie going into battle, muttering under her breath about drama queens and how taxing they can be.
Kurt looks at her go and looks back at Blaine.
"Are we being melodramatic?"
"Of course not dear."
Kurt leans in for a kiss. "I knew marrying you was the right decision."
Blaine kisses back. "Easiest judgment call of my life."
Isadora Smackle knows, without question, that’s entirely logical for friend groups to drift apart as they grow older and diversify their interests and start to travel on differing life paths. School work gets harder and more time consuming, as do hobbies. A person might have to select a very specific school to get properly educated in their chosen field of study, and that school might be a long distance from their other friends.
And each new journey, that takes up what is a finite amount of time, brings new acquaintances and friends. Who also take up time, but they share more of your interests and make up a greater part of what your life is, so it only makes sense that more of your finite time goes to fostering those relationships and not necessarily trying to maintain the ones that you’ve been growing out of.
Isadora knows all of that.
But knowing it doesn’t keep her heart from panging in a completely irrational fashion when the group chat of the ‘clique six’, as Zay had dubbed them in junior year, the one that they had established to keep in touch as they all went their separate ways after graduation, starts to go quiet.
Change is a very normal and natural part of the world, and all of the changes that they appear to be going through are perhaps unexpected, but not abnormal.
And yet Isadora finds herself wishing that their particular friend group could be the exception and not change at all.
Time hurries on
And the leaves that are green, turn to brown
And they whither with the wind, and they crumble in your hand
~Leaves That Are Green, Simon & Garfunkel
Send me a ‘🎶’ and a character or pairing or show and I’ll attempt a brief ficlet based on the next song that comes up on shuffle.
@kacchako-week (This was the first idea I had for this prompt. Let’s see if I can pound out the second one afterwards...)
Something Only They See
Years have passed, goals have been gained, and as similar as he was to the boy of his high school years, he was also completely different. He’s learned to compromise (somewhat), he’s learned to not be afraid to lose (even less than somewhat), and he’s learned how to carve out a huge piece of his life to fit someone else in it (a lot).
Most of all, Katsuki has learned to care a little bit more- to look at someone else’s face and see exactly what lay underneath the veneer presented. Though, honestly, he’d only cultivated that skill for one other person and she was walking through their shared apartment door two hours late without the usual spring in her step. Even her permanently flushed cheeks seemed paler. She called out an absent-minded ‘I’m home’ as she toed out of her sneakers.
Katsuki set down the phone he hadn’t been obsessively glaring at for the past two hours and shoved his hand in his pockets.
“You didn’t float your phone into fucking oblivion again, did you?” he asked shortly, trying to sound more angry than worried.
Ochako glanced up sharply, eyes blinking wide, guileless, and bewildered. The bewilderment faded the more her big, brown eyes scanned over him- the casual suit, the yellow tie she’d bought him last year, the almost tidy style to his rat’s nest hair. Her already pale face blanched to ashen, pupils dilating to pinpricks as guilt struck her like a blow to the face.
“Oh no,” she gasped, straightening to her fullest height and covering her mouth with her hands. “I totally forgot! I can’t believe I forgot!”
Tears were brimming the edges of her lashes and that’s when he knew. Katsuki had known since their first year in UA that Ochako was bright, bubbly, and annoying cheerful, but she wasn’t a pushover. Her reasons for being a hero were different from his, so vastly different, but no less important. She would throw herself recklessly into harm’s way to attain her goal, just like him. Only being K.O.’d would hold her down. So, Katsuki knew that Uraraka Ochako was not fragile.
He was loosening the tie as he strode across the room, scowling uncomfortably, before he consciously made the decision to. Ochako’s wide-splayed hands waved through the air wildly the closer he got. The smooth pads of her fingers flashed in the light.
“It will only take me a minute, just a quick shower and a change and we can make it!” she assured him urgently. He merely rolled his eyes hard enough to hurt, exhaling loud and rough in relief when he’d completely unbuttoned his vest.
“I’ll order that shitty take-out you like. It’s better than whatever we could’ve gotten at the reservation,” Katsuki retorted firmly. She hesitated, wavering in place as she pictured all the ‘comfort food’ she could order and the money they’d actually save.
“Well...” she mumbled.
With her attention successfully distracted, he reached out and cupped the back of her head. Ochako squeaked in shock, hands flailing absurdly, as he smashed her face to his chest. He wasn’t blushing- he’s not a child, damn it- but he wasn’t exactly comfortable, with his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth twisted into a grimace, and his other hand still jammed deep in his pocket. “Don’t fucking pretend you’re okay. Not with me, Uraraka.”
Her hands froze mid-air, then slowly her fingers curled into loose fists. Just as hesitantly, she dropped her hands to his back to clench so tight he felt the fabric of his shirt and vest pull. Her shoulders jerked- once, twice, until her whole body was suddenly shuddering. In the next breath, she was pressed close, face tucked against his collarbones and her gaping wide mouth trembling and gasping against his chest. Already her sobs were a growing patch of dampness on his way too expensive to be dealing with this shit shirt- but he didn’t push her away. Just tucked his arm securely around her neck and set his chin on her too-floofy hair as he stared at the door behind her.
Ochako wasn’t fragile. He’d swear it up and down if anyone asked that she was a force to be reckoned with, equal to even him. Knowing her as he did now, though, years and years of building them into this, he knew she had her moments of weakness; moments not even her parents got to see, nor her teammates, very rarely even her closest friends. She was other’s support, she was the one that made the day easier on everyone around her. Everyone except him- who held her together when she began cracking.
When Ochako was actually fragile, he was the only one to see.
“I-I know w-we c-can’t always- That s-sometimes there’s-s n-nothing w-we can d-do, b-but it’s awful. It n-never gets b-better!” she wailed, barely muffled by her face mashed to his body. He scowled harder, brows wrinkled and tight over his narrowed eyes. Of course it was a rescue mission gone bad. He’d heard about the wreck, but there weren’t any details in the news yet... “Sorry, s-sorry, I’m s-so sorry, I’ll b-be fine. I’m b-being st-stupid,” she babbled on, breath hitching and face rubbing into his shirt.
Ignoring the fact that she’d probably just rubbed snot into his nice clothes- she was a seriously ugly crier- Katsuki actually growled, “Shut up and just fucking cry.”
Snuffling, Ochako laughed wetly and held on tighter.
...
The early evening had become night. The last of the sunset, not that she’d even seen it during her trudging walk home, wasn’t even on the furthest edge of the horizon and only the light pollution of the city kept the stars from shining brightly. She woke with heavy, crusty eyes and a cottony mouth and a viciously pounding headache. Ochako blinked sluggishly, staring out the window and missing her hometown with an ache that starless nights like this inspired. Not to mention the terrible crying jag she’d unleashed on Kacchan.
She glanced down at Katsuki’s sleeping baby face. His mouth gaped against the pillow and he frowned even in sleep. What a dork. She huffed affectionately and stroked a finger down his slight sideburns, all the way to his jaw where his scruff was just grown enough to scratch against her fingerpad. She quickly pressed her fingers together, whispered ‘release’, and stilled like a statue. His frown twitched, but he didn’t wake, and she breathed out with her hand to her thudding heart, trying not to giggle.
Why date someone like Katsuki? Angry, foul-mouthed, always frowning Bakugou, Katsuki?
There wasn’t a silly, ridiculous, nonsense answer like “under all the layers was a different person”. He was very much the person he presented himself as. He had his.. heh... quirks... and private habits that didn’t always seem to match him at first glance; his neat-freak tendencies, his penchant for forgetting slippers in strange places around the house, and how much he hated to shave (and how often he had to). However, he was by no means easy to live with. He wasn’t easy to share her life with.
But there were moments where he let her cry and didn’t judge her for it. When he’d cancel plans because her welfare was more important. And there were the rarer moments when he showed a sincere, fleeting smile, or said something genuine and kind. When he’d wake up slowly and groggily, leaning on his elbows and frowning without anger in the streetlight from their window. Instead of just rolling back to sleep, he’d take a real look and groaned himself to wakefulness.
“Whadd’re you doin’ up? Go t’sleep,” he slurred, still half asleep and letting his concern show. She smiled, shrugging once and shaking her head.
There were the moments like this, when she’d lean forward and press her lips to his, both of them sinking into it perfectly in sync. When one hand cupped her face and his heart was under her hands, beating steady and slow. When she’d whisper, almost too quiet to hear,
“I love you, Katsuki.”
And that schoolboy flush would burn his cheeks and ears, and his red eyes would get too narrow and his jaw would drop crookedly.
Sometimes he could be fragile under her hands and she was the only one who got to see.
All pretty good reasons to fall in love with a man like Bakugou Katsuki.
They talk about Spain, then procrastinate and leave it too late until everything’s booked up for the bank holiday weekend.
‘It’ll have to be Costa del Emmerdale after all,’ Aaron says, and she smiles down the phone from her office where she works in London, knowing deep down it’s what she wanted all along; to be home.
Everyone spills out at the platform but she takes her time, savoring that warm feeling in the pit of her stomach, then steps out into the hurly-burly of the station.
He would’ve come to fetch her if he’d known, but she wants to surprise him, she’ll take a taxi instead.
It’s the cup that catches her eye - just a bog-standard paper coffee cup with a cream colored lining that reflects the sunlight from the dusty street. An empty cup.
He’s not asking, just sitting on the pavement with his back to the narrow post of a street lamp, his head lowered, holding the empty cup in his hand so the tilt could be accidental while he naps.
She walks past, and then stops and walks back, drops a few coins in. She wants to apologize for not having more change.
‘Thanks, thanks so much, love.’
It’s the timbre of his voice that makes her look.
Fourteen years fly away poof and she’s hit with a wall of grief and love.
He’s standing tucking his shirt in at the back, thumbs outspread, trousers hanging on his hips but tall and...
‘Liv! Oh Liv! Liv!’
He’s holding her, and all she knows is she’s a child again safe in a brother’s arms.
There are people looking.
She’s crying.
‘But why? When? Where have you been? Why are you here? Please, Robert, please! Come home!’
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Kurt cocks one eyebrow at his husband, even through the webcam. “As if you need to ask.”
Blaine chuckles and fondly rolls his eyes at him. The motion tips his head to the side, and the grey hair growing on his temples catch the light. “Fine, two scarves.”
“And a hat, I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
Blaine’s eyes twinkle through the pixels. “I am very careful with my health, darling.”
“I know.”
“And we’re going to be those obnoxious old men who still show the younglins how it’s done.”
