#{ -indulging in my coffee while pondering what exactly this turned into- I think I just K.Oed myself with feels this early weekend. :'D

[kuraikyu]

@digenvez : It's a bold move to make --- Reaching out for his friend. Carefully, nearly gingerly, using his hand to cradle the other's chin, a benign touch that could be brushed off and pulled away from if wanted and demanded. " Hey. " It had been incited by the sadness he had worn all day in his eyes, by that untold little story, singing out in a discordant tone only between the both of them when fingers brush along Suguru's jawline. Aside from the soft call, there was nothing else, just this certainty of I'm here.[ teen satoru and suguru <3 ]

Rings under sunken eyes laminated by dark circles grew with worries unbefitting of his age. A silk ladder unrolled across the ivy wanderlust of each other's limitations. Suguru himself was not weary in hardships of body but shadows of his mind.

The familiarity of the sound rings hollowly in still tapestry of his arduous dreaming. The strongest and egotistical by definition in a tough position, would hold no caution counsel in dealings with his best friend. Yet, here was the other one, engulfed by silence of campus, sitting and staring how spilled ink soaked into notepad pages with glassy eyes and perception deeply absent; compounded guilt and ruin that have fallen beneath notice. Time itself had become irrelevant; tens of seconds could have been hours, hours mere seconds. Why Sorcerers ignore warnings at their peril? Can't they see that our life would be fleeting as single breath because of ... [ ... ]

That one stupid word regarding primates of this society haunted his mind like Baskerville hound. Unfortunately, it was not only sadness that day. Did he really think Satoru would not notice, his stands apart from the rest, how every now and then his eyes drift into direction of the unknown and without aim or focus, nervous finger drumming against the table surface, reading more than thirty minutes one sentence of a short poetry book? And those periodically violent shifts in his cursed energy whenever he was alone? Wordplay without surrounding consonants. There are two syllables in water and three in inferno, he thirsted for the first while fusing himself with the latter but he would not weep for the need of it. Such a theatre of absurdity it made his stomach twist and turn. Near to choking on self-produced venom, day by day his inner darkness was growing teeth, searching for a target to sink them in without truly understanding or acknowledging such desire. Whatever it was it couldn’t feel pain, yearning, or regret just this eclipse of emptiness he kept falling in endlessly. There was something feral going on within scape of Suguru's energy that day, something that threatened to unleash itself from chains and rip to shreds whenever light and solace would not reach him. The night parade in his core kept perpetually thinking about carnage and craved bloodshed of the unworthy scums. The shower should be soothing and not the other way around. He blamed too much exorcism, too much everything ...

Until his focus was guided away by initiatively secured touch. Hand that roams far afield along the contour line of his jaw sending shivers down his spine. And he follows, cranium titles. There was a mild sense of astonishment expanding in the gloom of Curse eater's eyes where somewhere in their depths, with a flick of sericeous tail a shimmer of hope swims like an ivory beta in the black pool of Yin. Another half is never too far, even to the ends of the earth to complete like an equation and like a missing piece puzzle. They ride though life conjoined - expanding and contracting instinctively, filling each other's spaces liquidly despite spiny conflict. Two halves of insanity - a beginning of terrible brilliance for twisted mirror can not exist by itself.

Bright red quickly darkening, the spider lily coops petals of trickling vices and prepares to slumber, applause echo of invisible collective ceased, every fleeting beat of touch has died safe and warm within attempts of rescue. But even if temporarily so -- was it not a moment worth to mellow in that tender light, calm and reassuring, forget about what gaudy day denies, reject the ends of being, and lean against ideal grace?

Satoru? Early is the hour in which he returns, by the time Geto was long after the shower. Did he say something; something before? He could swear Gojo's lips moved just now but he could not hear anything until his sense of sound returned to the faculty of perceiving.

White portion of the eyes saturated with bloodshot. Awareness perked enough through executing action to reflexively trap firmly his friend's wayfaring wrist within his hand. It was almost harsh; nearly savage, only to manifest another touch the next second with a lighter contact where each could try and pry free if wanted. Persistent fool, he would still try, /attempt/, knowing he should not be around when the binge eater was near at peak of his worst.

A worm gnawing at his subconsciousness manifested once again. Oh, look who shows up. Where were you for so long, hm? ........ Where were you when I needed you the most?

Ah, the Honored One finally minding to pay a visit to his old friend after done safeguarding his new priority; monkeys?! He wanted to coil arms around his stomach, curl, and cackle in hysterical self-derision and romanticization of disgust. But there's a hiss that snakes bitterly past his lips instead. Oh, and that moment and he could have snapped, could have pulled him into ravaging calamity and devoured him, setting the floor ablaze with the impact of destructive turbulence where even divinity would shake itself because he knew Satoru could withstand that, the thought was there, at length of his arm -- rooting deep. One tug was enough to pull them together in a tornado of seeking intensities. But his best friend's eyes ... like cloudless climes and starry skies ... kept looking at him with a sign of worry and reminded him of lost control. Once ravenette fulfilled his sight with prolonged eye contact he seemed relatively calmer, no, much calmer, because, and undeniably foremost he always had this emollient effect on him. Upon his word, faithful puffs of warm breath fell on the brevis of the inner side of Gojo's palm as Geto held him in place until full rotation to face him. Lips on the doorstep to quiver from sucking in a thicker consignment of air till he masters and swallows indescribable emotions, until they vanish and he stands once again with his expression tired just this time indulging in something grander and less destructive. Ocean eyes take him back to the floral shores sweet as May. Like at the edge of the receding glacier, he nodded sagely as a sign of perception and even attempted to charm fragment of a ghosting smile, " I'm sorry, my reflexes must have overreacted due to pounding headache ... did you say something? I probably misheard ... ''

" Must be the weather ... "

Thank you. For being here ... and reminding me (*how) to be better.

[nonexistent-introvert]

Lost

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count : 2.1k

content: Joel giving you life advice and assurance, him being your comfort.

A/N: It's been a hella long time, this may be a little too personal of a story but I have had a rough few months. And this was a little fic i wrote to comfort myself with my fav comfort character. Finally decided to post this in hopes that it may help someone ahaha.

 “Have you ever wondered what it would be like if Ellie grew up pre-outbreak?” Joel’s eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Why the sudden deep question?” He questioned you back as he sipped on the steaming hot cup of coffee in his hand. You shrug, “Just a thought.”  

   Joel and you sat on his front porch, just watching the sunset over the horizon, a beautiful backdrop for Jackson’s village. He ponders your question for a while before sitting up in his chair, “You mean if she didn’t grow up during the outbreak, but before, when we didn’t have to worry about the infected?” He clarifies. You nod as you stare off into the distance, watching the various villagers go about their days. “I mean, she’s 18 this year. If life was normal she would probably be going off for college this year. Not- not going out for patrols and helping out around town, or even fighting for her life every time she’s out of Jackson.” You continue adding on. Joel hums, “College huh?” He lets out a small laugh at the thought of an education system. It had been too long since he had last heard about any form of education. “Mmm, she would probably be going off for college, like every other teenager back then, where she would figure out her life from there.” Joel hums as he imagines what it would be like in an alternate universe. 

   “Do you think she would be happier than now? If let’s say she had the chance to go to a college instead of fighting for her life.” You ask again. Joel places his mug down on the table separating the both of you. “Probably, I mean I never went to college properly but it would probably be better than fighting for your life.” You look at him as he answers, “You really think so?” Joel’s eyes widened and he let out another laugh, “Come on, who in their right mind would prefer our life now to back then?” You simply smile and laugh a little. “We only think that way because we had them to compare to, Ellie only knows life throughout the outbreak, she’s been fighting since she’s young, learning how to defend herself and survive. Even now at 18, she’s been doing the same things as she did since young, it’s a form of normalcy for her.” Joel turns his body to face you, “What’s your point exactly?” He asked, not quite understanding where you’re coming from. You meet his eye for a few moments, trying to search for the right words to voice your opinions. 

    “Becoming 18 was the scariest part of my life, and arguably the hardest part of my life too. That’s saying a lot since I literally survived 20 years in a stupid zombie apocalypse.” You laugh, and Joel gives you a judgemental look, he can list down a list of worse periods of his life compared to turning 18. 

   “Becoming 18 brought about so many changes in my life, I had to prepare myself for college, choosing a major, being in a completely new environment, new friends. I just felt so pressured and overwhelmed with everything. However for Ellie, ironically enough, she’s in a more stable environment than she has ever been. Jackson is the safest it gets around here, she can live a semblance of a normal life here, hanging out with friends, indulging in her hobbies, and doing typical teenage things. For someone go fought for their survival everyday, Jackson is practically a safe haven. Personally, I know 18-year-old me would have done anything for some semblance of stability back then.” 

  Joel just stares at you for a moment, he clears his throat upon noticing that you seemed to be getting a little emotional just thinking about it. “My life changed when I was 20, 18 wasn’t bad for me, I knew I wanted to be a musician so a music degree was the way to go but I had to drop out when Sarah’s mum got pregnant with her. I worked tirelessly to afford a wedding and eventually, our life together with Sarah, balancing college on top of multiple jobs would have killed me.” He shares with you, looking away as he realizes you’re trying to subtly wipe the tears that are forming in your eyes. “One moment I was a college student and then suddenly I was thrown out to the adulting world without any prior warnings, forced to adapt and overcome. Plus the pressure from both sides of the family regarding the pregnancy, fuck I thought I was gonna lose my mind.” Joel continues. “As much as I say that, it taught me to appreciate the small things in life, sure i have my regrets but seeing Sarah.. having Sarah turned out to be the biggest blessing of my life. No matter how much life hated me, it was easier every day when I see Sarah, she was the light in my world. It made all the shittty things I went through worth it.” He says confidently, you can see the pride shining in his eyes at the thought of Sarah. Your hands reach over to give his hand a little encouraging squeeze. Joel used to have trouble even talking about Sarah, but he had came a long way since then.  

  “I’m sorry I went on about my grandfather's story, it’s your turn.”Joel chuckles, he picks up his mug to take another sip of his coffee, you had always been a cheerful person, he was curious about how your life was at 18 for you to tear up just thinking about it. 

  You sat there silently for a few moments, then you inhaled deeply, trying to muster the courage to tell Joel. You never had the opportunity to share what you went through prior to this conversation with Joel. 

   “I didn’t have life as tough as you but I don’t know, I just felt so lost you know? I didn’t know what to do with my life.” You started, your body tensing up just at the memory of it. “I was so afraid of suffering in my chosen major if I ended up not liking it. I didn’t want to waste my time studying something I didn’t like. Then I spiraled and thought that if I chose the wrong major I would be condemned to a job or industry I hated. I couldn’t bear spending my time on a job that I didn’t like. I just felt so doomed and trapped at that point in time, I was so lost, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.” Your words started to leave your lips at a faster pace, just the memory of it evoked some overwhelming emotions inside you. Joel moved the table separating the both of you immediately and shifted his seat right next to you. He revealed his bare palm to you, a soft invitation for comfort. You placed your hand in his immediately, letting out a sigh of relief when he held your hand tightly, giving your hand a few squeezes to ground you. “It’s okay, you’re fine now.” He murmurs softly. Silence fell over the two of you as you took a few steadying breaths and he patiently waited. 

  “You didn’t talk to anyone about this? About how lost you were?” Joel questioned, a worried look on his face. His hand still holding yours. You shook your head, “Not in detail anyway, I tried asking in general. My dad caught hints of how I felt, he just kept telling me about how it's normal to feel lost and that I’ll figure it out along the way, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety.” Joel’s eyebrows furrowed, this made him wonder if Ellie or Sarah had ever felt anxious before and he had just never caught on. “I started spacing out a lot, I couldn’t remain in silence because if there wasn’t something to occupy my mind, it would go back to overthinking about the future. I knew I wasn’t in a good place, but I felt my feelings were invalid since there were people out there in worse situations than me. So, I- I just smiled a little bigger and laughed a little louder, trying to mask how I felt inside.” Joel lets out a breath at that, “No one should ever feel like their feelings are valid. Just because you’re in a better situation doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to feel that way. The feelings and pain you went through still affected you and hurt you, it was real.” Joel says firmly, a determined look in his eye. He firmly believed in that statement. You gave him a soft smile, “I just wished young me knew that, but knowing my stubborn ass, I would have continued to spiral anyways.” 

  Joel stretches his legs, letting out a grunt as he does so. “Have you ever thought of taking a gap year? To figure out what you wanted?” He suggested. “Thought about it, my dad didn’t like the idea of me wasting a year, he said the longer I waited the value of my grades loses and it would be even harder for me to get into college.” You answered. Joel let out a scoff, “It’s not a waste, it's better than you impulsively choosing a major and then regretting it for the rest of your life or even possibly destroying your mental health more trying to do well in something you found no joy in.” Yion shrugs, “At that point of time, I didn’t even want to commit myself to further studies, knowing me, I would have just settled for any job as long as it was stable even if it wasn’t the best choice financially for the long term.” 

   “There is no such thing as a stable job, every job has its own pros and cons. What matters is the fulfillment you get from it.” Joel answers. He would know, everyone around him didn’t like the idea of him becoming a musician because it took a stroke of luck to even do decently well and stand out in the industry but Joel knew for a fact that he wouldn’t enjoy anything else as much as he would being able to perform for people. It was the whole reason why he went ahead with his music degree. He would never know if it would turn out to be a choice he regretted since he had to drop out to support his family but until now, having the opportunity to study music was one of the best decisions he made. You sigh, “Well I felt like I had tunnel vision. I just saw myself on a path that led nowhere. Maybe I was in a bad place altogether too.” Joel hums in understanding. “You made it this far, even pulled through a whole apocalypse. Can’t say many people did the same. For someone who claimed they’re weak, you did make it 20 years in surviving an apocalypse. You laugh at the irony of it all, “Hm, turns out I did better when there weren’t many options. The only way to survive was to live, I didn’t have any other path to walk. The world narrowed it down for me.” Joel smirked, “Oh, how kind of them.” He replied sarcastically. 

   “So, do you think Ellie would be happier going off for college?” You asked again, linking back to the original question. Joel smiles, his eyes twinkling as the tangerine sunlight highlighted his features. “She would be happy as long as she finds the most suitable pacing for herself to move through life,” Joel concludes. “Life only seems fast-paced because everyone else moves at a fast pace but that doesn’t mean everyone can keep up. Determine your own pace and progress through at your own pace. It’s the only way you won’t feel stressed and pressured which tend to equate to you being content.” 

   Joel finishes his coffee. “Feeling lost is normal, it usually happens when you think you’re left behind and everyone is moving tenfolds faster than you. However, life was never meant to be some race to be the fastest, you could always set your own pace and continue moving forward. Being slower is better than pushing yourself past your limits and ruining yourself in the process.” 

   You look at him with admiration. Then you cleared your throat and laughed a little to lighten the tension. “Joel, that was really wise.” He looks over to you as he clears his throat too, trying to hide a small hint of a blush. “Heh, must be the old age catching up.” He murmurs. 

   You stare onward, looking at Joel and then to the various villagers of all ages living their lives in Jackson. You smile subconsciously. 

   Everything does work out in the end. 

[duskamethyst]

mistakes.

a/n: totally for self indulgence... don’t know how is this gonna do though since i’m not sure if a lot of people has caught up with the manga but i’m pretty sure the fandom has seen him at least once and instantly thirst for him. so, idk what colour his eyes are (i can see blue but fanwiki says green so i stuck with that and in between). this comes with a package of me pointing out how big and buff he is and idc if you’ll get annoyed over it.

word count: 6.1k

genre: AU, nsfw, smut, angst if you squint

warnings: DARK – NONCON, coercion, corruption kink, daddy kink, size kink, choking, mind break, breeding, face fucking, slight dacryphilia, spitting, age gap, degradation, virgin reader, dilf toji manhandling reader

pairing: toji x f!reader

languages available: vietnamese.

summary: you want to surprise your bestie, megumi upon his arrival home from college but things take a terrible turn.

one.

heavy rain starts pouring as soon as you’ve reached the front doorstep of the fushiguro’s household. it was a dumb idea to not bring an umbrella with you despite the sky already starting to get dark when you left home earlier, but you were willing to push your luck and started sprinting once you felt prickles of droplets landing on your skin. with a stroke of luck, you managed to escape the heavy downpour from soaking your clothes.

drawing a deep and relieved sigh, you take a moment to regain control over your breathing before knocking the big front door. aware of the aftermath of the run, you fix your hair with your hands as you wait for megumi to come and greet you. 

college made you and the male to part ways until phones were the only thing that kept you both up to date with each other’s lives. ironically enough, that’s the thing you forgot to bring when you left home in a rush and excitement to surprise your dear friend since he’s coming home today. you can vividly remember the last text you read; he was at the train station and you had to estimate the time of his arrival and the time he would be at home instead of asking him.

however, you’re caught slightly off guard when a different man opens the door for you instead. nonetheless, your lips curl to a sweet smile and there’s a brief of awkward silence before he speaks. you know him, but he doesn’t seem to remember you at all.

“you’re..?” with a tilt of his head, he looks down at you with a curious brow. 

“it’s me, mr. fushiguro!” you offer your name, scrutinizing the expression on his face as his forehead crinkles while he jogs through his memories. then he glances at you and away in thought and back at you again with wide eyes when he finally recalls.

“oh, it’s you!” he ruffles your hair, a bit too enthusiastic in spite of his usual character that you were always familiar with. “i haven’t seen you in a while.”

you let out a little laugh, “yeah. i think i was fourteen the last time i saw you, mr. fushiguro. but it’s nice to see you again.”

“ah, yes. i had to go out of town and overseas for business a lot.” toji explains, rubbing the back of his neck, slightly bashful that he didn’t recognize the girl– no, woman before him even when you both have met plenty of times back when you often came to play with his son since you both were still little. 

but can anyone blame him? time works wonders and now the little girl he used to know has grown to be much more mature and gorgeous and so... demure.

“yeah, megumi told me. speaking of him, is he home?” you finally inquire, bringing up the reason why you’re here in the first place. 

two.

“why don’t you come in first? it’s cold outside.” he says before immediately turning around without answering your question. you close the door behind you and follow him closely, also somewhat intimidated when you realize how tall and huge he is– the tight fitting shirt stretches over his wide back and accentuating his physique even more. his arms are toned and popping with veins, not the way you used to remember at least, but you’ve never cared to notice. you’re not certain of his age either, but you’re pretty sure you’d be surprised if you find out.

“do you want coffee or tea?” toji suddenly breaks the silence as you nervously stand in the middle of the room to take a glimpse around the kitchen like it’s your first time being there, completely heedless over his gaze lingering up and down your curves, observing the figure of a girl who just freshly went through her womanhood and your lascivious beauty before he quickly turns around to grab two mugs from the cabinet. 

“anything is fine.” you politely reply, fear of sounding somewhat demanding if you choose your preference despite being offered with choices. 

“come on, you’re giving a man a hard time.” he jokes. “and sit down.”

he’s trying to extend his invitation though intentionally sounding assertive, but when he sees that you are quick to comply and scramble to your seat, he finds it to be... stimulating. at least he knows that you’re docile and he wonders if he could put it to the test. well, doesn’t matter. he will.

“coffee is good.” you smile, interrupting his train of thoughts and he pours the coffee from the pot before walking over to hand you your mug. 

“unfortunately,” he sits down on the chair next to you. “megumi isn’t home right now.” toji puts his lips between the warm mug and softly blows before sipping his coffee. “he wanted to take a short trip to the store but i think he’s going to be stuck there for a while.” he looks out the window to only see pitch black staring back at him along with roaring thunder from the skies.

“oh.” you mutter, taking a careful sip of the hot brew. a little disappointed that you couldn’t see megumi yet, but his dad is right– it’s nearly a disaster outside but you find no point hanging around any longer either.

“is it too bitter? you don’t like it?” his voice laces with concern when he notices your face involuntarily scrunches up at the bitter taste. 

you quickly shake your head, “no, no. it’s fine!” you reassure, afraid that he’ll take offense from the coffee he personally made. “besides, if megumi isn’t here, i–”

three.

“oh, it’s fine if you wait here for him.” he cuts you off. “unfortunately, we don’t have an extra umbrella.” the corners of his lips tug into a comforting smile and you are quick to relax into it. 

you’ve always found toji to be quite frightening when you were young. he seemed like someone who never smiled, always had a sombre and intense vibe to him that no child would be too fond of.  there was no exchange of words between you two, except for your constant brief hello and a smile that you did out of courtesy whenever you bump into him inside his house, even though he never replied anything back. not even a crack on the lips to return the smile. 

but today is different. probably because he finds it easier for him to talk to an adult than a child and you’re relieved that you’re able to humor him in some way.

“so, are you and megumi a thing?” he abruptly asks and glances at you as he sips his coffee.

“no, we’re not!” you titter, waving a hand in dismissal as you bring up the mug to hide your face from embarrassment.

“oh?” a glint of amusement and surprise shines in his green eyes. “are you sure?”

you blink at the question as heat warms your cheeks from the thought of dating your best friend. “yes, megumi and i are just friends. really.” 

“why? because you have a boyfriend?” toji pries, uncaring if he sounds intrusive to you and you only assume that he’s trying to strike up a conversation in some old fashioned way.

you just shake your head and laugh, “it’s not that, either.” 

“hmm,” he props his elbow on the table leisurely, head resting on his fist as he looks at you intently, as if in search of something. “you’re pretty hard to figure out.” 

“what do you mean? i don’t think so.” you smile, bringing up the mug to cover your face again so you can shy away from his intense gaze yet he thinks that it’s endearing and he finds himself grinning unwillingly. 

toji notices how you always try to look away when you get so shy over some simple questions. you’re just oozing with purity and innocence of a maiden and something dark and twisted inside him is craving to violate every part of it. 

“for a start, i can’t figure out why you don’t have one.” he says, tapping his fingertips on the table as his mind is running with sinful thoughts. 

“hmm, maybe because i haven’t found anyone interesting yet.” you finally lock your eyes with his as you answer, not wanting to come off as rude if you keep on talking without looking directly at the man.

“isn’t my son good for you?” he couldn’t care less to be honest; he only plans to test the waters and is even more aroused to learn that you’ve never been touched by a man before and he feels like a wolf that’s just ready to pounce on a lost, little lamb.

“oh, no, no!” why do you have to get so bashful? he’ll fuck you on this table if you don’t stop. “we just don’t see each other that way.”

he’s so lost in his thoughts and carnal desires that whatever you’re babbling seems to go in one ear and out the other.

“then, what do you think of me?” he asks nonchalantly with a smirk plastered across his face.

you blink at him once, twice. “uhh, what?” is he suddenly getting self-conscious? 

“you heard me. what do you think of me?” yet he doesn’t seem like it either.

“umm,” you ponder for a moment as you think of every adjective you can find in your head that wouldn’t come out offensive if you’re going to be honest with him. why would he even ask you such a thing anyways? and why would it matter to him? there’s nothing nice about him that you could exactly pinpoint from the past except for ‘scary’, ‘serious’ and some other things revolving around those.

“i thought that you were kinda... scary?” you blurt unsurely, mentally slapping yourself for even daring to say such a thing to him. unless it’s a vibe that he was going for, then you’d be relieved. 

it isn’t exactly what toji wants to hear but he laughs heartily, “really?” a shiver runs down your spine when he looks at you again, his eyes glimmering with daunt. “but are you still scared of me?”

“uh, no.” you laugh. “you’re actually really nice, mr. fushiguro.” 

“oh, that makes me feel better.” another grin etches on his scarred lips as he draws his gaze to your hands that are tensing and fiddling with your sleeves and your leg is bouncing; a perfect depiction of a trembling lamb cornered in his den– and he’s fucking starving. 

has he got you on edge? are you nervous? good. “but i think you should.”

a lump catches in your throat and your heart drops, “i- what?”

the chair emits a screeching sound and it stumbles backwards as toji abruptly stands up from his seat. sheer panic causes you to rise on your feet too, and your eyes dart to the chair, and the male, back and forth as your mind tries to get a grasp on the situation.

“mr. fushiguro..?” you whisper meekly, taking a step away and around the table as you notice him taking a careful yet threatening inch closer. 

“no, no. i’m not gonna hurt you.” toji (barely) reassures you as he continues creeping on his feet. but the sinister smile on his lips takes out every last bit of faith you had in him and the loud voice in your head keeps telling you to run for the door and never look back– fuck the rain.

 as if he can read through your thoughts, he warns. “but i will, if you run.” 

the smile on toji’s face turns smug when he sees you freeze in place upon his threat. being trapped under the unpleasant situation triggers your fight or flight responses and rapid heartbeat drums in your ears as you stand in trance and trepidation.

“that’s a good girl.” he coos, taking another step forward before you decide to throw a mug at him and dash towards the door as fast as you can. you assume that toji has pushed the table to the floor when you hear a loud thud, followed by his hasty footsteps as he catches up quickly behind you. 

the door that is finally within arm’s reach suddenly changes into a mirage when a strong pair of arms grabs you by the waist and your body floats as it lifts onto his shoulder. the huge contrast between the size of your body and his should let you know; no matter how much you try to resist, he will never budge. yet, your arms and legs still flail around in an attempt to punch and kick him and you’re screaming for him to let you down and just hope that anyone is able to hear your cries in spite of the thunderstorm. 

well, so much for luck.

“ah, ah. you don’t wanna do that.” there’s a mocking and amusing tone in his voice as he advises you. “you should save that energy later. juuust in a bit.” 

“mr. fushiguro– stop–!” you sob, watching your only escape slowly disappears out of sight when he turns to a corner and into a dark room. your body bounces onto a mattress before toji’s huge, ripped figure swiftly looms above yours and ties your hands together with a belt and onto the headboard. at this point, the illuminating lights through the windows are the only thing that aids your vision and you have to rely more on your senses.

“shh,” he shushes you with a finger against your trembling lips. “the neighbors will hear. and if they do, i want it to be because you’re getting fucked so good. so be a good little girl for daddy, okay?”

regardless of being terrified, you find yourself cringing over the nickname he refers to himself. hopefully, he won’t ask you to call him that either. “mr. fushiguro– i– please don’t do this. i- i won’t tell anyone.” 

toji tsks, taking his sweet time to admire your smaller body underneath his– the exposed, soft skin on your neck waiting to be bruised, chest heaving as your breath comes deep and short, and legs pressing together to secure your modesty; though will prove to be futile later. 

“i know you won’t.” his thumb grazes against your lips, mesmerized by its plushness as he imagines it wrapped prettily around his throbbing cock. “are you a virgin?”

you only nod your head, eyes wavering as you look at his darker ones before catching it shine with interest. 

“never had anything inside here?” he asks again, pressing your cunt against the fabric of your pants with his fingers. the dark room makes it hard to see, but your cheeks are turning red from humiliation and you look away before shaking your head no.

“are you sure?” toji’s thumb presses down on your clit and causes your body to shudder apprehensively.

“o-only my finger.” you audibly whisper through the white noise outside. 

oh, how exhilarating. guess the innocent looking ones can be lewd too. don’t you know that a cock would make you feel better? a big cock like his is definitely what you need. just a finger wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you! poor little thing. 

“then i got to teach you a few things, right? it’ll come handy later. boys love girls with experiences.” he promptly strips you off from your pants before carelessly throws it to the ground and kneels between your legs to keep you wide and open for him.

“you like to be touched here?” his finger reaches down to ghost over your clothed clit, observing you with lust filled eyes while you turn away from his gaze and remain unresponsive. “daddy is a very impatient person so i suggest you answer me.”

toji pinches your clit, and your body squirms with an elicited yelp. you can only guess (and hope) that he wasn’t referring to him touching you there but you answer anyway, “y-yes.”

he hums in satisfaction, moving down until his head stops between your thighs and in front of your sex. toji grabs your thigh and spreads them apart before flattening his warm tongue against your clothed bud, causing a shiver to run down your spine and it quickly draws your attention to him.

your face heats up in embarrassment when you see toji’s head dipped in front of your pussy, but he’s only calm and teasing as his jade eyes stare up to lock with yours to look for a reaction.

“you’ve never felt a tongue over here either, hm?” he sneers, rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb and you mentally curse yourself for feeling slightly aroused over his ministrations. 

“just let me go, please.” you try to close your legs, but to no avail when his rough hands push them away.

“you know, if you keep asking for ridiculous things,” toji tuts and grasps your supple thighs hard, nails digging painfully on your skin. “i might have to get rough on you. but you’re a smart girl and you wouldn’t like that, right?” 

“n-no.” you choke and fidget.

“good. because i only want you to feel good.” he offers a gentle smile and kisses the dented mark on your thigh. “so, let’s start over. you haven’t answered me.”

you nibble your lip hesitantly and look anywhere but him, “no.”

“see? all the more reason for me to show you what you’ve been missing out.” he chuckles, tugging your underwear to the side impatiently.

“fuck. such a pretty pussy.” he growls at the sight of your bare cunt. there isn’t a lot of slick yet, but it’s fine, he’ll make you get there. that’s the point of this whole ordeal, right?

your body quivers naturally once you feel the foreign sensation; wet, warm muscle prodding your puffy folds up to your clit and circling on it with the tip of his tongue teasingly as he observes you from below. 

your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are caught between your teeth as you try to restrict your whines from the undeniable pleasure rushing in your veins and he doesn’t stop�� your pathetic attempt to deny him and your sentiments only drives him to push you over the edge even more. 

with a harsh suck on your clit, he manages to get you to squeal and you can feel him smirking underneath you. toji flattens his tongue and laps off your juices again before he takes you by surprise when he suddenly slides a finger inside your tight, wet cunt. 

“shh. it’ll feel good, baby girl.” he comforts when he hears you whimper at the pain inflicted and true enough, it soon begins to feel good. you’ve fingered yourself plenty of times before, but it feels different when he does it for you– his finger is thick and long that it reaches deeper than you’ve ever been able to.

toji notices you start to become quiet so he slides in another digit, eliciting yet another sob from you. the warm and moist cunny makes his cock twitch and he finds himself getting eager. your back arches from the bed when toji curls his fingers to stroke the bumpy tissues of your g-spot with every drag.

“feels good, yeah?” he grins arrogantly as your legs tremble under his hold. your breathing has turned erratic and your toes are curling as your mouth gapes in pitiful, broken cries that are just music to his ears. 

“answer me, sweetheart.” he presses down a thumb on your neglected clit, reminding you that he is not keen on being ignored and disputed. 

“y-yes.” you finally choke through pants and shame. though the answer comes out in hesitance, your body is more honest– pussy sopping and eliciting obscene squelches and it’s enough to satisfy him for now. 

your head thrashes side to side as you feel yourself about to tip over but you still refuse to beg toji for a release. 

“hah– fuck!” you whimper loudly when toji oh-so-generously sucks your clit again, fingers pumping faster inside your cunt, making your body feel even more tense with overbearing stimulation before finally pushing you over the edge and you break into a silent scream.

toji laps off your slick before he pulls out his finger into his mouth and licks them clean. 

“that’s a good girl. why don’t you taste yourself?” he climbs on top of you while you gasp for air from the intense orgasm and he easily pulls you into a fervour, sloppy kiss. you can feel the wet slick on his chin and you can taste yourself at the same time as he intertwines his tongue with yours. 

four.

out of spite and vexation, you found courage to bite his tongue hard and toji instantly pushes himself from you, his dark eyes express astonishment and agitation.

“fucking bitch.” he curses as his eyes narrow at you displeasingly before he takes off his pants and briefs to release his cock from its confinements. his cock is throbbing and thick, and you can almost see a trickle of precum on its head. you crumple at the sight as regret and anxiety washes over you.

“don’t worry, it’ll fit.” he says cockily upon the worrisome look on your face. “but since you like it rough, i’m sure you want to choke on it first.” 

“no– i’m sorry!” you shake your head but toji only lets out a scornful laugh as he disregards your pleas and props himself on the knees and over your neck.

toji slaps the tip of his cock on your lips, gesturing you to open your mouth but you purse them into a flat, thin line and refuse to obey. 

“open up. it’s a part of your lesson after all.” he snaps before squeezing your cheeks together. “it’ll get worse if you don’t listen to me.” 

“d-don’t wa-ant to– flea-shh.” you whimper and toji emits a long, deep sigh as he releases his grip. 

“i don’t like repeating myself.” his voice is laced with malice and chills crawls up your spine as his eyes look down at you demeaningly before you slowly open your mouth trepidatiously and wait for his next order. 

“no teeth. i think you’d know that much.” he patronizes before sliding his cock inside your mouth and he hisses as the warmth engulfs his throbbing cock. “that’s it. now, suck.”

and you have no choice but to obey submissively. you slightly lift your head and struggle to take his length as much as you can before running your tongue around to feel each prominent vein.

“i said suck, whore.” he commands through gritted teeth. you hollow your cheeks, compressing his fat cock tight between them as you bop your head up and down. 

“fuuuck, just like that.” toji groans as his hand reaches the top of your head and caresses you softly. you start to pick up the pace, slobbering his dick with so much saliva that it begins to seep from the corners of your mouth and it’s so wet and obscene– just the way he likes it. 

“it almost makes me think that this isn’t your first time.” his head falls back and hips begin to jerk until the tip hits the back of your throat, forcing you to take more than you could. you choke as tears start to well up in your eyes and the bedhead shakes when you try to tug your wrists. 

“what’s wrong? can’t take my fat cock?” he scoffs arrogantly. “you gotta work on your gag reflex, sweetheart.”

the muffles from your throat vibrate against his dick and toji groans in pleasure that he subconsciously rocks his hips, slapping your chin with his balls. your vision has become blurry and breathing becomes harder as you let him abuse your throat and your jaws ache before he abruptly pulls out and you can finally gasp for precious air.

“look at you,” his cock twitches with excitement when he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks from your doe eyes and he wipes them away with his thumb, making you flinch slightly, “are you sorry for making daddy mad?” 

toji always tries to articulate each word with appease. it’s never soothing per se when you can sense the threat entwining in his voice and it’s fucking you psychologically.

and it deems to be successful when you’re already trembling in fear underneath him. 

you’re uncertain whether he prefers you to speak or not, but your throat is sore so you meekly nod your head in response. it’s better than nothing, to be honest.

“good. open your mouth.”

your mouth is already parted for air but you assume that he wants to put his cock in again. submissively, yet dreadfully, you open your mouth wider and await for him to shove his cock back in but you’re surprised when toji spits in your mouth instead. 

it’s warm and disgusting; you’re just left gaping and repelled, and you want to spit it out but toji squeezes your cheeks together.

“swallow.” he orders. you quickly brace yourself and close your eyes before cringing as you gulp down the mix of saliva in your mouth and toji releases his grip once he’s certain that you’ve ingested. 

“i could’ve made you swallow my cum but i’d feel bad,” he chuckles sardonically. “what do you have to say?” 

“t-thank you.” you whisper vaguely and he accustoms his face to a simper. 

“good girl.” toji smashes his lips onto yours, yet his eyes are locked with yours ominously for a brief second– a telltale that he expects you not to pull up another stunt before they close as he deepens the kiss. 

obviously, nothing would benefit you whether you comply or defy, not until you’ve catered for his insatiable lechery. but you’ve learned your lesson and although you’re compelled, you finally relent as every ounce of resistance begins to drift from you. 

toji breaks the kiss and shifts lower, peppering greedy kisses on your neck before he catches the soft, chaste skin between his teeth to suck and form purplish bruising marks. he lifts up your shirt over your head and hastily unclasps your bra, causing you to shudder once the cold air hits your exposed breasts. 

large, calloused hands press your mounds before his mouth latches on one perky tit, while the other is tweaked with his fingers. experienced tongue draws circles and sucks punishingly, alternating with the other nipple. the headboard rattles as you keen over the stimulation and your eyes open in dismay when you feel something hard prodding your clit. 

he moves lower and spits on your cunt before propping on his knees to take off his tight shirt– through subdued glow, you can make out the outline of his toned abs and broad chest as his large build towers menacingly in front of you; even when he’s not standing on his feet.

“listen. daddy is going to release the binds, but do you promise to be good?” he asks, smearing the saliva with his cockhead and against your slit.

“yes. i- i promise.” you murmur appallingly; as if you have a choice in the matter.

toji leans over to unrestrain you then he observes you, expecting you to put up a fight but instead, you just remain still underneath him. 

he grins in satisfaction, getting off to the fact that you’ve fallen into submission before he shifts back into his prior position and bends your knees up to line his cock with your hole. a feeling of triumph stirs inside him when he’s reminded that he’s the ‘chosen’ one to defile your innocence.

“stop! it hurts–!” you wail and your hands clench the sheets when you feel toji’s thick cock stretching your virgin cunt slowly, but he ignores you, groaning at the warmth that engulfs him and the tight walls that clenches him as he selfishly pushes through. 

it burns. so bad. your chest heaves rapidly and you screw your eyes shut as your face twists to express pain and uncomfort. “please, please–! i can’t–”

“yes, you can.” his tone is indifferent as he holds you down since your body keeps on wincing until he finally fills you to the brim and he can see a bulge poking on your tummy. 

“fuck. haven’t been inside a virgin cunt for a while.” he mutters under his breath. “now, i know it hurts but i promise you’ll enjoy it. it’s just too bad that you get to have a big cock as your first.” he snickers nonchalantly and leans down closer to your face, making you jolt when you feel it inching deeper.

“if it makes you feel better– you’re fucking tight. just the way daddy likes it.” toji whispers in your ear but you can only freeze in fear and agony.

toji hovers above you, his hands firmly grip the headboard in front of him and he begins to move his hips; thrusting in and out of your pussy. 

your fists clench the sheets harder as a loud cry rips from your throat, “no! it hurts! please!”

but toji doesn’t seem to mind, his cyan orbs stare down at you coldly yet in focus as he relishes over the plush walls clamping down on his cock. 

“stop! stop– i- i don’t want–!” you continuously wail as you writhe in anguish before he suddenly stops pounding and he wraps his hand around your neck instead, instantly drawing your attention to him as he applies pressure in his hold. 

“if you don’t stop whining like a bitch in heat, i will fucking breed you like one.” he warns through gritted teeth, clearly agitated over your act of defiance. 

“you want this. you’re going to love this.” his words are sick endeavours to coerce you into another round of complete submission. 

but what else can you do? toji’s hand is so large that his middle finger and thumb almost reach each other as it clasps around your frail neck and you know he can easily crush your windpipes if he wants to.

“say it. you. want. this.” he seethes.

“i. want. this.” you barely croak each word and they’re slowly influencing your cloudy mind. as soon as he releases you, you soothe the pain around your throat with your hand as you gasp for air.

“fuck. don’t think i didn’t feel you clenching around my cock just now.” he sneers and situates himself again before ruthlessly and steadily continuing where he left off. 

you only close your eyes and bite your lips hard to stop whimpering as you mentally comfort yourself and dissolve every inch of your sanity; i’m going to enjoy it, it’s going to feel good soon, i want this, i want this.

soon enough, toji notices that your muscles have relaxed– suggesting that you’ve finally caved in as pleasure overtakes you so he fucks you deeper and faster before he falls on his elbows and you can feel his bangs tickling your face.

“that’s it, baby. you make daddy feel so fucking good.” he praises between grunts. you can feel the veins on his cock dragging against your walls and he’s right, it feels so good and your lips open in breathless pants.

you find your arms to loosely wrap around his neck and your legs around his waist as if clinging onto him for dear life as toji ruts into your cunny like a feral beast. 

“you like it, yeah? this is what you want, isn’t it?” 

through hazy mind, you can only manage to whimper an audible ‘yes’ as you feel an odd, yet almost familiar knot twisting in your lower stomach begging to snap and your nails dig into the skin of his broad back upon the intense sensation shooting through your body. 

a low, deep guttural sound leaves his throat when he feels your nails sinking and scratching his back– it prompts him to quicken his pace and you can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix over and over, causing your back to arch simultaneously. 

“i’m– i’m gonna–!” you keen as your body trembles in anticipation and your sopping cunt is clenching on his throbbing cock like a vice. 

“fuck yeah. cum on daddy’s cock.” toji urges and nips on the sensitive skin of your neck to tip you over the edge and your pupils blow wide as you break into a scream. despite being your second orgasm for the night, an overwhelming euphoria washes over you for the first time of your life; is this what it feels like? you don’t know, you’ve never had one (at least not from a cock) and your pussy is just fluttering, pulsing and creaming around his cock. 

“hah– fuck. good girl.” 

toji remains to snap his hips, fucking you through your high as you’re left in daze from your orgasm. toji can feel his balls tensing and his thrusts are turning sporadic as he inches closer to his climax. your whines and nonsense babbles are drowned by the feeling of pleasure that’s enveloping him and he doesn’t even have the resolution to listen to you gibbering when your cunny is just milking him, sucking him in like it doesn’t want to let go and he just wants to give what your greedy pussy asks for; to fill it up with his thick load until it’s full and leaking out of you. 

and daddy knows best, after all.

“shit– i won’t be able to hold it any longer. say you want daddy’s cum.” he grunts.

you’ve partly snapped out of your daze when you hear his voice again, and though you can’t see his face that’s already buried next to your head, you’re petrified and it’s making you feel dizzy and suffocated. 

“i– n-no. please not–” you sob through your raw throat.

but toji doesn’t listen and you don’t know if you’re relieved or not because if he does, you know that it’ll tick him off and it’s going to do you more harm than good– but you’re scared and it hurts, that you unwillingly start to snivel again.

“shut up. you’re gonna take it like a good cumslut.” he shoves two long fingers in your mouth, causing you to choke on them.

“daddy’s gonna cum in this pretty pussy and you’re gonna fucking take it.” 

toji’s grunts ring in your ears and you’re able to feel his cock twitching inside you before he finally releases hot ropes of cum– filling up and defiling your womb.

“y-you came inside..” you mumble once he takes out his fingers as you’re left entirely devastated and stupefied. 

“fucking did.” he pants, lifting his body up from you and pulls out his cock to shove back the dribbling cum that’s leaking from your abused cunny with his finger. you would wince but your mind is already numb and your body is sore that you can do nothing but burn holes through the ceiling above.

“don’t look so sad.” the room resonates with his chuckles and he gets off the bed to put back on his pants. toji walks over to the nightstand where a pack of cigarettes await him and he puts one between his lips and you can hear the flicking sounds of a lighter as he tries to burn the tip. 

“i can promise you that other guys wouldn’t be rough as me but one thing’s for sure,” he inhales the tobacco and exhales in a gratifying manner, “that will stay as the best fuck of your life.”

fat tears stream down your cheeks and you curl on your side, protecting your now-ruined-body as you quietly sob and your mind takes you back from how the ordeal even started and causes you to end up where you are right now– and it only makes you cry harder.

toji only lets out an exasperated sigh. he grabs his shirt from the floor and throws it on his shoulder before reaching the door.

“megumi won’t be coming home ‘til tomorrow. he said something about the train and the weather, so you can leave when you’re done. you know your way out.”

you hear the door close shut behind him and you’re left in the dark with nothing but the smell of his tobacco and the sounds of the drizzling rain accompanying you as you drown in your thoughts and griefs. 

how many mistakes have you made today? four? five? or more? 

you’ve lost count and you question yourself over again until you’re no longer able to care.

what’s done is done.

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

enjoyed this work? wanna buy me coffee? :)

[amazingmsme]

Well if You Really Don’t Like Him...

AN: Here’s that fic about Godot flirting with Phoenix just to get at Edgeworth. This was seriously SO much fun to write! Ugh I love all these dorky ass lawyers, I need more content. So here you go, have some jealous Edgeworth, flustered Wright, & a very flirty Godot, all served to you on a silver platter!

Godot sat in the prosecutions office, reading over some old case transcripts. Detective Gumshoe was mulling about the room, browsing some of the books on the shelf. Godot snickered to himself, drawing Dick's attention.

"Something funny Prosecutor?" he asked with a curious smile. It was rare that he heard the other man laugh, so it warmed his heart to hear the sound.

"Yeah, actually. I can't help but notice... Is something going on between Edgeworth and Trite?" he asked, holding a page closer as he inspected the words. "I mean, it's hard to pick up a person's tone just from text, but I can't imagine another way to interpret this," he mused.

"Who? Oh you mean Wright! Yeah, we've all been wondering the same thing. He and Prosecutor Edgeworth have more chemistry than a chemical reaction!"

Godot smiled and shook his head. "Your analogy is weaker than decaf, but your point still stands."

"Hey!" Gumshoe shouted defensively, pouting at the other man's words.

"So I'm not crazy? Do they actually like each other? Because I can't possibly find any other meaning behind, "Court is no place for such fanciful stories. But if you drop by my office, I'd be more than willing to... indulge you?" Did Miles actually say this shit?" he asked, barely containing his laughter. One hand pressed against his forehead, fingers curling in the white locks as his shoulders shook with his chuckles.

"Heh, yeah I remember that. Poor Nick blushed redder than a ripe tomato!" he exclaimed, smiling at the memory.

"Hm, so Trite embarrasses easily? That's interesting," he hummed.

Detective Gumshoe shrugged. "Yeah, but he seems to get flustered a lot more when Edgeworth's involved," he explained. He found the book he'd been searching for, and bid him ado with a nod and quick wave. Diego was left pondering the new information, a sly smirk forming on his face.

The next day he strode into Edgeworth's office with even more swagger than usual. He sat on the corner of his desk, crossing one leg over the other. He slurped his coffee loudly to gain the other's attention. Miles sighed and glanced up at him.

"May I help you?"

"Who me? Nah, I just came in here to chat," he said, but the grin on his face told of an underlying motive.

"Please, you of all people are the last to want to chat while working. What's really going on?" he asked, cutting to the chase. Godot shrugged.

"A little birdie told me you might have feelings for Trite."

Miles stiffened, but other than that showed no outward emotions. "His name is Wright, and that's preposterous. I merely admire his skill in court and respect him as a peer. You would be wise to do the same."

"Really? 'Cause Dick sure thinks there's something more to it," Diego said. Edgeworth snorted out a puff of air in lieu of a laugh.

"And you believed him? Gumshoe is a well intentioned man, but he can let his imagination get the better of him."

"Transcripts don't lie bud. And I can smell the truth like a fresh pot of coffee." Miles rolled his eyes.

"Of course you can," he said sarcastically. "Now if you're done reciting your little fairytales, I'd love to get back to work," he said, opening a thick binder and smacking Godot's leg with the front half as he opened it. He stood, getting the hint.

"You know, that reminds me of something you said to Trite in court," he spoke as he began to pace the room. He piqued his interest, so he continued. "Something about fanciful stories, and him stopping by your office to "indulge" you," he said using air quotes.

Miles abruptly stood, slamming his hand on the desk. "That's out of context!"

Godot shrugged, swirling the coffee in his cup. "Trust me, the context doesn't make it sound any better. I'm surprised the two of you ever manage to reach a verdict, what with all the flirting going on."

"It's not flirting! It's merely playful bickering between childhood friends, nothing more," he reasoned.

"Is that what you call it?" he asked, cocking his head to the side and stuffing his free hand in his pocket. Edgeworth practically growled at him, shooting a harsh glare his way.

"What exactly are getting at Godot?" he asked crossing his arms over his chest.

"So you really don't like Trite?"

"For the last time, his name is Phoenix Wright. The fact that you don't refer to him as such is wildly immature and petty."

Godot smirked in triumph. "You sure are defensive of him."

"Of course I am; he's my friend and a talented attorney who, might I remind you, proved my innocence and convicted my father's true murderer. So I won't stand idly by while you blatantly disrespect him," he snapped. He turned his back to him, busying himself with straightening stacks of paperwork.

"You misinterpret my intentions," he said, holding up his hand placatingly. Edgeworth looked over his shoulder, watching as he sipped his coffee.

"Then enlighten me."

"I admit I've been giving him a hard time. But most guys do that when they have a crush," he bluffed. Miles whipped around to face him.

"Ha! You're lying through your teeth, I know how much you despise him," he said, seeing right through the lie.

"Do you? Or was that just a front I put up to hide my feelings?" Edgeworth paused, considering the possibility.

"I don't know what your angle is, but you should stop while you're ahead. If you're only doing this to get at me, then I'm telling you right now it will all be in vein. But please, don't bring Phoenix into this if it's only a farce. He's had his heart broken before, and I won't allow you to needlessly toy with his emotions."

"Aw, how noble. Truly a knight in shining armor. But if you aren't in love with him, why should you care?"

Edgeworth recoiled, a pink tint coloring his cheeks at the L-word. "B-because he's my friend!"

Godot smiled softly, staring at his reflection in the dark liquid inside his cup. "I wondered what had happened to the hard ass prosecutor I knew. What made you go soft. But then I met Mr. Wright," he said, complying with his wishes and using his actual name.

"Don't act like I was someone to admire. I had lost myself and forgot what justice really meant. He merely opened my eyes," he explained.

"Now that's sounds like a love confession if I've ever heard one. You two go together like coffee and cream: he sweetened the dark bitterness you're known for and made you more palatable."

Edgeworth straightened to his full height, hair falling in front of his face. "Excuse me? I refuse to be insulted in my own office!"

"Well that was hardly an insult."

"You just called me bitter an insinuated that I was intolerable," he deadpanned.

"Heh, I did, didn't I? Well I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"Whatever. I request that you leave my office so that I may get back to work," he said, sitting back down at his desk.

Godot snorted in amusement. "That's the kindest way I've ever been told to get the hell out."

"Now."

"Alright, alright." He turned to leave, but paused at the door. Miles sighed deeply.

"What now?"

"If you really don't like him, then you shouldn't mind if I flirt with him, right?" he asked smugly. Edgeworth's head snapped up with a gasp. He made to stand, a protest already on the tip of his tongue, but Diego shut the door before he could say anything.

Miles was left in his office, seething with a quiet rage. He couldn't go after him, that would only prove his point. So he did the only thing he could think to do. He pulled out his phone and texted Franziska.

be mean to Godot

A few minutes later, his phone dinged with her reply.

lol ok. Why?

because we're mad at him >:(

what did that fool do now?

He thought about his answer carefully before sending it.

he's going to break Wright's heart

No, he couldn't send that.

he accused me of being in love with Wright

He shook his head, deleting the message and starting over.

nothing. Just let him know you're angry

haha got it. I'll whip his mask clean off his face! >:)

He chuckled softly at his sister's antics.

maybe not that mean

By the next day, Miles had mostly forgotten about his conversation with Godot. That was until he walked into the courthouse and was greeted by his stupid smug face.

"There you are Edgey boy!" he greeted enthusiastically, coffee sloshing in its mug.

"Don't call me that."

"Right, only Phoenix can call you that," he teased. Miles allowed a smirk to grace his features.

"Or Larry. He was the one who came up with the nickname after all." Godot hummed as he walked beside him. For a moment, the only sound was their shoes clacking in unison on the linoleum tiles. Then they spotted Phoenix and Maya come out of a debriefing room. Miles shot Godot a glare.

"Don't you dare," he threatened.

"Oh I dare," he said, trotting away and over to his target. Phoenix spotted him coming his way and quickly turned around, grabbing Maya's arm and speed walking away. He kept his head down and eyes focused on the ground. Maya let out a small "ope" sound as he dragged her along. She looked over her shoulder to see what made Nick turn so abruptly down the hall.

"Uuuh Nick? Godot's jogging right towards us," she whispered.

"I know," he said, keeping his voice down.

"Well what did you do?" she asked before plastering on a wide smile to hide her confusion when the man approached suddenly. "Heeeey!" she waved, coming off as overly friendly in an attempt to hide the fact they were just talking about him.

"Hey Trite, whatcha been up to?" he asked, sidling up next to him. He slung his arm around his shoulders and pressed into his side. Phoenix made a small noise of shock, body going rigid.

"Umm, I was in a briefing," he said, casting a glance towards Maya. She merely shrugged.

"That's nice. So what's this case about?" he asked, letting genuine curiosity seep into his voice. Edgeworth was grumbling to himself as he stormed after him. He needed to intervene somehow.

Phoenix was slightly taken aback by the question. "Oh! It's nothing too exciting, just an assault charge."

Godot clicked his tongue, tipping his mug in his direction. "That's a real shame, your best work is on murder cases."

Wright blinked in surprise. "Really?" he asked skeptically. "I thought you said that I was a sloppy rookie who didn't deserve to be where I am today," he sassed, crossing his arms and looking him up and down.

He winced slightly, hearing his own words said back to him. He needed to try to smooth this over to seem sincere.

"Oooooo," Maya said in typical childish fashion, like when another student is called to the principal's office. She shut herself up when Godot shot her a look. A small, guilty smile was still on her face however.

Edgeworth had been able to hear most of the conversation and was eager to hear the prosecutor dig himself out of that one.

"My opinion of you is starting to change amigo," he said smoothly, taking a sip. Phoenix's eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm truly shocked to hear you admit that you've changed your mind," Miles spoke snidely. He purposefully stood closer to Phoenix, subtly separating the two. Godot noticed and smirked.

"What can I say? It's called growing as a person," he snarked back. Godot reached out and grabbed Edgeworth by the shoulder, then had the gall to shove him out of the way. He leaned into Wright's personal space, posture lax with one hand in his pocket. Phoenix had a nervous grin on his face, cheeks growing pink.

"Aaah I'm- glad for the personal development," he said, arching his back a bit to lean away. He gave a quick and confused glance towards Miles, as if to say "what the hell's going on?"

"Didn't anyone ever teach you about personal space? I'm sure he would prefer not to have to smell your coffee breath," he scolded, and this time it was Godot's turn to blush from embarrassment.

Maya snorted and giggled softly, and Phoenix had to plaster his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. His cheeks were puffed up with air as he struggled not to chuckle along. The sight was utterly adorable, and Miles felt pride in the fact that he made him laugh.

Godot's lip twitched in an angry sneer as he straightened his tie. "For your information, my breath is perfectly fine. I make sure to always have gum on me," he explained. Maya and Phoenix shared a look somewhere between amusement and annoyance at their exchange.

Godot looked over at Phoenix and flashed his most dazzling smile. "After all, you never know when you'll need fresh breath."

He let out a quiet gasp, eyes shifting down to his mouth for a split second. Godot pulled out his pack of gum, flicking it open with his thumb. "Care for a piece?"

"Oh! I-um- sure," he stuttered, reaching out and taking one.

"Sweet! Can I have some?" Maya asked, batting her eyes. Godot looked down at her, deflating slightly as he remembered she was there. "Oh, yeah I guess," his voice didn't have near the same tone as when he was addressing Phoenix. She either didn't notice or didn't care, snatching two pieces of gum. She offered one to Edgeworth, which he accepted with a soft smile.

"Thank you Maya. I think I'll save mine for later. Like you said, I never know when I'll need a fresh mouth," he said, looking at Phoenix as he finished the sentence.

He smiled and looked down at the floor as his cheeks got redder.

Maya didn't know what was going on exactly, but she could definitely sense the awkward tension between Edgeworth and Godot. And it was clear that Phoenix was caught in the middle of their exchange.

"Um, I'm just gonna pick Pearl up from the play room," she excused herself, heading to the courthouse's daycare.

"Oh good. Maybe Edgey would like to go with you," he volunteered the other to leave. Phoenix quirked a brow hearing the nickname leave Godot's mouth. "Since when did you start calling him that?" He only received a shrug and a crooked grin in return.

"No offense Maya but I would not. Wright and I have plans for lunch," he bluffed, making said plans up on the spot.

"We do?" Phoenix asked, brows furrowing. Then his eyes widened as he caught on. "Oh yeah we do!" He stood next to Edgeworth, his shoulders releasing visible tension as he did so.

"Oh really? Where are you eating?"

They responded in unison, but with different answers.

"Jack's Burger Shack."

"Sashimi Temple."

Godot smirked, catching them in their lie. "Well? Which is it?"

"We haven't decided," Wright said, looking at Miles for "confirmation."

"Right. I'm good with whatever you want," he said, smiling at Phoenix.

"How can you tell when he's agreeing with you and when he's just saying your name?" Godot teased. He couldn't help but giggle at the question.

"Heh, I don't know, I guess I've just learned how to tell the difference," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a half smile on his face and eyes squinted shut. Godot couldn't help but notice the strain on the fabric of his suit as he stretched his arm.

"Whoa, you been workin' out Trite?" he asked and before he could answer, he reached out and squeezed his bicep. His face flushed at the contact.

"Oh y-yeah, you noticed? Glad to see it's starting to pay off," he said, admiring his own arms. He flexed again, striking a new pose.

"Mind if I start calling you espresso? 'Cause you sure can pack a punch," Godot all but purred. Edgeworth couldn't believe that Phoenix was falling victim to his sleazy charm. Who was he kidding, if someone as attractive as Godot hit on him, he'd cave just as quickly. He had to refrain from sneering.

"Ha! If you want I guess you could. But don't start calling me short," he said pointedly, but with just enough playfulness to still be considered flirty. Miles's eyes were still transfixed on Wright's admittedly large biceps. Godot saw the opening and took the shot.

He snapped his fingers right in his face to gain his attention. H blinked and flinched, attention drawn to his smug face. "Earth to Edgeworth. You copy?" He scoffed and shoved the hand out of his face. Phoenix nudged him gently.

"If you wanted to feel them too you could've just said so," he teased.

"That's not-" but his denial died on his tongue when he was met with both of their knowing looks. He turned his head away but still reached out to feel his arm. There was no way he was passing up that opportunity.

"Hard as a rock, huh?" Phoenix asked and yes, he was totally fishing for compliments.

"I was going to say like sculpted marble," he said smoothly. Miles couldn't let Godot be the only one flirting with him. Said man only smirked wider, seeing as he was proven right. Regardless what Edgeworth said after this, it would be undeniable that he had feelings for the defense attorney.

"So, you got room for one more or are you dining at a table for two?" he questioned, subtly inviting himself. Edgeworth was ready to shoot down the request, but Wright beat him to it.

"Uh, sure you can join." Curse his kind nature.

"Sweet. Not as sweet as you, coffee creamer," he let his voice drop an octave, flashing another dazzling smile. Phoenix giggled and hid his face in one hand.

"Oho man, that was like, really stupid."

"Made you laugh, didn't I?" he teased, propping his elbow on his shoulder as they walked. Miles walked behind them and watched the prosecutor like a hawk, gritting his teeth all the while. He was relieved when they got to the parking lot.

"Wright, would you be a dear and ride with me? I'd like your opinion on this case I'm working on," he requested. He immediately perked up and walked over, leaving Diego's side.

"Sure, I'd love to! It'll be nice to give my legs a break from all the pedaling," he joked, walking over to his car and pulled the door handle. When it didn't open he frowned and tried again. And again. He kept pulling, making the annoying clicking noise each time it failed to open the door. "Miiiiiles," he whined.

He shook his head with a fond smile, chuckling softly. He unlocked the car just as Phoenix tugged again. He wasn't expecting that and stumbled a few steps backwards. Godot, never one to miss an opportunity, purposefully knocked his foot out from under him, just so he could catch him in a dip.

Edgeworth gasped as he saw him fall, clenching his fist as he watched Godot swiftly catch him like some kind of techno prince charming. Phoenix let out a small yelp as he fell, gripping onto his vest as he was caught.

His mouth was slightly agape as he stared up at Godot. He wore a sly yet heart-melting grin. Phoenix stuttered out a quiet thank you.

"It was no problem. Be sure to watch your footing next time though," he said, clicking his tongue. The ace attorney felt his heartbeat quicken and butterflies fluttered inside his stomach. Edgeworth's eye twitched in anger and he cleared his throat.

"If my eyes serve me well, which they do, it was you who tripped him," Miles called him out. Godot shrugged guiltily and helped steady him on his feet.

"What can I say? It was just too tempting, just like how you look in that suit," he went on to compliment him. Phoenix's eyes widen, cheeks flushed. He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"M-me?" Godot nodded.

"Mhmm. It really brings out your eyes. Not to mention how nicely tailored it is." He bit his lip, looking him up and down. "You're about as enticing as a hot steaming cub o' joe," he flirted, laying it on thick. Wright's face turned beat red and he looked at the ground, flattered giggles leaving his lips. He tugged on the collar of his shirt. Edgeworth was by his side in an instant, ushering him closer to the car.

"Where you off to in such a hurry?" he taunted.

"Jack's Burgers," he practically growled, walking around the front of his car. He plopped in the driver's seat as Phoenix closed his door, waving at Godot as they drove off.

Edgeworth's jaw was set and he gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. Phoenix placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and he relaxed slightly.

"Miles what's wrong? You've been in a bad mood since I've seen you. Is it the case? Is that why you've been so grumpy?" he asked, concern clearly written on his face.

He sighed deeply. He should probably be honest with him- or rather halfway honest. He couldn't possibly tell him the whole truth.

"Actually I lied about that. I simply wanted to get away from him." Phoenix snorted in amusement.

"What's this? The great Miles Edgeworth lying? This must be serious," he chuckled, bumping their shoulders together.

He seemed to relax now that it was just the two of them. "He was really starting to get on my nerves."

"Yeah I noticed. He seemed to be in a lot better mood today, especially towards me. I don't know, but I can't help but think he's after something," he pondered aloud. Miles glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"He's a top prosecutor, he's always after something."

"You're not," Phoenix said gently. Edgeworth took a breath to steady himself.

"How do you know we're not after the same thing?" They reached a red light and he turned to look at him.

"I'd ask what it is, but I have a feeling you won't tell me," he smirked.

"You're right, as usual."

"Well it is my name after all," he joked. Miles chuckled and shook his head.

"That was awful. Why did I laugh?"

"Because you love me," he teased. Oh if only he knew how accurate that statement was.

"Heh, I suppose I do somewhat."

"Nah you adore me. Admit it, I'm your favorite person," he goaded, leaning into his personal space. He even went as far as to lay his head on his shoulder.

"You're tied with Franziska," he admits.

"Wow, that's high praise." He hummed in agreement.

When they arrived at the diner, Godot was already waiting for them. Miles rolled his eyes as  he spotted him leaning against the wall near the entrance. And where the hell did he find a toothpick? One leg was propped against the brick, arms folded across his chest and fuck he looked cool. If Edgeworth were a lesser man, he'd want to slap him.

"There you are! For a hot second there I thought you might've changed your mind and tried to ditch me," he taunted.

Miles wore a bored expression. "Don't tempt me."

"Hey, what happened to the Edgeworth that was in the car? All relaxed and smiley?" Phoenix asked, even poking his cheek to try and break the stern facade. He couldn't help but grin at the playful gesture.

"Ah, probably 'cause I'm here," Godot waved him off.

"Yes, that's precisely it," he answered with a rude smirk. Phoenix gasped.

"Miles!" he scolded.

"No no, it's completely my fault. I barged into his office and gave him a rude awakening of sorts. Please, allow me to make it up to you. Edgey."

He scoffed and Godot wrapped his arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. "Lunch, my treat." When Miles turned to look at him, they were practically nose to nose. And Godot was so smug, it was infuriatingly amusing. He cracked a smile and shook his head.

"I'd be a fool to pass up a free lunch."

"Atta boy!" he cheered, pulling Phoenix closer in the same manner.

They were seated at a booth in a corner. Godot motioned with a bow for Phoenix to sit first. He chuckled and slid into the seat. Before Miles could make it to the seat next to him, Godot sat down in the empty spot in one fluid movement. He shot Edgeworth a victorious smirk.

Wright picked up on the tension, drumming a rhythm on the table and whistling quietly. He tried to make small talk.

"Sooo Godot. Saying you like coffee would be an understatement. I'm curious, if you could make your own coffee, what would you call it?"

He perked up at the question, scratching the stubble on his chin. "I couldn't just make one coffee, I'd have a whole brand. It would be an assortment of the darkest roasts and combination blends out there. I think our signature brew would be called Laser Beans. Ya get it? Like laser beams but it's coffee beans," he rambled on about his imaginary coffee business.

"Please, you do not have to explain the elementary concept of your pun," Miles quipped. Just for that, Godot scooted closer to Wright.

"Another popular blend: number 162, the Phoenix. Strong and sweet, with an unexpected fiery kick that rises from the grounds. Just what you need on those long, rough days." Phoenix gulped, staring at the red lines of his mask. Godot cocked his head, looking over at a furious Edgeworth.

"Wouldn't you agree Miles?"

"Yes- I mean no- I mean- I'm not much of a coffee person," he fumbled over his words. He jerked his head to the side, focusing on a crack in the wall.

"I think he's just too embarrassed to admit it," he whispered loudly, making eye contact with Miles as he said it.

"Heh, yeah you got him good with that one," Phoenix agreed.

"Ngh- who's side are you on anyways?" he asked defensively.

"My side," he said, clearly proud of himself. Miles softened at those words, unable to stay annoyed at him.

"Of course you are."

The waiter came and took their drink orders before leaving them be.

"I'm surprised you got water. I was expecting coffee," Phoenix mused.

"It's important to stay adequately hydrated," he explained, browsing through the menu.

"With how much you drink it, I would've thought you'd drop dead asleep without it," Edgeworth teased, looking at his own menu.

"Nah, I could drink eight cups and go to sleep right after. I'm used to the caffeine," he said casually.

"Wait, then what do you do when you need to stay up? Drink a whole pot?" Phoenix asked, bumping their shoulders together. He turned to him with his most charming smile.

"Well, instead of coffee keeping me awake, I could just have you," he said in a sultry voice. Phoenix flushed a dark crimson with an embarrassed, lopsided grin on his face as his eyes shifted between Godot and Miles. He was rendered speechless, the only sound he was able to make was a drawn out "uuh."

Godot grunted in pain when Edgeworth swiftly kicked his shin.

"Quite forward, aren't we?" he growled.

"You know I am," he said, snapping his fingers at him.

"And has your vulgar cockiness ever gotten you far?" he countered.

"Sure it does. I always make it to home base," he teased. Miles was relieved when the waiter came to set their drinks down, disrupting the conversation. They asked if they were ready to order yet, but Godot had spent so much time flirting with Phoenix, that he'd barely looked at the menu. And Miles was so busy keeping him in line that he didn't know what to order either. So they asked for a few extra minutes.

"You should really consider using your time wisely," Edgeworth advised. Godot snorted and mumbled something about him doing the same.

"I think I'm gonna have the Jack classic, what about you?" Phoenix asked, looking across the table at Miles.

"I think I'll have the same," he said, offering a warm smile.

Godot's smirk grew. "I'm leaning more towards the thhhick patty," he said, drawing out the word. Phoenix arched a brow and chuckled.

"You really put a lot of emphasis on the word thick there," he teased.

"What can I say? I like a lot of meat on my buns," he leaned closer, placing a hand on Wright's knee and squeezed gently. Phoenix giggled and scooted away in the seat.

"Hey, watch it. I'm ticklish," he admitted. Godot grinned like a shark.

"Oh Trite, don't you know that's not something you admit?" he teased, repeating the motion. Phoenix barked out a laugh, pushing the hand away playfully. Miles was glaring daggers at them and grit his teeth. He was the picture of jealousy.

When Wright moved his hand away, Godot purposefully interlocked their fingers so that they were holding hands. Edgeworth let out an angry huff and held the menu up to block his view. Or maybe to prevent them from seeing the sneer on his face. The world is cruel however, and Godot is even crueler. Which is exactly why he grabbed the top of the menu and pulled it down to meet his eyes directly.

"Thought you said you knew what to order. Why're you hiding from us?" he asked, elbows propped on the table as he leaned forward.

"I... I'm not! I simply thought I saw someone I don't particularly like and didn't want them to see me. But looking at them now I realize my mistake," he easily lied.

"Yeah, you and I have made a lot of enemies," Godot agreed. He looked between Wright and Edgeworth. "At first I thought you two were. But now that I've gotten to know you both a little more, I realize that couldn't be farther from the truth." As much as he loved riling Miles up, his ultimate goal was to make him admit his feelings for the other.

They both flushed a pale pink, looking away. After the waiter took their orders, Phoenix excused himself to the bathroom. Godot was smiling smugly as he watched him leave.

"It's times like these that I'm grateful for my visor. It would be a real shame if I wasn't able to watch that ass leave, wouldn't you agree?" he asked, looking at him with a shit eating grin. Miles slammed a fist on the table in anger.

He spoke low so as to not cause a scene, but his jaw was still clenched. "I order you to stop this at once."

"What, the flirting? You said you didn't like him, so why should it bother you?" he asked innocently.

"You speak out of your ass, you use crude and childish humor, you're completely insincere, your pick up lines are cheesy and all coffee related, and you're invading his personal space constantly!" he scolded quietly. Godot shrugged.

"He sure doesn't seem to mind. Maybe he likes the attention. People tend to enjoy my company," he bragged.

"You have no intentions other than making me angry," he pointed out.

"And it's working," he boasted. Miles's mouth gaped open as he thought of a response.

"So what if it is? I could just as easily be angry due to the fact that he's my friend, and you're nothing more than some- some playboy who's trying to prove a point!"

"Aww you think I'm a playboy? That's my new favorite compliment," he said, resting his chin on his hands.

Edgeworth raised an unamused brow. "It really shouldn't be. You're classier than that, Diego."

He snorted in amusement. "Even after all those things you said about me?" Miles rolled his eyes fondly.

"Yes, even after all that. So be the bigger man and put an end to this," he reasoned.

"Depends. You got a crush on Wright?"

"I still don't see how that's any of your business."

He shrugged, halfway triumphant. "Hey, that's better than the harsh no I got earlier. You'll admit it sooner or later."

"Not to you I won't," he growled. Edgeworth fiddled with his napkin and laid it across his lap neatly.

"To be honest, I don't care if you admit it to me."

He cocked his head, looking at him skeptically. "You don't?"

Godot shook his head. "No. I just want you to admit it to Trite."

Edgeworth's eyes widened and he recoiled slightly at those words. "Are you insane? I can't possibly tell him that!"

"Tell me what?" Phoenix asked as he walked up. Miles stuttered out an answer.

"Oh! Um, I-I'll tell you later. Now isn't... a good time."

Phoenix gave him a look as he sat down next to him. "You sure you're okay? You're acting, I don't know, weird."

Edgeworth was going to come up with something to say to that, but Godot beat him to it. He held his hands up in surrender. "You got us. There's no reason to lie to him any more Edgey. Truth is, he's planning you a surprise party."

Phoenix's brows shot up. "Wow really? But it's not for another two months or so."

"Yeah well, you know him. Always so organized, and he thinks three steps ahead. Sorry about ruining the surprise," Godot apologized for wrecking the fake party.

Wright rubbed the back of his neck and offered a shy smile. "Don't be! Knowing me, I'll probably forget about it by then. So-"

He was cut off by Godot's phone ringing. "Sorry, one sec." He checked the caller ID, brows furrowing. "That's weird, it's Gumshoe. Hope everything's okay." He answered the call with a flick of his wrist, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hey Dick, everything cool?"

"IT MOST CERTAINLY IS NOT COOL!" Gumshoe screamed into the speaker. Godot winced and held the phone away from his ear. Edgeworth and Wright shared a look of slight concern.

"Is everything okay?" Phoenix asked quietly. Godot nodded and waved a hand as if to say "all good."

"Hey keep your voice down will you? You're about to burst my eardrum," he said with a small chuckle.

"NO I WILL NOT! JUST WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GETTING BETWEEN PHOENIX AND EDGEWORTH LIKE THAT?" Both men in question went stiff as a board, faces turning red.

Godot paled as he was chewed out. "Uuh hey this really isn't the time-"

"I DIDN'T TELL YOU THEY HAD THE HOTS FOR EACH OTHER JUST SO YOU COULD SWOOP IN AN' TRY TO STEAL WRIGHT AWAY LIKE THAT!"

Godot offered them an embarrassed grin. "Uh, can you excuse me?" They both refused to meet his gaze and just hummed in agreement. The prosecutor slid out of the booth, holding the phone up to his ear, speaking in a hushed yet firm tone.

"Listen Dick, you got it all wrong. I was just-"

"No you listen to me pal! Maya told me the whole thing!"

Godot walked into the bathroom of the restaurant to have a more private conversation. "Look, it's not like that. I'm not trying to hook up with Trite or whatever you think is going on."

"... You're not?" Gumshoe asked, sounding skeptical.

"No. In fact, I'm trying to get them together." Gumshoe snorted.

"You sure got a funny way of showing it."

"I'm making Edgeworth jealous so that he'll admit his feelings," he explained, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Ooooh, that's smart!"

"Yeah, so don't go blabbering to Phoenix. I know you can't keep a secret."

"Hey I can totally keep secrets! I just don't want to very often!" he defended himself.

"Alright, are we done here? 'Cause we're out at lunch, and our food should be getting here soon."

"Okay yeah, sorry about the mix up. I'll let you get back to lunch," Dick said, hanging up. Godot heaved a sigh of relief, wiping a few beads of sweat from his forehead.

Meanwhile, Phoenix and Miles sat in an awkward silence as they watched Godot leave. Miles was sitting rigidly, staring at the napkin in his lap. Phoenix twirled the straw around in his glass.

"C-can you believe him? Heh, Gumshoe sure does have an active imagination," Wright said nervously, desperate to break the silence. Miles was quick to agree.

"Yes, he does," he allowed a soft smile to grace his features. "I suppose he's a romantic at heart," he reasoned.

"Uh, yeah. I guess he is," he agreed. The expression on his face was a mixture of nervousness, confusion, and a touch of sadness. Edgeworth took a deep breath. It was either now or never.

"But is he wrong?"

Phoenix whipped his head over to look at him. "What?" He tried to mask the hopefulness in his voice.

"While what he says may seem odd or far fetched at times, he's usually right." He spared a glance at Wright, trying to read him.

"Miles, a-are you saying-"

"I like you Phoenix. As a friend, yes, but... also more," he finally admitted.

Phoenix practically lit up. "Really? Wow that's- I mean- I've liked you since the third grade!" he blurted out, relieved to finally get this off his chest.

"I... also had a bit of a crush. And when we met in court that first time, all those feelings I thought I'd left behind came flooding back." Wright reached out, holding his hand. They stared at each other, warm smiles lighting up the room.

Miles started chuckling softly, and Phoenix cocked his head, an amused smirk on his face. "What's so funny?"

"Godot was doing all this to make me jealous, so that I'd admit my feelings. And it worked."

He nudged him with his elbow teasingly. "Well then, I guess a thank you's in order." Edgeworth groaned, though it was just for show.

"If I thank him then I'll never hear the end of it," he complained lightheartedly.

"Maybe that's not the worst thing. You're cute when you're annoyed and embarrassed," Phoenix cooed, propping his arm on the table to rest his chin in his hand. Miles blushed softly.

"S-stop it, that's supposed to be my line," he grumbled playfully, looking away. Phoenix smirked and pecked his cheek, relishing in the way his blush darkened considerably.

Godot was watching from around the corner of the hall, letting them have their moment. He wore a satisfied smirk as he walked up to their table. Both Wright and Edgeworth scooted away, acting as though nothing had happened.

"Don't play coy you two. I knew my plan would work. You're welcome by the way." They were both rendered flustered and speechless, even as the waiter set down their food.

[gubler-me-up]

Unsung Heroes

Request: Hi! I just found your account and I am in LOVE. I know this is a sort of very specific ask, but could you write Spencer Reid dating a masculine/trans masculine person? I think it would be really cool so yeah lol thank u in advance 🥺🥺💖💖 (ur literally so damn talented)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, anon! Sorry it took a long time to get to but I’m glad I’m getting it out before the end of the year. This is my first masc trans reader fic out of two in my requests, so I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know if there is anything I can improve on or anything you would like to see in my next masc trans spencer reid fic that I didn’t portray well here. I did a bit of research to make sure my portrayal was accurate but I am always open to improving my work especially so readers feel comfortable and represented while reading. Hope you enjoy and happy reading! 💕

Couple: Spencer Reid/Masc trans!reader

Category: Fluff

Content warning: None just pure ~fluff~

Word count: 2.5k

————-

You threw on your favourite flannel to complete your outfit. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time to fix your hair properly before Spencer arrived. He might not be a fan of styling his hair but making sure your hair was to your liking was your thing. Especially after getting a fresh cut it was important to you that you made the best of it before your hair started to grow back.

You then quickly checked your beard to see if there were any noticeable razor bumps. You didn’t see any visible ones but the ones below the surface were always the dangerous ones. You ran your hand over your beard to feel for any up and coming bumps. You stopped your finger over a spot that felt tender to the touch.

“Ah, you already feel as if you’re going to be a pain,” you mumbled to yourself.

You heard soft knocks on your door before you could continue your battle with your soon to be razor bump. You grabbed your wallet and keys off of your dresser before leaving your bedroom to answer the door. You opened the door to see Spencer standing in front of you with his hands gripped on his satchel strap and an excited smile plastered on his face.

He gently lifted his satchel to bring your attention to it. You chuckled as you saw how full it looked. You looked at him with a quizzical expression as he started to laugh himself.

“I thought we could read some light literature as we indulge in these breakfast burritos you’re so excited about,” he said.

“I haven’t read a good book in a while let alone encyclopedias,” you chuckled.

“They’re not all encyclopedia’s. Just one,” he said.

You laughed as you closed the door behind you. You didn’t believe him one bit about only having one encyclopedia in his satchel but you weren’t going to overly tease him about it. You were more interested in him trying a breakfast burrito for the first time.

You originally didn’t get the hype over breakfast burritos for a while until you were running late to work one morning and saw a food truck nearby. They convinced you to try their breakfast burrito and you’ve been loyal to them ever since. You knew Spencer was more of a coffee and go person but you thought he might enjoy trying something new.

“We’ll find out the truth after we get something to eat,” you said.

Spencer smiled and nodded as he loosened his grip on his satchel strap. He let his hand loosely fall to his sides. You smirked as you reached your hand out to him and he immediately grabbed it. To say he was forever touched starved was an understatement.

You were glad you could give him something he didn’t already have plenty of in his life. Touching books and case files all day definitely couldn’t give him the physical touch he deeply desired. You were happy every day for the past six months you could be the one to embrace him in any amount of touch. Bonus points for him always smelling good as well.

Spencer pressed the button for the elevator. “Are these breakfast burritos really as good as you say they are?”

“You’re doubting me now?” You asked.

“No, I would never do that. I’m just saying we sometimes have different tastes in things,” he said.

“Oh? What kind of things?” You asked.

“Well, you prefer listening to more contemporary artists while I’m more into classical,” he said.

“Musical taste is whatever though. I can get down to Mozart any day,” you chuckled.

He laughed. “Well, you take your coffee with oat milk and three brown sugars. I take mine black with a little sugar.”

“If you think half the sugar canister is a little sugar then I don’t wanna know what you consider a lot of sugar.”

You both laughed as the elevator doors opened. You both stepped into it and you pressed the lobby floor. You looked at him with a smirk before grabbing his chin. He smiled at your touch as he looked lovingly into your eyes.

“What?” He asked.

“I think there’s one thing we can both agree we have good taste in,” you said.

You leaned in and kissed Spencer on the lips which you knew he longed for. He didn’t hesitate to embrace you fully into his mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever kissed a guy with softer lips than him. He latched his hands onto your face and started to stroke his thumb against your beard. It ran over the growing razor bump but you didn’t mind if he touched it.

You parted your lips from him before you changed your mind and opted to spend the day with him in your apartment. He chuckled and didn’t move his hands away from your face. It didn’t seem as if the good doctor was quite finished with you.

“You want another taste?” You joked.

He nodded. You obliged and leaned in to kiss him again. You could have him for breakfast all day every day. Since breakfast was taken up by a breakfast burrito with your names on it, you guessed you could have him for lunch instead.

————

You and Spencer had found a rock to sit on near the lake. The park was quite full for a Sunday morning but with such nice weather you couldn’t blame people for wanting to be out and about so early. You watched Spencer carefully as he took his time eating his breakfast burrito. You couldn’t quite tell if he liked it or not based on his blank stare into the water as he ate.

“How do you like it?” You asked.

He quickly snapped out of his long gaze into the water. He looked over at you and smiled but it couldn’t fool you. You knew something was running around that big brain of his and you wanted to know what.

“I like it. It’s definitely an interesting concept,” he said as he took another small bite.

“Spence, what’s wrong?” You asked.

He shook his head in response to you as he finished chewing. You gave him a second to finish whatever was left in his mouth before he started talking. He let out a drawn-out sigh before licking his lips.

“I was going over case files this week and went over this one from a few years ago. This little boy’s family was murdered  and he was the only survivor. Found out he left his aunt and uncle’s house to go into foster care. Apparently, he’s been having a hard time no matter where he goes,” he said.

“Well, from being a human I can tell you family sucks but from working in social work I can tell you the foster care system sucks. It’s hard to look at some of these cases and talk to these children having a hard time for sure,” you said.

“I just don’t feel as if I’m making a difference,” he confessed.

You shook your head in protest. If anyone was making a difference it was Dr. Spencer Reid. You knew how doubtful he could be of his capabilities sometimes but you knew he just needed a little reminder here and there.

“Are you kidding? You’re out here risking your life to catch serial killers every day and you don’t think you’re making a difference?” You asked.

“But it just stops there. The lives ruined never get fixed. The survivors never know a sense of peace. I just help solve cases and then move onto the next thing,” he said.

“You don’t have to deal with the social work or therapy side of these cases because there are people who take that area over for you. You do enough, Spence,” you said.

“And you do the most, Y/N. You’re so good at social work and when you’re not doing that you’re dedicating your time volunteering for homeless youths,” he said.

“It’s easy to volunteer though. Anyone can do it,” you said.

“And here I am not doing that.”

Spencer stared back into the depths of the water as he took another bite from his breakfast burrito. A bigger bite this time. You were honestly impressed. He probably took a bigger bite so he had more time to chew and less time to talk about his worries. A true genius.

You looked into the water yourself. The waves coming in reminded you of what one of your coworkers said to you once. You laughed to yourself which brought Spencer’s attention back to you.

“You know when I first told one of my coworkers I was transgender they asked if my transitioning period felt as if that one scene in Mulan where she looked at her reflection and knew she was supposed to reflect who she was inside and then decided to pretend to be a man to go into war on behalf of her father. I said not exactly and before I could explain to them why their analogy wasn’t really accurate, they hugged me and said they were proud I was able to reflect who I was inside on the outside,” you said.

“The lake reminded you of your coworker’s ignorance?” He questioned.

You chuckled. “No, it reminded me of that scene in Mulan and then that reminded me of my coworker’s ignorance. That being said though they did tell me how a lot of people they know are unsung heroes. I asked what they meant by that and they said unsung heroes are people who are trying their best but aren’t acknowledged or are overlooked by others or themselves.”

“Are you trying to say I’m a little harsh on myself?”

“Just a little.”

He looked back out into the lake again. You could see the wheels in his head turning as he thought about what you said. You continued to enjoy your breakfast sandwich as you let him ponder on your words. Usually it was the other way around and the words you were pondering were a bit more complex but you were nonetheless glad you could get him thinking.

By the time he looked at you, your burrito was nearly done. His whole time thinking he hadn’t taken another bite of his burrito. You didn’t know if you were happy he was about to talk to you about his insights or upset because he made a good breakfast burrito get cold.

“You don’t think I’m an unsung hero do you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Of course not. I think you’re just a hero who wants to save the whole world at once but can barely finish a breakfast burrito.”

He chuckled. “This thing’s huge.”

“And so is the world but just like your bites, you have to solve issues within it in small nibbles,” you joked.

He laughed as he took another bite out of it. He tried to chew it with a smile on his face but you knew he hated the fact it was cold. You laughed at him as he swallowed the remains of his bite. He carefully wrapped his half-eaten burrito before looking at you with a wide smile. You were glad to see him smiling again and the doubt lifted from his face.

“I think you’re right,” he said.

“You think I’m right? Say that I’m right again and you might just have to hand over your Ph.D. to me,” you joked.

He chuckled. “Which one?”

You both laughed. When Spencer made a joke, it was definitely one for the books. However, when he made a good joke it was one for the history books. You believed the longer you two are together the better his humour could become.

“All jokes aside, I want to spend my free time volunteering with homeless youths with you,” he said.

You looked at him surprised but a smile soon appeared on your face. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He looked at you with those big, beautiful brown eyes of his filled with hope. You nodded your head.

“I would love for you to volunteer with me. I think the kids would love learning a thing or two from you,” you said.

“Teach?” You said.

“Yeah. Every Friday we teach youths a different arrangement of skills that will help them in life. It’s a great sight seeing them have hope in their eyes again. I first started with counselling transgender youths in the program and have branched out to other members of the LGBTQ2S+. I now help homeless youths who have been victims of physical abuse. It’s definitely hard stuff to hear but seeing their faces when they know they’re being helped through their problems is the biggest reward I could ever ask for.”

Throughout your whole speech you could see tears at the brim of Spencer’s eyes. He tried to wipe his eyes before any tears could fall out but you already knew you had touched his soft spot. He smiled brightly at you before letting out a soft chuckle.

“I hope they like physics,” he said.

You laughed. “Taught the Dr. Spencer Reid way, I think they will have a new appreciation of the science.”

You both broke out into laughter again. You broke the laughter by kissing him on the lips. You could never get over how happy he looked every time you kissed him.

“I love you, Spencer,” you said.

He grinned. “I love you too, Y/N.”

“How about we get you some real breakfast and head back to my place for lunch?” You said.

You stood up on the rock and placed your hand out for Spencer to use to get up. He gladly grabbed onto it as you hoisted him up. For someone with a Ph.D. in physics you would think that he would have a better sense of how to balance. It was just another cute quirk of his you loved.

“Some real breakfast?” He questioned.

“Yeah, your coffee with a “little” sugar,” you said.

“Ah, my real breakfast. So what’s going to be for lunch?” He asked.

You grabbed his hand to hold as you two walked through the park. You smirked at him as you looked him up and down. He blushed as he let you examine him from head to toe.

“Your encyclopedia’s of course,” you said.

“Wait, what? Why my encyclopedia’s?” He asked.

“Ah-ha, so there are more than one in your bag,” you said.

He sighed. “Was this your way of making me confess that you’re right again?”

“Yes.”

“So there’s no lunch?”

“You’re lunch.”

“Ah, I see you’re on a diet then.”

“You know what? I love that my humour’s rubbing off on you so well.”

“I think it’s a sign we belong in each other’s life for a long time to come.”

You laughed. “I’m not the romantic type but I have to agree.

“So how come I’ve told all my friends from work you’re the most romantic person I know?”

“Oh? I guess I’ll show you how romantic I can be during lunch.”

—���

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection, @slutforthegubes, @pinkdiamond1016, @spencerreidsthings, @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @slutforsr @bxtchboy69, @fallinallinmendes @haihappen5 @mgg-theprettiestboy @siltuz-png @ptrs-prkrs @tclaerh @agentadhd @alexmarie29 @closetedreidstan @mac99martin @blxckhearthood @jesspavlik0vsky @katexrichardson @keniaasf @reidbuck @corishirogane3 @thegoddamncrazycatlady @keniaasf @pastelbabygirl19 @shadybagelsludgecolor @bootycrackraisinjuice @vintagebeauty1496 @bluerose512​ @laneybobeczko-g​ @averyhotchner​ @littlewierdalien @cynbx @mggsprettygirl​

[douxspider]

— 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. (2)

‘ARVIN RUSSELL x READER INSERT’

( spoilers for “the devil all the time” ) —  After befriending the bloodied blue-capped boy in the cafe Reader works at, a friendship blossoms between the two. However, unfortunate circumstances occur, and no one’s really sure how to feel about anything anymore.

+ this is the second part to peachy keen! (ao3 link)

warnings: implied/referenced suicide, hurt/comfort, grieving word count: 3,575 published: 9/21/20 ao3 link — part 1, 3

— — • — —

“Ellie, sweetie, don’t touch that.”

You were working behind the counter, rubbing raw dough and flour off on your apron, rushing around the shop to tend to the various customers. While specializing in baked treats, you were the main mistress, while Marilyn focused on baking and cooking up breakfast and lunch for eager customers.

Elaine Beck, a sweet girl of eight years, had recently been fostered by Marilyn. Marilyn, when not focusing on Elaine’s schoolwork, would bring her to the shop to watch over her.

You loved children, dearly, but it was difficult having a sweet-obsessed child in a bakery where the goods could easily be yanked. You find yourself aging more and more every time you told Elaine to keep her hands to herself.

Eyeing the clock, you rolled your bottom lip with your teeth, staring out the window before Marilyn caught your attention, pulling out crepes for a frequent suit-clad visitor. “Time goes slower when you’re staring at the hands, sweetpea.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, shaking your head as you organized dollar bills into the register. “I didn’t mean to seem like I’m impatient for my lunch off… I’m just…”

A hand caressed your shoulder, and Marilyn pulled you in to kiss your head, you groaning shortly after and wiping the back of your wrist against your forehead. “Mary! Your red lipstick never gets off!”

Marilyn gave a hearty laugh, ruffling your done-up hair. “Y’er a sweet thing, sunshine. He’s gonna be here, and you two are gonna have fun on your lil’ church date.”

“It’s not a date,” you emphasized, crouching to pull out the baked muffins, “No one goes to church for a date. I asked to come with to hear about that strange preacher.”

The older woman placed a hot coffee in front of a woman, who doused it in sugar, returning to you with a conflicted expression. “Well, I don’t want you stirrin’ up trouble, sweetpea. You’re important around here. You’re important to me.” She smiled at you, hazel eyes shiny with worry. “Don’t want you getting involved in shady business ‘cause of some boy…”

You stared at her, cocking your head idly towards the back, and she sighed and you both made your way there. “What’s your problem with Russell?” You could not imagine Arvin having bad intentions for you. It had been about a month or so since he had come in that rainy afternoon, and since then being in Ohio hasn’t seemed that bad. He had made no moves or adjustments towards you that were defined as uncomfortable.

“Nothin’, nothin’, he’s a sweet boy. Conflicted, but sweet,” she continued, “Y’ain’t wanna be caught up with those who be unsure of themselves…” Marilyn trailed off, wiping her hands with a cloth that had pies stitched onto it, “Goin’ to church ain’t like you, darling, I don’t want you to be changin’ yourself. You’re good just the way you are and don’t let no fool of a man or lass tell ‘ya otherwise. If this boy makes you happy—”

Interrupting, you said, “It has nothing to do with… with romantics, ma’am. I want to have faith,” you mumbled as you turned away from her, pretending to be busy with cleaning silverware. “I want to believe. I want to have a friend.”

Silence fell, and Marilyn gave you a smile with the fruit red lips of hers. “M’kay, darling. You won me over.”

Grinning at her, the bell jingled, and you peered over to see Arvin walking in, tipping a hat to Elaine, who was bouncing in her booth and talking to him excitedly.

Marilyn moved forward, and you leaned back, holding your hands up. “No kisses.”

She sighed, amused, and gave you a bear hug instead.

You pulled your apron off and hung it up before exiting the backroom and curving around the corner, smiling at Arvin, who met your eye and returned the gesture.

“Nice to see ‘ya on this beautiful Sunday,” you spoke up, swiping the sleeves of your dress.

Arvin’s expression softened, and he moved his hand up to your forehead, catching you by surprise. His thumb rolled over your forehead, wiping at it twice before raising his eyebrows, “I’m guessing sweet ol’ Marilyn McCann didn’t let’cha go without a cherrybomb kiss of hers.” He revealed the red stain on his thumb, and you whipped your head back to see Marilyn giving a knowing smirk at you before fixing up dishes. You looked back to him.

“Thank you for that… I would’ve been so embarrassed walking into a church with that on my face,” you sighed.

“Not a problem.”

“Don’t be gone too long, sissy!” You both looked over to see Elaine pouting at you, “I wan’ my icecream. You promised.”

“I did. I will do just that for you, baby,” you said, poking her nose. “If Mary says you behaved, you’ll get an extra scoop with any topping you want. How’s that?”

“Good!”

Exiting the premises, him holding the door open for you politely. Thanking him under your breath, you walked down the sidewalk towards his car.

“New dress?” He gestured to your fit and you looked down at it before smiling.

“Indeed. You give me such hefty tips,” you pointed out, bumping your shoulder with his, his ears turning pinker while avoiding eye contact with you purposefully. “I also needed to dress nice for church.”

Arvin rubbed the back of his neck as he opened the front door for you. “Well, I don’t really want much. Mind as well give the favor onto someone else.”

Once you both settled into the car, Arvin opened with another conversation. “How’s lil’ Elaine holding up? She seemed chipper than ever in there.”

The car started, and you pondered about the sweet girl. She was only fostered because both of her parents managed to go missing, dropping the young thing at Marilyn’s to be babysat and vanishing. “I don’t know. She hardly ever mentions her parents. I don’t think she remembers them at all, she calls me ‘sissy’ and Mary ‘mama.’ I don’t even live with them.”

“You seem to be the kinda sis that spoils,” Arvin pointed out with a grin, causing a feigned offended gasp from you. “Two scoops of icecream for such a tiny thing? She’ll explode. Poor girl.”

You shrugged. “Keeps her little fingers out of the pies.”

The radio played a sweet Paul Anka song, Puppy Love. You swayed to the beat very slightly.

—You'll be back (you'll be back)... 

“So uh… why church, Y/N?”

...in my arms (in my arms)...

Glancing at him, you shrugged. “Why not? I want to see what the rage about that preacher is about.” Arvin winced at this.

Once again...

Arvin licked his lips very slightly, eyeing the rearview mirror before returning his eyes to the road. “Y’told me you’re no girl of faith. No loony preacher is worth that.”

Someone help me, help me please. Is the answer, is it up above?

“I also said I’d do it if God brought me something good,” you pointed out, leaning towards him with a finger up. You then leaned your shoulder against the door, staring out the window, saying carefully, “And he did. I keep my promises.”

How can I, oh how can I ever tell them?

“This is not a puppy love…” you sang under your breath, turning your head to look at Arvin, whose glance quickly skewed back to the road. “Do you like this song?” You asked.

Arvin shrugged, quirking his lips up. “I uh… I’m not really a music guy.”

You blinked, raising your eyebrows. “Not a music guy? Hm, that’s fair.”

“Can’t really relate with all they sing about,” Arvin explained, “usually ‘bout God or a lover leavin’ them. Not my interest.”

Now, some backstory. You wouldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“Are you implying the one and only Arvin Russell has never had an inamorata?” You grinned, placing your cheek against your palm.

Arvin rolled his eyes. “Nah, don’t be actin’ like that, Y/N.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a ‘I’ve been too busy carin’ for my family to even think about messin’ around with a pretty face,’” he corrected, tilting his head at you. “That’s all.”

You felt yourself grow concerned and conflicted instead of amused. Biting the inside of your cheek, you don’t know if this man had any hobbies that didn’t include beating up assholes that hurt his poor sister. You scratched at the nape of your neck before deciding to speak up, plopping your hand in your lap. “Arvin, is there anything you’ve done just for fun and not just because your family compelled you to? Anything for yourself?”

Arvin looked at you, his eyes round, tightening his grip on the wheel. “I’ve… ah…” he pondered before his face turned more red, and you started to wonder what exactly was going on in his head. Was it something… illegal? Or shameful in the eyes of the town’s Lord? “...I go to the bakery to see you. For myself.”

...Well. You pinched your dress, clenching your teeth together and looking at the road.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, if— if you are, I just—”

“You were the good thing God gave me,” you spoke up suddenly, squeezing your eyes shut, “That’s why I’m going to church. You… you’re the good thing that makes me want to have faith,” you explained, catching him from the corner of his eye, seeing a distant look on his face.

You gave a laugh and half-heartedly shrugged your shoulders. “Now we evened each other’s uncomfortable comments out,” you playfully spoke. “So… no worries.”

Arvin pulled into a long yard while the car slowed into a long drawl. With this, he looked at you, and gave a smile that showed his white teeth.

“I think you’re a funny girl, Y/N.”

—

The preaching was over, and everyone was left outside, mostly indulging in conversation. It was a nice day out— sunny, clouds dotting the skyline, a sweet breeze to ease the baring sun. You were currently trapped in a conversation with a rather old lady who was very prominent in getting to know the citygirl.

You mentioned Manhattan and purposefully avoided your roots regarding wealth and your orphan status. Luckily, you didn’t need to speak much, the lady named Darla was more than eager to give her thoughts on everything.

“The new pastor, Teagardin, he’s a sweet man ain’t he?” She smiled, wringing her hands together, “If I were younger…”

You paled at the implication, giving a nervous smile. “He seems like a sweet man.”

“I’d sure hope so.” You turned around to see Preston Teagardin approach you with a smile. “How do you do, miss? Haven’t seen you here before.”

You nodded. “It’s my first time going to this church.”

Preston tilted his head only slightly. “Is that so? Can I catch your name?”

“Y/N.”

He licked his lips, looking at the old lady and raising his brows to give a friendly, polite expression. “Y/N, ain’t that a pretty name, Darla?” Darla nodded. “Well, Y/N, I wanna see you around here more often. Having a fresh face other than mine in this church is sure nice.”

“Regardless of my city heritage?” You decided to tease. While the comment was meant to be lighthearted, a growing resentment was laced behind your words, exhausted from the odd treatment from townspeople.

Preston gave a small laugh underneath his breath. “Nothin’ wrong with being born urban.” He looked at you, and you heard your name. Glancing to your side, Arvin was approaching, a ginger girl at his side.

The ginger girl made eye contact with Preston, and she quickly shied away from it. You paid it no mind, but it was definitely something that would become relevant later on, you’re sure. 

“This is my sister, Lenora,” Arvin spoke up, and you watched his eyes lock onto the priest’s for a moment. Preston walked away.

Lenora looked at you and gave a simper. “Hi, Y/N. Arvin’s talked about you…”

Arvin pursed his lips. “Lenora—”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, amused at the sister-brother banter. “He’s mentioned you before Lenora. I hear you like to read, care to give me a checklist of books sometime?”

Lenora lit up. “That… yeah, I can do just that. Right when I get home, I will.”

You smiled. Arvin cleared his throat, placing his hands in his pockets as he spoke to his sister, “Lenora, why don’t you check on grandma?” Lenora scurried off. When the two of you were alone, Arvin then murmured to you, “Y’don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t want to, Y/N. I know Lenora ain’t the most bright in the bunch, but—”

“I’ve been where she was,” you murmured to him, watching his gaze slowly fall from Lenora’s retreating figure to yours, brown eyes suffused golden beneath the luminous sun. “It’s all right. I actually do like reading, Arvin.” Arvin’s lips moved to the side of his face. Taking in his features, you felt your heart race a bit at what you were contemplating on doing, but you did it regardless. Your hand moved from your side to bury your fingers in his hair, grinning while feeling the slick strands against your skin. “It’s weird seeing you without that hat on.”

Arvin slumped a bit, attempting to swat your hand away. “Alright, alright, I get it,” he sighed. Though, from the look on his face, he was heavily entertained. “I know. I’ll put the cap back on.”

“No,” you spoke up. Your hand survived Arvin’s waving and ruffled the hair, loose strands cascading the frame of his face. “I like it.”

The boy you were endlessly teasing gawked at you while a bashful expression crossed his features. He sucked on his tongue before murmuring, “...That’s… ah, thank you.”

Glancing at your clock, your eyebrows raised. “I have to go. Lunch break is over… was over two minutes ago.”

Arvin gave a sheepish curve of his lips. “I’ll drive ‘ya home.”

The drive back was lighter than the drive there, until the new priest was mentioned. “Y’don’t trust that preacher guy, do you?” Arvin’s voice was bitter.

“...He seems…” you started, wincing, “I’m not sure. He’s a confident man, I’ll say that. I don’t know much about him to make a judgement.”

Arvin stopped the car in front of the diner. It was abrupt, sudden, and it took you by surprise. Your eyes traveled over to your friend who seemed to be seething underneath his skin. “Arvin?” You asked quietly.

A few glances towards you and he finally decided to face you with a lack of a smile. “S’all fine. You’re late, go do your work.”

Unable to correlate words with your sudden concern over his state of mind, you didn’t bother to acknowledge anything. “Okay…” you murmured, stepping out of the car, giving a wave to Arvin who only nodded his head towards you and drove off.

You watched his car vanish into the distance of the town. Wind blew past you, petting at your bare shins, and you rubbed your upper arm before hearing muffled crashing within the shop and a very harsh command of ‘Ellie!”.

—

The day Lenora died was quiet.

People weren’t rushing to the church, rushing to the Russell household, rushing down the streets, no one was rushing anywhere. It was a quiet day. The streets were more bare than usual, but perhaps it was only a lazy Sunday where nothing really mattered aside from church, the one day Lenora had not gone.

Watching her body fade into the ground wrapped snug in a casket, you felt the paper in your dress shuffle with the wind, scribbles of book titles Lenora suggested you before her untimely death.

Brave enough to glance in Arvin’s direction, too shy to cock your head, you noticed his mouth fit into a tight line, eyes swollen but with no sign of tears. It seems like he has already cried his fair share. Grandma Emma was weeping, her shoulders shaking as her brother held them.

The sun had gone dark, and you sat on a bench with Arvin, who had shared little to no words with you the entire day. Cars would woosh past and it seemed like the entire world was rotating just the same without the dear, sweet step-sister of Russell. The story had been tense, a little too much for you, the superstition that she was pregnant with the priest’s baby and had been encouraged to take it out, even at the cost of her life.

You gave a shaky exhale while the night’s frozen air pricked at your bare skin.

“You don’t need to be with me, Y/N,” Arvin’s accent-heavy voice murmured from the right of you, “I’m alright.”

That’s a load of bullshit. You knew that. You knew nothing about this was okay. You’d heard about Arvin’s parents before, you didn’t need anything more to know that this was opening some deep wounds the boy had thought he had stitched closed a long time ago.

“No, you’re not,” you replied.

There was nothing said after that. Arvin didn’t even look at you with an incredulous expression or open his mouth to disagree. There was no movement, no anything, as the world continued to turn, the stars continuing to move above the two of you.

It seemed unfair. It was unfair that the world kept moving.

You pulled out the list of books she had recommended you. Her handwriting was surely girlish, curly with hearts for dots, but it was perfect for her type of character. Lenora was a good girl. You felt your thumb trail against the ink stains. You didn’t know her too well, you’d be exaggerating your pain if you said this was the worst thing to happen to you, but it was definitely a loss on the town’s behalf, and most importantly, Arvin’s behalf.

“She was lonely.” Looking over, you saw Arvin staring down at your lap where the somewhat crinkled paper was.  “She never defied her faith, Y/N. She was just lonely.”

Her fidelity was admirable. Some part of you knew Arvin wasn’t talking to you, though, more so at. You gave a nod at him, his sad eyes meeting up with yours, and you knew at that moment his heart had been broken into a million pieces. You heard him sniffle and the street lamps reflected the water building at the top of his lower eyelids. He moved his bruised knuckles underneath his nose and you were a witness to his throat closing on itself.

This wasn’t bold. This was a peace offering. You moved to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to you in a hug.

Arvin was frozen still, tense underneath your hold, halting in his breath. You didn’t care if you were breaking boundaries. You didn’t care if this was something he said he didn’t need. You needed it, too, you needed to see him recover.

Unbeknownst to you, he would actually consider all the little possibilities with this hug. His arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face against the crook of your neck. You could hear quiet struggling exhales and wetness seeping into your dress. You didn’t care for the dress.

This wasn’t a grown man crying, you noticed. This was a little boy. The way he squeezed against you, lightly rubbing his nose against your skin and giving off quiet whimpers of defeat. The world had wronged him too much. You didn’t know everything, but it felt like the tears falling from his face had infinite knowledge that you didn’t need to be told. This wasn’t the first tragedy for Arvin. For him, he most likely believed it was just another dot on the list of infinite sadness.

“Arvin,” you were quiet to say, “come to my place. It’s quiet. Let me drive.”

Arvin had no disagreements. He was in no mindset to put on his tough façade. You drove the two of you to your apartment, never leaving Arvin’s side as you both stepped up the stairs and unlocked the door.

You didn’t really know what to do from there. You both watched television on your cheap furniture, and as the night went on and mindless conversations passed between the both of you, Arvin had gotten closer. His eyes were sore and at the most random moments you could see a tear roll down his cheek. He gave no reaction to it.

“I’m tired,” Arvin breathed from beside you.

You stared at the television while leaning against the couch’s arm. “That’s fine. I can show you to my room, if you’d like to lay on the bed—”

A presence was prominent beside you. You felt Arvin lean against you and rest his head on your shoulder. “The couch is fine,” he whispered. “This is fine.”

In any other circumstance, you know Arvin would’ve never put you in this position. Though, you didn’t mind this, not at all, keeping in mind you knew he just needed a comforting presence after Lenora. You were more than eager to be his anchor however.

Moving your hand up to his capless head, finding your fingers carding through his smooth hair, you continued to watch the television in silence. This is fine, you repeated in your head. It’s going to be fine.

[upthenorthmountain]

Thaw - Part 2

This is another thing I found in my Google Drive half-written, and managed to finish it up. It’s a sequel to Thaw so if you haven’t read that you should read it first. Thank you to @karis-the-fangirl as always x

Thaw - Part 2

“Mother, there’s a man!”

Anna carefully finishes the last flourish on a flower, and starts the next. “If it’s Mr Olsen, tell him he’ll have it this afternoon,” she calls back through to the front of the shop.

“It’s not Mr Olsen,” Greta says, leaning on the doorway into the workshop. “It’s a man in uniform. He asked for you.”

“Uniform?”

“I think.”

Anna puts down her brush and wipes her hands on her apron. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“No.” 

She doesn’t know the man, has never seen him before, but his appearance stops her in the doorway for a moment. He wears green, with the symbol of the crocus. Greta didn’t recognise it but there was no reason why she would.

“Can I help you?” she says to him, walking forward.

“Mrs Bjorgman? Mrs Anna Bjorgman?”

“Yes. You’ve come from Arendelle.” The word sounds strange on her tongue. Nearly twenty years since they left. Where does the time go?

“Yes, ma’am. The Prince Consort has sent us to fetch you.”

“Not the Queen?” As she says it she knows what he will say.

“The Queen is unwell, ma’am, and the Prince thought you might wish to see her, before...”

“You don’t have to call me ma’am,” Anna says, but her mind is already spinning. She hasn’t finished painting the table for Mr Larsen, but her son Nils can do it, no one will notice the difference. Mrs Andersen will help with the children. She hasn’t quite finished sewing the hem on her new dress but it will do. “Greta, go find your father, please. Quickly.”

-----

Anna remembers it as a two day journey from Arendelle but after leaving home at sun-up they arrive at the castle well before dusk. The road has been improved in the intervening years and the carriage wheels roll smoothly - the horses of the Royal Guard, also, lift their hooves much more swiftly than dear old Sven ever did.

They’ve sent a coach, just for her, with two white horses and a driver and two guards, and they keep calling her ma’am so after a while she lets them and tries to remember what she knows about Elsa’s new family. The Prince Consort is a Prince Gustav, she knows that, but for the life of her she can’t remember where he’s from. Somewhere advantageous, she’s sure. And there is a boy and a girl, an heir and a spare. Elsa always took her responsibilities very seriously.

Of course she had thought of her sister a great deal. More at first; when she and her husband had remained in Arendelle those first few months, with everyone watching them and talking behind their hands. Less after they had left for a new start somewhere else. Kristoff had talked himself into an apprenticeship with a carpenter - Mr Andersen’s last apprentice had run off to sea just short of completing his training, and he grudgingly agreed that a man with a family to support might be a little steadier and inclined to work hard to prove his worth - and Anna’s painting, that had been indulged in the castle as a hobby suitable for a noblewoman, was suddenly a useful skill.

No one knew where they were from. Not explicitly. Perhaps there were a few rumours, but it didn’t take many miles for the grand scandal in Arendelle to have faded away to nothing. The other women in the town quickly deduced that Anna was of noble birth and had married beneath her and had no idea how to run a home. Most were kind but a few were not and sometimes at the market she could hear them talking about her behind their hands. She thinks love is all you need but she’ll soon find it’s not that easy. A home and family is hard work. She’s got a lot to learn.

They were right, she had a lot to learn; a lot to learn, and she learnt it all. She learnt how to cook dinner, and then she learnt how to cook dinner holding a baby, or with a toddler pulling at her skirts. She learnt how easily everything got dirty and how to clean it. She learnt how hard you can pray over an ill child in the dark corners of the night, and she learnt how that same child can drive you to distraction when recovered two days later.

She cleaned and she mended and she cooked, and she painted crockery and tables and chairs and shelves, often with a baby next to her in a basket or a child playing at her feet. No one was going to be able to say she couldn’t take care of her family. No one was going to call her a bad wife, a bad mother. She was going to build this life for herself.

Mr Andersen had retired, officially, five years ago. The sign on the front of the workshop had been repainted - Bjorgman Family Carpentry and Coachworks - but Mr Andersen still comes by every day to sit in his corner and drink the coffee Anna makes him and talks to the children. Mrs Andersen stops by to fetch him home for his dinner, and she always comes nice and early to make sure she has time to sit for a while herself. The children adore them both and they are family, now. You can find family, and you can make it. That has been the best thing Anna has learnt, by far.

-----

Anna worries, on the journey back to Arendelle, that someone will insist she stays in her old bedroom, but when she arrives the housekeeper - a new one, a woman younger than herself that Anna doesn’t know - immediately apologises and says that won’t be possible. 

“That is now Princess Ulrika’s room,” she says, “But we have another prepared for you.”

“Can I see my sister today? The Queen, may I see her?”

The housekeeper shakes her head. “I’m sorry. She’s asleep. She doesn’t wake often, these days, but I’m sure you’ll have a chance to speak to her.”

-----

It’s nearly a week before she does. Her sister is iller than Anna had imagined. It is so strange, to be back in the castle, to be alone and occupation-less, wandering the halls by herself. So much is the same, but so much has changed. A few pictures have been rearranged. Some rooms have different purposes. But then she’ll turn a corner and everything will be so exactly as it always was that it sends a shiver down her spine and she has to remind herself firmly of her husband and children, waiting for her; her friends and work back home. She isn’t that girl any more and soon she’ll go back to her real life.

Maybe she’d just buried her childhood, buried it under layers of paint and dishes and kisses and laundry. With all that lifted away, there was still a raw place that hurt when prodded, and the strangest things would set it off. The smell of the sheets on her bed - they must still use the same kind of soap. The smooth wood of the handrail on the stairs - at home no one has time to polish a handrail to a shine. The shape of the light through the diamond-shaped panes. 

Prince Gustav is a pleasant man, and under normal circumstances Anna thinks she would like him very much. Ulrika and Henrik are delightful children, though of course somewhat subdued. Ulrika sees Anna drawing one afternoon and begs her to draw her portrait, which she does, and she is then obliged to draw Henrik and Gustav and Ulrika’s pet cat, as well as copy the sketches of her own children that she had brought with her. Elsa’s children are fascinated by the thought of their cousins and Anna has to tell all about them and promise she will pass on any letters they want her to take back.

Her niece and nephew are clearly close, and are often together, talking or reading or sometimes playing, although they are a little old for games. It makes Anna glad, especially as she knows that they will soon lose their mother. They have each other, as well as their father, just as her own children will have each other through whatever life will bring them. This too is healing. 

-----

Finally, late morning on the sixth day of her visit, a nurse finds Anna and leads her to her sister’s bedroom. Elsa is lying in her centre of the large bed, propped up slightly on some cushions. She’s pale - but she was always pale, wasn’t she? - and although Anna knows of course that twenty years have passed and she herself has aged, it’s still a shock to see the faint lines on her sister’s face. 

“She might not know you,” the nurse says quietly. “This is the most lucid she’s been for days, but - she doesn’t have long now.”

Anna nods, and approaches the bed. Elsa moves her head slightly, and turns her ice-blue eyes to her sister. They can still make Anna flinch. As soon as I came back here I became a child again, she thinks. Straight after this I will leave. Or tomorrow, at any rate. I can’t stand it.

Elsa says nothing, but her gaze is even and clear. Anna feels herself start to quail, and then she remembers - you have no power over me now. There is nothing Elsa has that Anna wants. There is nothing Anna wants that Elsa has the power to deny her. I wish we could have met a year ago, when you were well, as adults, Anna thinks. I wonder what that would have been like. But it’s too late, now. Too late for a lot of things. The years have passed - but Anna feels like she made good use of them. The best use she could have done. She hopes, here and now, that Elsa feels the same way about her own life. That is all she wants for her sister.

-----

Anna doesn’t stay for the funeral. All the fuss and bother, all the pageantry, all the people wanting to catch a glimpse of her - she doesn’t need it. Let Arendelle say goodbye to its queen how it pleases. Anna takes her seat on the mail coach home and ponders her sister’s final words.

“Anna,” she’d said, at the last. “Anna, I need to say something to you.”

“It’s alright, Elsa,” Anna had said, leaning over her sister, taking her hand. “It’s alright. I forgive you.”

And Elsa had looked at her, confused, not understanding.

And then, so softly, half to herself. “For what?”

[the-mandalorian-clone-lover]

Ok y’all, I have gathered enough nerve or something and here it is :D

This is kind of the description and then I’ll put the reference photos and the first part under the read more thingy.

Roman is a mob boss and is played by Ewan McGregor (he’s 100% a hopeless romantic and wants someone to cherish, when he finds that person he will literally do anything to keep them, not afraid of much), Erica (She wants to be loved despite her Asexuality, she is afraid it’s impossible, and she isn’t willing to do much to make it happen because she’s convinced it’s impossible) is his girlfriend. Butcher is basically Kronk from the Emperor’s new groove (because he’s enormous and adorable and I love him).

Second part here

Ok so top is Butcher, he’s probably 6′5 in my mind or more? Probably has tattoos, I’ll leave that up to your imagination. Second is Roman (who is Ewan obvs but this is about the age I picture him). Third is Erica, I picture her between 26&28 and Roman 30 or 32, so there is an age gap but it isn’t more than 4-6 years. She’s 5′11 and Roman is 5′10, that’s a surprise tool that will help us later, and yeah I think that’s about it.  Story below :)

Oh– Warnings?: Talking about coming out, Erica yells a sentence or two but she’s frustrated, silly self-indulgence? Excessive tooth-rotting fluff

*************************

(The song he sings is Your Song from Moulin Rouge)

Roman’s been deep in thought in the back of the car the entire ride and Butch has finally had enough.

“Somethin’ going on boss?”

Roman sighs, “Erica texted that she wanted to talk to me instead of doing dinner tonight.” He pauses before evidently deciding to give Butch the whole story, looking at his feet as he does so. “I asked her at dinner two days ago if she wanted to be official and now, I’m wondering if it was too soon. Did I scare her off?” Roman’s eyes come back to Butch’s as he asks and for a moment he’s at a loss, thankfully Roman continues before he has to answer. “I know I tend to..” his eyes go to the window, eyes searching it as if it holds the right words “..do things a little old fashioned. Commit to each other, take care of each other, do people, not do that anymore?” He asks the question desperately and Butch ponders a moment before responding.

“Maybe not out there, but if anyone would want a little old fashioned, I think it’d be Ms. Erica.” They’ve been dating a month or so now, strictly dinner and walking in the park type dates, she had come to the pent house once, but only so Roman could give her a one month anniversary present; a necklace (it had been simple but elegant, Butch had helped pick it out).

Roman’s eyes make their way back to him, “What do you mean?”

Butch pauses, tilting his head and looking down before answering “She’s got an old soul, and she’s not the kind of woman you could get away with not treating her right.”

Roman had nodded his assent before opening his mouth but the stop of the car cuts him off.

Butch waits till they’re both out of the car before speaking again. “Do you want me to follow you up?”

It’s a matter of protocol, some days Butch sweeps the penthouse before Roman goes in, just to be sure, but at this moment Roman is pretty sure there could be snakes in his house and it wouldn’t be worse than the thought of Erica leaving him. Its early to be so attached, he knows this, but she’s so lovely and wonderful and one-of-a-kind that he hates to see her go so soon, when there’s so much he hasn’t gotten to say to her. He braces himself inwardly though, putting on a brave face for Butch.

“No, I’ll be alright, I’ll let you know if we decide to go for dinner after all.” He tries to smile but knows Butch sees right through it. Butch pulls him in by the shoulders for a hug before holding him at arms-length.

“Don’t go getting all mopey before she’s even talked to ya, maybe she’s already made dinner and that’s why.”

“It’s much too early for that, I hope she doesn’t think she has to—”

Butch is turning him and shoving him towards the door.

“Go on lover boy, face your music and don’t be a wimp!”

Roman drags himself up the stairs, feeling like a glutton for punishment at this moment, straightening himself up before opening the door. He almost regrets forgetting to knock before remembering this is his house and choosing instead to call out.

“Erica? Darling? I’m a little early, didn’t want to startle you.”

She appears in the entryway that leads to the living room, looking a little nervous herself.

“I-“ She takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving him “Thank you for having them let me in, what I wanted to talk to you about is a more personal matter.”

Well. That certainly didn’t sound like a precursor to a break-up.

“Of course” Roman responds, trying to sound as at-ease as possible. “Can I get you anything?” His eyes sweep her figure and upon realizing she’s abandoned her shoes he begins to toe off his own, leaving them next to hers in the doorway.

She’s shaking her head when he looks up. “No, thank you, I brought some cookies I made, they’re in here.” With that she turns back to the sitting room and begins to walk away. He hurries after her but tries to allow her space still. He takes the moment to look at her. She’d looked ill at ease in the foyer, a large OD green sweatshirt (that had probably seen better days) that said ‘Property of Middle Earth’ in worn white letters nearly swallowing her, hair down and falling in her face, she’d pushed it behind her ears twice as they walked. She’s wearing the black jeans she says are her favorites, everything seems to point to her dressing for comfort. She pushes the sweatshirt sleeves up to her elbows before sweeping the container off the coffee table and holding it out to him.

“I remember you said you liked macadamia nut, it’s my first time making them though.”

He nods, taking the box, also taking care to brush his fingers against hers as well as he can without raising suspicion. He takes off the lid, taking a deep breath before looking up to her in awe, “These smell amazing!” He smiles before looking down again, grabbing one to hold it out to her. “Share?”

She smiles thinly, shaking her head again, (Roman doesn’t think he’s ever seen her shake her head this much) before answering “No, I’m alright. Not very hungry anyway.”

Erica knows its not a convincing answer but what can she say? She’s been dreading this conversation ever since she started having feelings for Roman and when he had asked her to think about being officially together, she’d known she couldn’t put it off any longer. She looks at the floor again, remembering that she’s wearing her favorite sweatshirt and that if anyone from Middle Earth were here they’d be encouraging her (maybe not Sauron but he wasn’t really the encouraging type) and probably giving her an awkward thumbs up from behind Roman’s couch. She smiles at the comforting thought and looks back up at him. No matter what his response was, she’d handle it. She’d come this far. She sits down (albeit a little rigidly) on the couch behind her, and Roman follows her lead, sitting in the chair diagonal from the coffee table.

She takes another deep breath, this is it. “I’m just going to come right out and say it—”

“Do you want to break up?”

Roman’s on the edge of his chair, gripping the container and looking at her with, fear? Dread? She isn’t sure but it isn’t a positive emotion that’s etched into his face. He’s not the only one.

“No,” she says it carefully, deliberately, before continuing past what she knows is the point of no return. “But you might”.

It feels like a bomb went off. Roman actually leans back in the chair before blinking rapidly, attempting to process. “Did–“ he supposes ‘cheating’ might be too strong a word if they’re actually not even together but he isn’t sure what else they would split over.

“It isn’t something I did. It’s something I am.” Erica is resisting the urge to cry now, it doesn’t matter how many times she talks about it, it doesn’t seem to get easier when you care what the other person responds with. She’s looking at the floor when she hears shuffling and feels the couch dip next to her. She looks over to find Roman seated on the far end, reaching slowly to hover a hand above her shoulder.

“Whatever it is, we’ll work through it. It’s not as if anything is irreconcilable.” He pauses and Erica really is bracing now, nearly wanting to get up and run from the room in preparation for the inevitable.

“Unless you’re actually an orc. Or you like eating hummus. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

He says it as if it were obvious and she smiles, shaking her head before breathing out shakily. “It’s, well, its neither of those things.” She says, finally looking him in the eye, reaching up to guide his hand down to her shoulder. If nothing else, she’ll enjoy these last few minutes of comfort he offers before it’s all over.

“I’m asexual.”

Its out. And while it does take a weight off her chest, she isn’t sure it’s gone for good.

Roman blinks, tilting his head, “Tell me what that means?”

It’s a request. Not a demand, he didn’t fill the air with his assumptions, he just asked. That’s a new one.

“Well, it um,” Erica takes another deep breath, reaching out to grab his other hand in both of hers and fastening her eyes to them before spitting out the rest in a rush, “It means I don’t experience sexual attraction.”

He’d already started stroking the fingers he could reach when she took his hand hostage and he doesn’t stop when she finishes. She doesn’t move though, she’s waiting for it to sink in. Either he’ll tell her to get out, tell her that that isn’t a thing, or that he can fix her. She’s already got a plan for all three.

“Ok.” He says it as if she’d just told him it was cloudy outside. “How do you want me to respond?”

She brings her eyes back to his slowly, mouth agape. She can’t even be bothered to close it either, somehow, he’s managed to say the one thing she never expected.

“How do I want you to respond?”

“Well, I know that I don’t know exactly what you need or want to hear, so I’m asking.” He says it all so gently, as if he were trying to comfort her, as if he could sense how hard it was to say this, could he? “I want to support you” he says with conviction, “Sometimes you might have to tell me how.”

His gentle tone never fades, if anything it only sounds more genuine as he continues, moving his hand to hover next to her cheek. She leans into it, sniffing softly and closing her eyes against the tears. It’s hardly the time to cry now. Gathering herself she opens her eyes.

“You need to understand sex is something I might not ever be able to give you.” As sweet as he is, she won’t let him commit to something if he doesn’t even understand what it means. “I’ve, had,–“ now her eyes are back in her lap, withdrawing her hands from his, “experiences, but, I didn’t like them. And since I don’t have the desire anyway, it’s possible I’ll be like this forever.” She’s painting it bleakly but what else is there to say? She’s never been supported by any partner or friend and she isn’t sure she’d even know how to handle it if she was. Part of her does want to break up with Roman now, end it all before he can, give herself control of the situation before it gets any more uncomfortable.

“Why do you say it as if you were broken?”

Shock. That’s what she’s feeling, bringing her eyes up to look at Roman as if he’d grown two heads. Opening and closing her mouth twice before finally blurting out

“Isn’t that what you think?” She’s standing now, words falling out of her mouth in a rush of fear and anger, “Isn’t that what everyone thinks?! Isn’t that what you’re supposed to say? That I can’t be anything other than a robot if I don’t want” she gestures fiercely “that!? As if I wasn’t a whole person without it?” Roman is standing now but she can’t stop “As if there was no way two people could be together without doing it??” Her voice has somehow been getting louder all through her rant and everything’s getting blurry as the tears start “As if I were making the whole thing up?” He’s closer now, and she stumbles back, yelling a final, “AS IF I WASN’T A REAL PERSON BECAUSE OF IT??” before she collapses into his arms. She’s sobbing in earnest now, gripping onto him as tightly as she can. This has never happened. Every other time she’s always handled the rejection, the teasing, the downright harassment before calmly leaving and never coming back but, somehow, it’s Roman being kind to her that finally causes her to break. All the frustration, hurt and confusion finally pouring out in her tears. He’s just stroking her back with one hand, the other cradling her head against his shoulder. Between the sobs she can hear his voice, but he doesn’t seem to be saying much other than ‘its alright’ and telling her to let it out, saying that he’s here and he’s not leaving. It helps.

When the sobs subside to hiccups she wraps her arms a little tighter around him and takes a breath before sniffing.

“Can I have a tissue?” She says it as softly as she can, she doesn’t really want him to leave but she’s starting to worry for whoever does the wash. He seems to pick up on her reluctance to separate, instead taking the arm from her back to reach behind and down for the box on the coffee table. He fumbles in the awkward position for a moment, causing them both to huff in good humor before standing straight and holding it up by her face. She takes it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all those things to you.”

She mumbles it without ever moving, choosing to reach over his shoulder to wipe her face, if he’s willing to keep holding her, she isn’t going to make him stop.

He goes back to petting her hair softly, answering in the same tone, careful to keep his voice low. “Don’t apologize. If someone said those horrible things to me, I’d be upset too.”

She sighs quietly. He must not understand still.

“But everyone thinks they’re true. That’s the problem.” She says it matter-of-factly, her arms loosening a bit to rest on his shoulder blades before he suddenly grips her tighter.

“Not everyone.”

It’s a small thing, and it shouldn’t mean anything to her, but it does. It means the whole world.

They stand there holding each other for heaven only knows how long, Erica not wanting to leave the comforting embrace that Roman is offering, and Roman content to hold her as long as she needs.

More time passes before she hears him humming, well she feels it first but then she hears the soft notes next to her ear and feels him shifting back and forth slowly. Swaying them both. Then he’s singing to her. Quietly, barely above a whisper but his voice is like honey.

“My gift is my song, and this one’s for you” he nuzzles his cheek on the side of her head before going on, still whispering gently to her and swaying softly “and you can tell everybody, this is your song. It may be quite simple but, now that it’s done. I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words,” he gets a little louder then, more confident, “How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world.”

“Elton John?” She asks, voice still a little wobbly, only slightly teasing.

“No, well, yes, but I was thinking of Moulin Rouge.”

She frowns, slowing their swaying slightly, “I thought Elton John wrote that?”

She hears a small ‘ah’ followed by “Moulin Rouge is a film, have you not seen it?”

She shakes her head against his, muttering a ‘huh uh’

“Hmm, well, then let me finish serenading you and then we can watch it, how does that sound?”

She pulls away then, wanting to look him in the face even if she doesn’t necessarily want him to see hers. “You want to stay? With me?”

He nods, brushing his thumbs across where they’ve come to rest on her waist. “I’ll admit I don’t understand it all yet but I can learn. And if you promise to never start liking hummus then we seem to have an agreement.” He finishes with a smile and somehow Erica finds herself smiling with him. Somehow, she has hope again.

“I think I can promise that.” She says, taking another shaky breath in before muttering ‘eskimo kiss’ and leaning forward to brush her nose against his, he bumps their foreheads together and then they’re both giggling. He hasn’t ever kissed her lips yet but it’s moments like this that make her certain he’ll wait till she starts it.

****************************

[this-is-quite-homoerotic]

Fic: I'm holding tight cause it feels alright, my love, when I'm with you

Summary: After a long day at work, Jack and Ianto get to spend a lazy early night in.

Author’s note: I wrote this for the @torchwoodfanfests​ 2020 Bingo Fest, for the prompts ‘cold/warm’ and ‘vegetables’. The fic and my bingo card are under the cut, or if you prefer, you can read it on AO3 here!

This story was betaed by the lovely @moonlightrhosyn​, and the title is from 'When I'm With You' by Eleisha Eagle, an extremely Janto song that I recommend to anyone reading this.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1773

“Hey,” Jack was shaking his shoulder softly to wake him. Ianto groaned in protest. 

“Come on, sleeping beauty. You can go back to sleep after you’ve had something to eat. Don’t think I didn’t notice you skipping lunch.”

Ianto rolled over on the sofa where he’d fallen asleep to stretch himself awake. His spine cracked, and he relaxed back into the comfortable cushions.

“All of us missed lunch,” he protested. Jack was looking down at him with one of those warm smiles that made his eyes look soft, hands on his hips and head tilted as he took in the slightly red mark on Ianto’s cheek where the throw pillow had left an imprint. Ianto hadn’t bothered changing when they got home, he’d just taken off his jacket and his shoes and had gone straight for the sofa to nap while Jack cooked, since Jack had insisted on cooking dinner. 

Ianto had been ready to go to sleep for as long as the rift allowed, but Jack wanted to feed him before they turned in for their well-deserved rest - it had been a long 40 hours - and in order to get Ianto to agree he offered to make him some spaghetti bolognese. Damn that man for exploiting Ianto’s weaknesses. 

“Yes, we did,” Jack agreed as he reached for Ianto, who was still sprawled comfortably on the sofa, wrapped in his cosy black duvet with only his head and feet peeking out. Ianto grabbed the duvet and held it against him so Jack couldn’t pull it back. 

“But there’s no reason for us not to eat now,” Jack cajoled. He tried to pull the duvet gently away but Ianto was holding fast. 

“It’s cold,” Ianto complained, fully aware he sounded petulant. He pouted for good measure. He knew Jack’s weaknesses too, and he was not above using them to get what he wanted.

He could see the hit land when Jack’s face softened further. 

“You can bring your cocoon to the table if you want. Or I can warm you up...”

Jack’s suggestive eyebrows were exaggerated and ridiculous, and Ianto thought it probably said something about him that they ratcheted up his desire to kiss Jack by about 50% - a desire that was always already present in him to some extent these days, by the way. If Jack wasn’t so willing to receive and reciprocate Ianto’s kisses at any time and place, Ianto would bemoan the unfairness of it all. As it was, he really couldn’t complain.

And there was no reason not to indulge himself right now, Ianto thought.

He sat up, letting the duvet fall around him, reached up to grab a handful of Jack’s shirt and pulled on it to get him closer. Jack went with the movement, leaning down to let himself be kissed.

After letting him go, Ianto sighed in mock annoyance. “Fine,” he groused, pretending to be terribly put upon by having to agree to eat Jack’s delicious home-made pasta, which was also his favourite dish. “But I’m getting a sweater first. It really is freezing.”

“It’s not too cold in the kitchen,” Jack told him as Ianto grudgingly pulled the duvet all the way off and got up to go to his room. 

“Might as well change anyway,” Ianto mused, looking down at his rumpled shirt. It was already a mess from the weevil chase the previous night, not to mention their encounter and subsequent fight with the pair of blowfish that morning.

“Alright. I’ll set the table in the meantime. Don’t take too long, the food will get cold.”

Ianto nodded, and went to change.

***

Three and a half minutes later, Ianto walked into the kitchen wearing polar fleece pyjama bottoms, fuzzy slippers, and an old Star Wars t-shirt. He was carrying one of his favourite sweaters in one hand in case Jack had been wrong and the kitchen was cold, but Jack was happy to see he left it on the back of a chair as he sat down. The steam from the pots had warmed up the kitchen when he cooked, making the small room comfortably warm despite the winter chill outside.

“Hmm, that smells amazing,” Ianto commented, making Jack beam. He didn’t have time to cook very often, what with Torchwood being Torchwood, and he didn’t care to put in the work when it was just him anyway. It had been a while since he’d had someone to cook for, and he relished the opportunity.

Plus, Ianto had zero cooking skills or interest in acquiring any, and would happily live off takeaway if Jack let him.

He served them both a generous portion, aware they’d both been too busy to get more than a rushed breakfast and several servings of coffee for the past twelve hours. It wouldn’t matter for Jack, given his regenerative abilities, but he didn’t want Ianto’s immune system to suffer more than was absolutely necessary due to the demands of their job.

Jack saw Ianto made a face as he sat down, and he had to swallow a laugh, knowing exactly what was going to come out of Ianto’s mouth next.

“You put vegetables in my spaghetti bolognese,” Ianto deadpanned. “What is that?” he questioned, picking at the dish with his fork. “Broccoli? Jack, you heathen.”

Jack noticed it didn’t stop him from seasoning his plate or adding several spoonfuls of grated cheese to it.

“You need vegetables for a balanced diet,” Jack said with a grin. It was a topic they’d discussed many times. When it wasn’t Jack bringing it up by telling Ianto he needed them to stay healthy, it was Ianto complaining when Jack cooked for him and used ‘too many vegetables’. At this point it was more an inside joke than an actual complaint, though; Ianto had learned that Jack had the magical ability to make the dreaded vegetables taste good by seasoning them, so he didn’t actually mind. 

“It’s an affront to the dish,” Ianto countered, not meaning it whatsoever.

“Absolutely not, if anything, it elevates it. Besides, I roasted it in butter and garlic with the onions, you’ll like it. Trust me.”

Ianto took a big first bite with no hesitation, belying his complaints. 

He moaned shamelessly, utterly distracting Jack from his own plate for a moment.

“Alright, you were right. This is incredible.”

That made Jack grin again. 

They were too hungry and run-down from running from one crisis to another for the past two days, so they mostly ate in silence after that. 

Jack pondered getting a second serving despite being full, but decided against it. Ianto was drooping in his chair, looking like he might fall asleep over his empty plate, and truth be told Jack was feeling the exhaustion himself, despite his enhanced stamina. 

He sent Ianto to do his night routine and put the leftovers away, taking the time to wash the dishes so they wouldn’t be left in the sink if they got a work emergency and had to leave in a hurry. Who knew how long they might be away if that happened; they often stayed at the Hub when things were busy or if they were on call for the night. Thankfully, Tosh had agreed to be on call that night, diverting the rift alert to her phone in case anything showed up, so they wouldn’t have to be available until the next morning. 

An early night in where he could cook for Ianto and then go to sleep with him in the flat they unofficially shared had sounded divine to him. And it was. It was exactly what they needed to recharge.

Jack walked to the bathroom to find Ianto brushing his teeth with his eyes half-closed. He might fall asleep standing up if he didn’t go to bed soon. His hair was standing up where he’d ran his hand through it and his eyelids were losing the fight with his exhaustion and he looked sleep-soft and rumpled and all Jack wanted to do was walk him to bed and tuck him in, then slip in beside him and hold him through the night.

Jack took his own toothbrush from the glass and brushed his teeth next to him, his arm grazing against Ianto’s as they stood side by side, and Jack couldn’t help the rush of warmth and contentment at the wonderful domesticity of the moment. It had been years since he’d had a moment like this before Ianto. Glancing at the sleepy man on the counter mirror, he realised that possibly, he’d never had a moment like this before Ianto. 

Ianto knew everything about him. Not in the sense of knowing all the details; Jack had lived a long and eventful life, after all, and telling him everything would take more time than they had with their usually full schedule. But he knew all the key elements of what made Jack himself, all the painful secrets he had been forcibly, painfully made aware that he couldn’t trust people with, because they were the kind of thing that would alienate others, making them turn their backs on him, or because then they might be used against him.

(He’d been betrayed so many times.)

(You’d think he’d grow a thicker skin, that the sting of it would dull with time and experience. Not so.)

His thoughts were interrupted by Ianto finishing up and placing a kiss on his shoulder. 

“Come to bed soon,” he slurred sleepily, and just like that all of Jack’s other thoughts were banished, leaving only room for affection for this man.

“I will,” Jack answered after rinsing, and Ianto rewarded his words with a small warm smile before shuffling to the bedroom.

Jack realised he was smiling when he caught sight of his own reflection.

Ianto was already asleep when Jack joined him only a few minutes later. 

He slipped under the covers on what had become his side of the bed, scooting close to feel the warmth Ianto was radiating, and to his surprise Ianto stirred, the two of them rearranging themselves in effortless concert so that Ianto’s chest was pressed flush against Jack’s back, one arm thrown over his side to hold him close against his chest.

Jack felt Ianto’s breath on the back of his neck as he mumbled, “G’night”. Ianto’s feet brushed against his under the covers before stilling again.

“Good night,” Jack said softly, feeling cared for and safe and helplessly in love.

Warm and content as he was in Ianto’s arms, in one of the two beds they’d been sharing for the past several months, it didn’t take long for Jack to doze off.

[lightsupinthenorth]

Lend me your love

Read on AO3

Billy loves having his hair played with. When he was a child, his mother used to ruffle his hair in passing, or caress it when he was watching TV with his head on her lap. After she leaves, no one but himself or the occasional hairdresser touches his hair for a while. Not until Max comes along and wants to practice her braiding skills on Billy. He protests, at first, telling her to practice on herself instead of pestering him, but he ends up surrendering, as he has wanted to since she first asked.

 He would never admit to her that he likes it when she styles his hair, but he can at least admit it to himself. He’s not in denial. He doesn’t even care when she tries something extravagant that ends up making him looks stupid, because by the time she’s done he’s always relaxed and somewhat absent.

 -

 Once they move to Hawkins, Indiana, their relationship has deteriorated so much that Max never asks him to be her guinea pig anymore. As pathetic as it sounds, Billy’s pretty sad about it.

 In Hawkins, to appease Neil after what happened in California (that is to say, Neil finding Billy making out with a boy), Billy flirts with a lot of girls. He even takes some of them to bed. They don’t do much for him sexually, but sometimes, when he eats a girl out, her fingers grip his hair as she’s looking for something to hold onto. Billy likes that. He likes it so much that it nearly makes him stay afterwards, in the hope she will caress his curls as they lay in bed together. But Billy can’t do that. He doesn’t really want to, anyway: he’s just touch-starved.

 -

 After he finally grows some balls and apologizes to Steve for the fight at the Byers’, they become closer. Billy sometimes wishes he’d never apologized because, with him, Steve brings questions, questions about the bruises and scars adorning Billy’s body, questions that Billy always deflects.

 Steve also makes Billy want him even more than he used to before they started being friends. One day, during the summer, after Billy has had to sleep under the stars because of his father, Steve sees a leaf tangled in Billy’s curls and takes it off himself. For a second, Steve’s long fingers are in his hair and Billy nearly faints. Once they’re gone, far too soon, Billy wants them back more than anything, but it’s not like he can just ask for it. He’ll just have to make do with the reminiscence of that brief touch. It’s all he’ll ever have.

 -

 After Starcourt, Billy’s body is so messed up he can barely wash his hair on his own. Raising his arms hurts like a bitch. He tries to power through it, but he’s fed up after barely a week. He’s got to do something about it. He’s not happy, but he’s got no other choice.

 He goes to Steve, whom he now lives with, and hands a hair clipper.

 Steve takes it and looks back and forth from Billy to the clipper with his big Bambi eyes.

 “What are you giving me that for?”

 “I want you to shave my hair.”

 Billy would do it himself, but he’d better not take that thing anywhere near his head if he doesn’t want it to end in a catastrophe.

 Steve’s speechless for at least ten seconds, mouth agape.

 “What? But, why? I though you loved your dumb mullet.”

 Billy sighs. He doesn’t feel like explaining himself, but Steve probably won’t do what Billy asked if he doesn’t answer.

 “I can’t wash my hair properly ‘cause my arms are fucked up. It would be easier if I just had it shaved.”

 “But… but that’s… are you sure you won’t regret it?”

 Steve is now staring at the clipper as if it had personally offended him.

 “I don’t know… I don’t have much choice, anyway.” Billy shrugs.

 “Well… I could wash your hair for you, if you wanted…”

 Steve looks up at Billy tentatively, and then looks down almost immediately.

 Billy would say yes in a heartbeat if he didn’t already feel like a burden to Steve.

 “Thanks for the offer… but you’ve done enough for me as it is.”

 “I really wouldn’t mind, I swear… I don’t feel comfortable participating in the murder of your hair, to be honest.”

 Billy ponders Steve’s proposition a while longer, biting his lip, before finally accepting. Steve beams at him.

 “Great! Do you want them washed right now?”

 “Ugh… if you’re free. If not, whenever is fine.”

 “Now’s good.”

 Billy understands very quickly that he has not thought this through at all. As soon as they enter the bathroom, and Steve asks: “how do you want to do this?”, Billy knows he’s fucked.

 Filled with dread, he stares at their tiny shower.  

 “Don’t know…”

 “You can just stand in the shower and let me take care of the rest.” Steve said.

  “Should I… uh… take my clothes off or… ?”

 “Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

 Billy hesitated. He used to show off his body at every occasion and Steve has seen him naked countless times in the locker room after basketball practice when they were in high school. His body doesn’t exactly look the same as it did back then, however.

 Steve knows that, though. He’s seen Billy’s freakish scars already. He probably doesn’t care whether Billy’s body looks good or not. Steve is straight, after all. Plus, Billy doesn’t feel like dealing with his wet clothes after his shower, so he might as well undress. It’s going to be fine. At least, he probably won’t get hard in front of Steve, which might be the only benefit from his meds killing his libido.

 His yearning is still as strong as ever though, so Billy is far from safe.

 Steve turns the shower on and Billy tenses up as the water comes in contact with his skin.

 “Is it too hot?”

 “Yeah, a bit.”

 “I’m sorry… I take my showers really hot, so I couldn’t tell.”

 “’s fine.” Billy mumbles.

 He’s been possessed by a monster who hated warmth. He wishes he could take his showers as hot as Steve’s.

 Steve wets Billy’s hair carefully before turning the shower off and grabbing Billy’s shampoo. Steve’s hands are in his hair before Billy can brace himself. He shudders under their touch and his whole body goes pliant. He can barely stay on his feet and ends up needing to support himself on the tiled wall in front of him.

 “Are you okay, man?” Steve asked, stopping his movements.

 “Yeah… just tired.” He lies.

 “Do you need to sit down or something?”

 “No, no, it’s okay. Keep going.”

 Steve resumes washing Billy’s hair and then rinses. Then, Billy’s left to deal with the rest of his shower on his own. Thankfully.

 Like clockwork, Steve goes with Billy to the bathroom every three days to wash his hair for him. Billy feels gradually better, and his doses of meds get smaller and smaller, until he’s entirely off some of them.  However, Billy doesn’t tell Steve he’s able to raise his arms again. He would answer honestly if Steve asked him. But that’s the thing: Steve doesn’t ask. He keeps helping without complaining, and Billy’s too weak to admit he’s fine when he’s not been prompted to. He wants to wring every last drop of joy out of this situation until Steve catches on and puts his gentle hands away from Billy’s hair forever.

 It could have lasted a lot longer, if Billy had not given himself away like a dumbass. In his defense, it’s too early for reflection when it happens.

 Billy has just woken up and finds Steve rummaging through one of their kitchen drawers.

 “What the hell are you doing, Pretty boy?”

 “I can’t find the whisk.”

 “That’s because it’s not in there.” Billy says, as he reaches for it.

 He could have simply told Steve it was on the top shelf over the stove, but no. He had to get it himself, because he hasn’t had his first cup of coffee yet and is therefore deprived of his ability to think for even a second.

 He notices Steve starting at him and freezes mid-reach, but it serves no purpose except further highlighting he can now raise his arms pretty high. Higher than he would need to wash his hair properly.

 “Here you go!” He all but throws the whisk at Steve before retreating from the kitchen, kissing his coffee and his breakfast goodbye. Escaping is now his priority.

 He avoids Steve all day long, so he’s definitely perplexed when he is waiting for him in front of the bathroom door the next morning.

 “What are you doing here?” He asks before his brain can tell his big fat mouth to stay shut.

 “Well… helping you with your hair, as usual…” Steve replies, staring intently at Billy.

 “But…”

 “I know.” Steve interrupts him before he can say something stupid once more.  

 Billy is at a loss. What is Steve playing at? Why does he want to indulge Billy? Is it pity? Does he… actually like washing Billy’s hair? Why?  

 Whatever the reason is, Billy is not enough of a fool to ask. In fact, he doesn’t say anything, undressing in silence and hopping into the shower cubicle.

 With Steve so close, and his hands touching him, it quickly becomes clear to Billy that his libido has chosen that day to make a comeback. He does everything he can so that it does not become clear to Steve, in addition to himself: he tries to focus on the least sexy images he’s able to conjure, but he can still feel himself getting hard. His dick has refused to get hard for months, and now it won’t stay down no matter how badly Billy needs it to. His own dick is betraying him. How sad is that?

 Steve is now in the cubicle with him, his chest so close to Billy’s back that his now soaked t-shirt brushes against him. There’s no way he hasn’t noticed.

 “Do you…” Steve clears his throat, but his voice still sounds strained, “do you want me to lend you a hand with that too?”

 Billy opens his eyes right in time to see Steve’s slide down his chest and stop right above his crotch. They should talk about it, clear the air before doing anything, but Billy can’t bring himself to turn down Steve’s offer.

 He can only whisper “please” in between two labored breaths. When Steve takes him in hand and starts stroking him, Billy’s knees buckle under the onslaught of pleasure, and he has to lean against Steve’s chest, which makes his hard-on rest against Billy’s ass.

 “Fuck, Steve.”

 Billy grinds against him, pulling a moan from deep inside Steve’s chest. He can feel the vibration of it go through his own body.

 “God, you’re so hot.”

 Billy isn’t sure he agrees, but he’s in no position to protest. He’s on the verge of coming already. He wishes he could hold on a little longer, but he hasn’t been touched in ages and the fact that Steve is the one touching him is not helping him stave off his orgasm.

 “Steve”, he groans, “I… I’m gonna…”

 He can’t even finish his sentence. His voice has failed him.

 “I’ve got you” Steve assures.

 That’s what sends Billy over the edge. He comes hard over Steve’s hand and his own chest. The still running water cleans it off in a heartbeat. As soon as Steve lets go of Billy, he turns around and kisses him.

 He doesn’t know if kisses are on the table of their tacit agreement, but he’s going to find out. It turns out that they are indeed on the table, according to the way Steve kisses back eagerly and winds his hands in Billy’s wet locks.

 They have to separate when Billy peels Steve’s t-shirt off him and passes it over his head. After throwing the piece of clothes carelessly on the bathroom floor, instead of putting his lips back on Steve’s, Billy starts trailing kisses down Steve’s neck and chest. He stops on his way to give some attention to Steve’s nipples, delighted to note that they’re sensitive enough to get Steve panting in no time at all.

 Steve’s hands are already back in Billy’s hair, and Billy’s living for it. He keeps going down, down, down. Slowly. Until he reaches the elastic band of Steve’s old gym shorts which have been converted to pajamas. He pulls them down swiftly and takes Steve is his mouth, reveling in the gasp it gets him to make. He would have loved teasing Steve some more, but he’s been wanting this for too long. Billy looks up as he slides down Steve’s cock. Steve is staring, seemingly in awe, his brown eyes nearly black with arousal and his lips slightly parted. The sight, added to the weight and taste of the dick in his mouth, nearly gets Billy hard again. It would surely have if his cock had not just recovered from all the meds.

 Surprisingly, it does manage to harden again a few minutes later. Billy doesn’t really have the time to analyze the situation, he just feels a spike of arousal when Steve pulls hard on his hair. A choked moan leaves his throat, half from surprise and half from pleasure, as he’s hauled off Steve’s dick. Then, Steve is coming all over him, nearly silent apart from his raspy breathing. Once again, the water, which is now uncomfortably cold, does its job and washes the mess off.

 “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Steve apologizes, his voice shot to hell as if he were the one who had just had a cock down his throat. “I wanted to warn you I was going to come but I was literally rendered speechless”.

 He’s now gently massaging Billy’s abused scalp and Billy closes his eyes to enjoy the feeling.

 “It’s fine”, he assures after a while, as Steve helps him up.

 In fact, it’s more than fine. The hair pulling really got Billy going. He can’t believe he’s only discovering this. He’s known he likes his hair being played with for as long as he can remember, but he had no idea getting it pulled could feel that good. Well, until now that is.

 He can’t wait to explore that, preferably with Steve.

[the-weeping-author]

Secrets are forbidden Ch. 3

A/N: so before I start this authors note let me say some of y’all will not like how I wrote hopper so please don’t @ me lol. But finally done with chapter 3 I’m so happy.

Tag list: @ahoy-stevieboy @thehair-ington @linkispink1995 @harringtown @violet-dahlia @gardeniasandwhiskey @lxvesickreality @bluebellbrooke @thenameishayley248 @pappydaddy @simplesammyx @didyouputyournameinthegob @lenassaviorsblog @wolphielautz

Warnings: cussing, parent issues.

Wordcount: 2,592

Parings: Oc hopper x Steve Harrington.

Please enjoy 🙂

I woke up to the sound of the A/C kicking on, I threw my covers off of me. I rubbed the sleep from my face, I got undressed walking into my bathroom. I turned on the cold water, went to find clothes to wear for the first day back at school. I grabbed a pair of my black overalls, I grabbed a white t-shirt walking over to my dresser and I grabbed a bra, underwear. I walked back into the bathroom, turned the hot water all the way up, turned the cold down about halfway.

After my shower I put my clothes on, I grabbed my car keys walking out into the kitchen. I saw my father, I walked to the cabinet, grabbed a coffee mug. I poured myself a cup of coffee, I sat at the kitchen table drinking it while my father sat across from me. It was awkward, I didn’t know what to say. I knew my father didn’t hate me, but he didn’t care to talk to me either. I never knew my father’s issue with me, but I think it had to do with the fact that Sara and I didn’t share the same mother.

I wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but I didn’t have time to sit and ponder on the thought. If I were to bring it up it might make matters worse between us, I didn’t want it to get worse. That’s why I was getting a job, it was sad. Not because I had to work, but because I’d rather have all my time taken up by work, school than spend more than an hour with my father. It was too late to try and get to know me. It was 17 years too late, I didn’t care if he wanted me in his life or not anymore.

After I finished my coffee I put my mug into the sink, I walked out the front door. I got into my car, drove to school. When I got there I got out of my car, walked into the school. Eyes were on me as soon as I opened the main doors, as soon as I entered the building I left the stress of my home life at the front doors. My grades weren’t going to be affected by my crush on Steve, my father, but definitely not by the upside down. I walked to my locker, I twisted my combination perfectly because as soon as I finished the last number it popped off.

Now my lock has a love hate relationship with me, it can wait in line just like the rest of the lovely people who love but hate me. I grabbed a few textbooks out of my locker, out the corner of my eye I saw a dude. Now I knew everyone, but I didn’t know this dude. I could tell just from looking at him he was troubled from the brown boots on his feet to his curly blond hair. I knew just from looking at him once I Wasn’t going to like him, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to get to know the guy.

All it took was for us to lock eyes, he was on his way over to me. I quickly shut my locker, nearly ran into the guy. When he got closer the more I could smell his aftershave, just the aroma made me nauseous. I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear as he approached, I leaned up against my lockers as he halted to a stop right in front of me.

“So you’re the queen of Hawkins huh?”

I looked up at him, confidently nodded my head at him.

“Yep that’s me, and how may I help you?”

He smirked slightly, ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

“Names Billy Hargrove, you’re going to give me a tour of Hawkins high.”

I let out a slight amused laugh, I looked right into his eyes.

“In your dreams Blondie.”

I smiled, walked away from him. There was one thing on my mind, that was to find Steve. I mean I was sure since Billy approached me he would approach harrington. If he hadn’t already done it. He’s intentions were clear, that was to put everyone on guard here. Everyone had a target on Steve's back, but I had a feeling Billy was going to knock a few of those guys out of his way. I mean after all this was high school, guys cared about their reputation. Girls were Way different, we didn’t care who was popular. It's why I loved Robin.

Robin didn’t care that I was popular, but she didn’t like crowds so that’s why she only hung out with me at lunch. I always sat with her, only because my “friends” bothered her the whole time. So I decided that we’d only hang out at lunch and after school. It was a regular lunch day, I was sitting in my usual spot. Next thing I knew that Billy guy was sitting next to me, Robin immediately stopped talking. I turned my head a little bit to look at him, smiled.

“Hey There Bobby how can I help you this time?”

He looked at me, the corner of his mouth twitched.

“My name is Billy, But I didn’t have anyone to sit with so I thought I’d sit with you.”

I looked behind Billy, then looked back at him.

“Well according to the group of people looking over here you found somewhere to sit.”

“Huh? I don’t know what your-.”

I put my hand up, he stopped talking immediately.

“Look Benny, why don’t you just save yourself the time. I wasn’t Interested earlier and I’m not now. So save yourself the embarrassment.”

He stood up, grabbed his lunch. I could tell he was seething but It didn’t phase me, I didn’t care he definitely needed to back off. He turned his head as he walked away, stopping not too far from us.

“The name is Billy by the way.”

I turned to Robin, she smirked slightly at the conversation that just happened. She drank some of her milk, the bell rang. I walked to my locker to get some of the things that I needed for the rest of the day.

I grabbed my last book when I turned, numbed right into Steve Harrington.

“Hey Steve.”

He smiled at me, nudged me with his shoulder.

“Hey hopper how are you?”

I shut my locker, looked at him.

“Well besides some guy named Baxter Hargrove coming up to me today I’m good. How about you?”

Steve's eyebrows furrowed, he cracked a smile at me.

“You mean Billy?”

I gasped dramatically, I put my finger on my Chin.

“Oh is that his name I was wondering why he kept popping up every time I turned around?”

Steve let out a laugh, shook his head at me then he looked down at me his smile dropping some at my last statement.

“He came up to you? What did he say?”

I shook my head, let out a laugh.

“He was basically trying to get me to give him a tour of Hawkins, but it definitely wasn’t happening. He probably just wanted to get alone with me so he could lie about some false sexual encounter.”

I barely saw steves faces drop, but I could tell just by mentioning Billy probably lying about something stupid made him upset. Which was weird cause we weren’t a thing, but I guess he was just being protective. For some odd reason, trust me it wasn’t like Steve to be protective Steve and I never had the best anything really. I mean we were always making fun of each other even in elementary school.

I shrugged it off though, I continued with the rest of my day. The last period of school went by like a blink of an eye, it was time for me to return to my Castle in the woods. I walked to my car, I saw Steve standing near my car. I guess Nancy was somewhere else at the time because they were always together, I walked to my car opening my door.

“What’s up Harrington?”

Steve smiled, moved off the side of my car.

“Nothing just wanted to come see if the queen of Hawkins high was going to Tina’s party.”

I let out a laugh, looked at him.

“Steve you know just as well as anyone else I’m going.”

He smiled then looked at me, nodded his head. I looked through my purse for my keys, When I finally found them he responded.

“Alright cool I guess I’ll see you then?”

I threw my purse in my car, looked at him.

“Okay Harrington what’s your damage?”

He cocked a brow at me, shrugged.

“What do you mean?”

I shook my head at him, let out a sarcastic laugh.

“You know exactly what I mean Steve. We totally aren’t friends, now all of a sudden you’re being nice to me and making sure I’m going to a party so like what’s your damage?”

Steve looked at me, put his hands up in defense.

“Jenna I was just trying to be nice, maybe I want us to actually have a friendship instead of being at each other's throats.”

I nodded my head, looked at him.

“Okay Steve but we need to hang out more if I’m going to consider you a friend.. so here’s my number. You can call when you want to hang out. I have to go.”

I smiled at him while I grabbed a bubble gum wrapper along with a pen, I jot down my number. I handed him the wrapper, got into my car, buckled up then drove away from the parking lot.

After I pulled into my driveway I stepped out of my car, over the fishing line that was totally invisible. I sighed when I finally got inside the house, called out.

“El I’m home.”

She came out of her room with a smile on her face, she looked at me.

“How was school?”

I laughed at her, ruffled her hair.

“Well we have some new guy at school named Billy but he’s a dick, but don’t tell Hopper I said that.”

She smiled, crossed her heart then held out her pinky which I gladly accepted. I wrapped my pinky around hers, She told me about her day at the house and I told her about my day. I started dinner, after it was done my dad finally came home. I sat his plate in front of him, I sat Eli’s in front of her then I sat down.

“Hey dad, how was work?”

He poked his food with his fork, then shrugged.

“Eh.”

I looked at him then smiled.

“Anything exciting happen today?”

He shrugged again, took a bite.

“Nope.”

I looked at him, smiled.

“School was good, we got a new guy but he’s totally bogus.”

This time he didn’t reply. I knew he just got in from work, but he could at least indulge in the conversation. I sighed, quickly ate my food then stood up from the table.

“Alright El come see me before you go to bed I have something for you.”

She nodded, continued to eat. After I washed my plate, fork off I walked into my room. I sat on my bed, stared doing homework. About thirty minutes later the phone rang, I heard my dad pick it up, a few minutes later he knocked on my door.

“Jenna telephone.”

I cocked my eyebrow, I closed my folder, and got off my bed. I walked to the phone, I put it up to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Jenna it’s me Steve.”

I smiled slightly, I walked into a more secluded area of the cabin.

“Hey Steve what’s up?”

I heard him take in a breath then exhale.

“Nothing just wanted to hang out so I thought I’d call and see if you wanted to hang out.”

I furrowed my brows together, looked at my clock.

“Steve it’s ten thirty. There’s no way my dad’s going to let me go out.”

Steve went silent for a minute then he decided to speak again.

“You can’t sneak out?”

I sighed, put my palm against my forehead.

“Yeah I’ll get my shoes on, where should I go?”

“Come to my house duh.”

“Okay Steve see you in about fifteen minutes bye.”

After hanging up with Steve I slid on my shoes, grabbed my car keys. I walked out into the living room, my dad was watching tv so I decided to ask him just to let him know where I would be.

“Dad Steve wants me to go over to his house is that okay?”

He didn’t even look away from the tv, I barely heard him answer me.

“Mhm yeah have fun.”

I sighed, shook my head. Most kids my age would kill to have a parent who let them do whatever, but honestly it wasn’t everything expected it to be. He didn’t just let me do whatever I wanted, but he didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

After I got to my car safely I put the key in the ignition, turned it. After it started up I pulled out of the woods, headed to the Harrington house hold. The sky was beautifully lit, the moon was full. It was a beautiful night to be out, but I assume Steve wasn’t one for stargazing. I mean come on he could barely hold a conversation.

The drive to Steve's house was quick, when I got there his porch light was on. I knocked on the door, he opened it smiling at me.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

I nodded my head at him, he opened the door.

“Did you think I wasn’t coming?”

He looked at me, rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well uh I honestly didn’t know.”

I smiled, looked at him.

“Are your parents home?”

He quickly shook his head no, let out a scoff.

“No they aren’t, they’re never here.”

I looked at him, looked around.

“Yeah I can definitely relate to that.”

His brows furrowed, he looked at me walking over to the couch sitting on it.

“What do you mean, isn’t your dad home like all the time?”

I let out a soft sigh, then sat beside him pushing my hair behind my ear.

“He is but he doesn’t really pay me any kind it’s a total drag.”

He pressed his lips together for a quick moment, then he rubbed his hands on his jeans. Since when did Steve Harrington get nervous?

“I’m sorry to hear that Jenna, would you like a beer?”

I probably should have said no, but I decided against that thought.

“Sure Steve I’d love one.”

He stood off the couch, walked towards the kitchen.

“Okay I’ll be right back, oh and Jenna.”

I looked up at him, arched my eyebrow at him.

“Yes Steve?”

“You can always talk to me if you need to.”

I smiled at him, nodded my head at him.

“Same here harrington.”

The rest of the evening was spent laughing, talking about everything really. School, parents, his relationship, and we even went for a swim which quickly escalated into a playful splash fight. I don’t know what changed between Steve and I but something did, I saw myself developing a crush on Steve, but I didn’t know how or when it happened.

A/N: thank you guys and gals so much for reading chapter 3 I hope y’all liked it. Sorry hopper fans but his attitude isn’t gonna change for a few chapters.

[ramblesanddragons]

Food Brings You Together...Probably.

@elisheva9467 asked for a little slice of story with Stan and Ford. Ended up being a little longer than I thought. I have a headcanon that Stan likes to cook and this happened. Thanks for waiting elisheva

Stan was going to have to swallow a bit of his pride but it would be worth it if his plan worked.

“Hey Ford, I’m headed to the store. Would ya mind coming with me?”

His twin perked his head up from designing something for the boat at the question. A soft and understanding smile crossed his face.

“Of course.”

Now Ford thought he was coming along on the rare chance  there was a memory incident. Ever since the not end of the world, Ford had been doing his best to help Stan out and he appreciated it, he really did. The real reason Stan was dragging him along though was to get his stubborn brother to eat a real meal. Ever since coming home Ford had consumed nothing but coffee and some sort of alien food pill. His hope was that Ford would eye something good and want to eat it. If not Stan had a few other ideas.

Three isles in and it was looking like the con man was going to have to appeal to his brother’s since of practicality. He started putting in every unhealthy food item he saw. He had cut out so many of his vices in his life that junk food had become one of the only ones Stan let himself indulge in but this was reaching ridiculous even for him. Ford finally noticed.

“Stan...do you really need 3 cartons of ice cream?”

“Eh, I’m old. I think I should eat what I want.”

To Stan’s frustration Ford didn’t argue. Alright time to pull out the big guns. He casually walked over to the stakes and started picking out nice ones. (Two of which went into his jacket pocket because good meat is too damn expensive)

“Besides everyone knows I’m the better cook in the family.”

“Now who says that?”

Bingo

“I might get a lot of take out but I also learned how to cook pretty good. I was always the one helping Ma out in the kitchen. You couldn’t make cereal without burning it.” Stan chortled.

“It’s cook pretty wel...I mean. I can cook just fine thank you.”

“Okay then, prove it. You cook dinner tonight and I’ll cook it tomorrow. Who ever makes the better meal is the better cook.”

“We both know we’ll pick our own meals Stan.”

“So we get Soos and his abuelita to be the judges. Don’t let them know who cooked what.”

Ford pondered for a moment then smiled. “Very well. If you’ll excuse me I have a few things to go get.”

While Ford was distracted Stan returned the ridiculous amount of junk food and got what he needed for his dinner. A few times Ford came up to Stan asking for a few weird things (”Does this store carry Ignatriumsis?” “Ford that’s not a real word in this dimension.”) they checked out and headed home.

Having grown used to cooking over an open fire Stan helped Ford pull out the old grill and then settled into his seat to watch TV. The shack was oddly quiet. Soos was finishing packing up his stuff in his old place and his abuelita was at bingo night. He missed the noise of the kids but a chance to relax was nice too. The old man began comfortably dozing.

Until there was the sound of a large fire roaring to life.

Stan scrambled to the kitchen to grab the fire extinguisher and ran outside to quell whatever mishap his brother had created. Running outside there was a thin column of fire rising out of the grill at least 15 feet into the air but thankfully dying down. Behind the grill was Ford, smiling wide. If anyone were to summon hell fire to cook it would be Ford.

“What the actual fuck Sixer?”

“The coals refused to light so I did a little improvising.”

Stan threw the extinguisher at Ford who caught and went back inside to get his heart to stop racing a mile a minute.

Dinner was served around six. The four of them sat comfortably around the table. Still a little quiet without the kids but still pleasant. On their plates was grilled chicken, corn covered in Mexican crema and cotija (Stan knew what Ford was up to. Playing up to the old ladies’ nostalgia. Clever.) and green beans. It honestly did look very good. Ford had marinated the chicken in something zesty which was delicious but the chicken was a tad bit burnt. Soos’ Abuelita hummed in pleasure eating the corn and which lead to a few stories of her childhood. After dinner the twins did the dishes while the other two went to watch TV.

“Alright. I can admit when I enjoy a meal,” Stan said.

“Why thank you Stanley.”

“But I’m going to blow you out of the water tomorrow.”

The next day Stan found himself itching to get to dinner time. In all honesty he liked to cook, was decent at it too if you asked him. One of the few things he let himself enjoy after being financially stable enough was good food. Nothing fancy really (unless he could sneak it out of the store) but it was nice to have three square meals a day after going so long wondering where his next meal was coming from. The only reason he ate out with the kids so much this summer is those little gremlins took up a lot of energy. Between that and the portal he was wiped most days. It was nice to be cooking again.

Stan seasoned the steaks and let them sit a bit while he got the baked potatoes ready. There was even going to be a fancy cesar salad with shaved parmesan. Salad was normally classified as ‘rabbit food’ but Ford would like it.

Stan downed each of the stakes in butter and garlic careful to make it how he knew everyone liked it. This wasn’t the first time he had made dinner for Soos and his abuelita and maybe that was slightly cheating but he didn’t really care. Let’s see...he liked his rare, Abuelita liked hers closer to well, Soos liked a nice medium, and he figured Ford would like it that was as well.

Dinner was once again nice and pleasant. Stan had finally gotten used to having people constantly joining him for dinner. It was weird at first but he found that he rather enjoyed it. Soos was almost done with moving and the boys shared their plans to go to the coast tomorrow. They would be getting home late but the perfect Stan of War II was waiting to be bought.  Before after dinner clean up Stan cleared his throat.

“Okay before we head off for the night we got something to ask you two. Which dinner did you like better?”

Their judges pondered for a moment.

“I liked tonight’s the best. Love me some steak,” Soos said.

“I actually liked last night’s dinner better. Not that tonight wasn’t delicious as well.”

Ford chuckled, “Perhaps we needed a third judge.”

“Meh doesn’t matter. Got you to do what I wanted so I’ll call that a win.”

Ford shot him a confused look. “Was this a...what exactly was your goal here?”

“To get ya to eat a real damn meal.”

“Oh.”

Soos and his abuelita quietly left the kitchen although Stan was certain they were still listening.

“Look I know I don’t eat that well but living off alien pills and coffee can’t be much better for ya. Besides I’ve learned to be a pretty good cook. ‘Bout the only thing I’ve gotten good at. You’re going to be doin’ all the science stuff on this trip the least I can do it cook shit but that doesn’t help if ya don’t eat.” Stan stood and began aggressively scrubbing at the dishes.

“Stan you’re not just along to be the cook or to be some sort of help. I want to go on an adventure with my brother. We could go anywhere really as long as we’re having fun.”

The old man turned “Can that include a warm place or two? Maybe pick up some babes?”

“I will schedule babes into the itinerary. With three...or at least one square meal a day.”

Stan barked out a laugh, “Only one?”

“I’m trying to be realistic.”

The next night the boys got home very late but with a new boat to make their own in tow. Stan had planned on just hitting the hey when they got in but the twins were met with the most heavenly smell when they opened the door. They found Soos in the den already in a food coma and his abuelita setting out two plates with some of the most mouth watering food they had ever seen. Beef tamales with a slight bit of steam rising off of them and cilantro rice.

“You were so nice to cook dinner the past two nights I figured it was my turn.” She chirped happily.

Ford and Stan dug in and Stan was pretty sure he ascended to heaven for a moment. Everything was melt in your mouth good. He looked his twin in the eye.

“She wins.” They said at the same time.

[cagestark]

-Defender//6-

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

just a lil chapter. Next is the last.

Read here on AO3.

-

Tony’s hand isn’t as burned as he feared. Once the initial redness wears off, the skin is just tinted pink and a little raw. Still Rhodey supervises down in Tony’s lab while the younger man applies burn cream to the tender skin. On top of all the callouses and scars that his hands already bear, he’s surprised he even feels it at all.

“I’ve never heard you so quiet before,” Rhodey says from where’s he’s seated on a stool on the other side of the lab table, the surface strewn with first aid supplies. The man’s dark eyes track his every move, mouth in its characteristic frown. “I’ve never actually heard you be quiet at all. This must be serious.”

“It’s not, really,” Tony says. But as he says it, he loses his confidence. What happened upstairs seems pretty serious: seriously concerning, seriously unexpected. In a deep, vulnerable place, Tony was seriously grateful. “Peter is protective. I recruited him a few weeks ago when I found him scaling the side of the building.”

Rhodey’s eyebrows climb up his sloped forehead. “Mutant?”

“Enhanced,” says Tony, slowly refilling the first aid supply kit. “Bitten by a radioactive spider, believe it or not. He’s got super strength, agility, and scopulae that help him stick to nearly any surface like Velcro.”

“Goddamn.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“So why are you the surface he’s stuck himself to?” Rhodey asks.

Tony lets the question linger, pondering it. This is Rhodey, who has seen him in all manners of debauchery, who has seen every high and low of Tony’s up-close-and-personal for the last thirty years—but that doesn’t mean it gets any easier to see the disappointment in his face. It doesn’t mean that Tony doesn’t fear losing one of the last people who cares about him, who tolerates him at all.

At last Tony says, “I think he’s kind of in love with me.”

“Kid’s got a crush?”

“Yeah,” Tony admits. “And—he’s not the only one.”

Rhodey sighs, reaching up to rub at his forehead. “Jesus, Tones. How old is he?”

“Legal. Not that it makes it any better with more than twenty years between us. Steve doesn’t approve. He thinks I’m grooming the kid.” 

“These people don’t know you at all,” Rhodey says. “Tony. Tony, look at me. That’s not the kind of guy you are.” 

“He’s the most righteous man alive,” Tony says. His hands shake, weakness, like leftover DT’s from the day she stopped drinking an inordinate amount of alcohol and only indulged on occasion. Weakness. All he’s made from are a dozen different weaknesses stitched together into the shape of a man. “You know me. Obviously I’m not one for self-reflection. But when the man who used to kill Nazis for a living always thinks the worst of me, maybe it’s because there is worse in me.

“Peter treats me like the sun shines out of my ass, all because I treat him like a fucking human being, but he barely knows me. If there’s one thing history has taught me, it’s that there’s Captain America’s side, and then there’s the wrong side. I always end up on the other side. Always. If Peter isn’t careful, he’s going to end up there with me, and that’s not what I want for him. He’s good, I think. In his core.” 

“So are you,” Rhodey says. “None of the Avengers know you, and you don’t even know yourself. If you did, you wouldn’t let yourself be treated like this. At least this kid seems to have some sense, even if he’s subtle as a brick wielding it. I feel a lot better about spending so much time in DC knowing that someone is here and in your corner.”

-

Peter rests his forehead against one of the glass floor-length window panes in his room, mouth full of sticky-sweet cherry flavored pastry. He can barely taste it. Up this high, Manhattan looks fake beneath him, a toy city that he should take care not to step on, like the lego structures he used to leave out around May’s apartment when he was a boy. 

May. The pain of losing her never gets easier. There is no coping, there is just forgetting. Times when his mind is so full up with other things that there is no room for even her, when he’s working on a machine, when he’s training with Natasha in the gym. Then in moments like this, her memory comes rushing back in, and it’s like the grieving process starts over. She dies again to him, every day. 

Are you ashamed of me? Peter wonders, looking into the cloudless sky. There is no answer. 

May had never liked violence, but she was fierce in her own way. She believed in justice, she believed in compassion. Would she think he overreacted in the kitchen when he’d threatened to tear off another enhanced’s limb? Or would she think him justified, if she knew of the things Steve and the rest of the team had done to Tony? Just thinking about it makes his blood boil. People who had hurt Tony physically and emotionally, people who had no respect for him, people who still took advantage of every bit of his goodwill. Unremorseful people. 

Glancing down, Peter sees that he’s crushed his other poptart to crumbs. Kneeling down to sweep them into the palm of his hand, his spine goes stiff, just a brief moment of warning—someone at the door, not Steve, not Tony, someone—before there is a firm knock. Abandoning the crumbs, Peter opens the door a crack, afraid of who might be on the other side. 

A dark, serious complexion greets him. 

“Hi,” Rhodey says. “Can I come in?” 

“Of course,” Peter says, opening the door wide to let him past. He catches a brief glimpse of the other Avengers standing huddled together, eyeing Peter’s room with wariness before he shuts the door on the image. 

It must look strange, a young man whose room is so empty. No photographs on the wall, no pile of clothes on the floor, no posters or game consoles. The bed is made (unslept in most nights, though Rhodey would have no way of knowing that sometimes Peter feels more comfortable in enclosed spaces, that he curls up inside the closet empty except for clothes hangers or that he crawls underneath the bed to sleep). Combined with his display in the kitchen, he can’t imagine what the older, distinguished man must think of him. 

“Is Tony’s hand okay?” Peter asks. He can still hear the pained hiss the man made when the steaming coffee spilt onto his bare flesh. It makes that feeling come up in Peter all over again, that feeling like he has swallowed fire, fury like acid that eats at his stomach, fury that he wants to spit out at someone. At Steve Rogers. “I should have stayed to make sure.” 

“It might blister,” Rhodey says. “But he gets worse down there in his lab on the daily. That’s not why I’m here.” 

“Why are you here then?” 

“Tony is important to me. The most important person in my life except for my own mother. I’ve been watching his back since he was a teenager, and short of dying, nothing’s ever going to change that. That’s either going to make us friends or enemies, Parker. Your choice.” 

On the lengthy list of threats Peter’s received in his life, this is easily the most charming. Rhodey isn’t even enhanced. Peter could kill him without breaking a sweat, could tear his head from his body, could pull off his arms and legs the way other kids do to spiders, to smaller, weaker creatures. But there’s still something formidable about the other man. At the very least, there is something respectable. 

“Anyone in Tony’s corner is someone I want to be friends with,” Peter admits. 

Rhodey’s expression softens. He holds out a hand that Peter meets with his own. “Then you’re alright by me, kid. You could use a lesson in picking your battles, though. It doesn’t take enhanced powers of deduction to see that Rogers wants you off the team.” 

“I’ll fight any battle that protects Tony.” 

“And when you’re on the bench because Rogers has convinced the Powers that Be that you’re too unpredictable to be in the field? Who’s going to be protecting Tony then? Too many injuries have happened on missions because not a single one of them can be counted on to have Tony’s back. You could change that, if you’d get a grip on your temper,” Rhodey says. Peter’s shoulders sag—he hadn’t even thought of that. 

“Sometimes I can’t help it,” Peter admits. “It feels like there’s this monster inside of me. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde or something. When they say something bad about Tony or when they hurt him, some flip inside me gets switched. How do I stop?” 

“You’ve got to choose what’s more important to you,” Rhodey says. “Protecting Tony or avenging him.” 

For a long time after Rhodey leaves, Peter stands at the wall of windows, staring out unseeing at the city below while he cycles through everything that Colonel Rhodes said, wondering again and again, Why can’t Peter do both?

-

“This is like, a foreign language to me,” Peter mutters, flipping through the textbook that Tony had retrieved for him. The cover reads FUNDAMENTALS OF ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING. The glossy margins are filled with Tony’s tiny scrawl, and Peter runs his fingers reverently over the writing trying to imagine a fifteen year old boy scribbling on each page. He’s seen pictures, newspapers archived on the New York City Public Library computers of a young, handsome boy crouched beside a robot he built, smiling into the camera. Fifteen years old, and this had been nothing to Tony. Peter is twenty and it takes him ages to get through a single paragraph, googling foreign terms on his phone and struggling to understand the abstract concepts. 

Tony glances up from his StarkPad. He balks at the expression on Peter’s face and turns the tablet off, sitting it aside. “Come over. We can go through it together.” 

“You’d explain it to me?” Peter asks, raking his eyes over the older man’s face. Fuck, Tony is so handsome. That look he’s giving Peter, too, the unbearably tender kind, the fond kind, it makes him all the more beautiful. He’s not above asking Tony for help. His pride was one of the first things he had to let go of when he began to live and sleep rough. “I feel like an idiot.” 

“You’re far from an idiot,” Tony says. He pats the seat next to him and they sit shoulder to shoulder, close enough that Peter can soak up the man’s warmth, struggling not to sway ever closer. Tony has his own gravity, and Peter often feels helpless to it. “You’re self-taught. It’s no wonder that a lot of this technical jargon isn’t connecting.” 

They make it through the first chapter together, and Tony was right—much of it Peter was familiar with, though it hadn’t been presented in terms he knew. Tony is an excellent teacher, too. Patient and insightful, witty. He soothes Peter’s fears that he isn’t smart enough, builds confidence in him that maybe he could learn to be an engineer the way he’d always dreamed. 

“We should send you to school,” Tony says afterwards, handing Peter a chilled Coke from the refrigerator. “An Avengers Scholarship, maybe. Full ride, all the amenities, only the best schools and tutors.”

“You mean you won’t be my private tutor, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, letting his eyes get wide and sweet. Most older men find the guileless thing sexy, but Tony just laughs at him. 

“I wouldn’t want to put your education in jeopardy. People will hardly be able to say I’m an unbiased educator,” Tony says. The warm, dark eyes drop to Peter’s mouth for just a moment before looking away, drinking deeply from his own Coke. “Though I’m sure we could come up with some incentive program for good grades.” 

“Incentive program, oh,” Peter laughs. “I like the—”

An alarm begins to sound, loud enough that Peter feels it in his teeth and deeper. It’s louder, harsher than the sound of Tony’s doorbell. The reaction it evokes in the older man is visceral as well, eyes going wide, jaw going tight as he taps at his glasses. The sound cuts out of the penthouse, but Peter can hear it continuing on in the floors below. 

“What’s wrong?” Peter asks. “Are we under attack?” 

“Someone is. That’s the alarm for the Avengers to assemble.” 

-

The people under attack are on the west coast. Some ‘half-rate magician’ (Dr. Stephen Strange’s words, not Peter’s) had accidentally conjured inter-dimensional creatures that they couldn’t control nor send packing. The Avengers are being sent to round them up and with the assistance of Dr. Strange, send them back to where they’ve come from. 

For the first time, Peter meets Director Nick Fury, a black man with one eye and a direct way of speaking that Peter can appreciate. Around the table are seated seven other Avengers: Natasha, Steve, Clint, Sam, Wanda, Vision, and Tony himself. After Fury ends his briefing on the situation, Steve stands and begins to formulate the briefest bones of a game plan and—

Peter isn’t in it. 

“Sorry, kid,” Steve says. “You’re not yet cleared for field work. Maybe next time.” 

“I’ve been working with Natasha for weeks,” Peter says. Colonel Rhodes words play on a loop in Peter’s brain, and they’re his lifeboat in the sea of anxiety that threatens to drown him. Peter needs to stay calm and play it cool. It’s the only way he’ll be allowed to have Tony’s back, and he must have Tony’s back. “This seems like the perfect mission for me to get my feet wet.” 

Tony sits beside Peter, silent and stiff. Director Fury watches all of them with a cool, knowing gaze when he says, “He’s got a point, Captain.” 

“We’ve got protocols for a reason,” Steve says. “Putting you in the field before you’re ready is an easy way to get hurt, Pete. Sorry, but the answer is no.” 

All eyes turn to Fury, who nods to Steve magnanimously. “Don’t look at me,” he tells them. “That’s your team leader. It’s his call.” 

Peter listens to the rest of the plans with his hands clenched in his lap, knuckles turning white. He cycles through every stage of grief, and as soon as the team breaks to head to the room where the helicarrier will take them to California, Peter catches one of Tony’s wrists to keep him from filing out of the room, just another soldier under Captain Rogers’s command. 

“Please don’t go,” Peter mutters. Director Fury watches them unabashedly, his arms crossed. Tony lifts a hand to ruffle Peter’s hair, but the expression on his face is downright grim.

“Don’t worry about me, kid,” Tony says softly. “I’ve been doing this gig for years now, and I haven’t died yet.” 

That doesn’t comfort Peter at all. When Tony leaves, he takes all the warmth with him until Peter feels chilled to the bone. 

“Parker. Nice to officially meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Director Fury says. He doesn’t offer his hand to shake, and neither does Peter. 

“From who?” Peter wonders out loud. “Captain Rogers?”

Fury hums noncommittally. “Don’t worry about Stark. He is an asset to the Avengers, and I will do all I can to ensure his safety.” 

“With all due respect Director Fury—he is not just an asset,” Peter says. Too afraid of what else might come from his mouth, come straight up from that dark place inside of him fueled by fear and anger and hurt, Peter lets his feet guide him back to the elevator. Without asking, FRIDAY takes him up to Tony’s penthouse. When Tony gets back, Peter plans to move back in (so long as the older man wants him to). He tells himself that again and again. When Tony gets back. When. 

Peter sits and he waits.

[st-crylo]

Rebound

Part 11

A/N: Not much to say this time, but I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of a hangover, minor swearing

Word Count: 4.5K

Tagging: @haylaansmi @thomasscresswell @maybe-your-left @nankstasty

Masterlist

In the morning, the smell of coffee filled your senses, but you kept your eyes closed, remaining close to the source of warmth beside you, at least, until that source of warmth began to stir, and climbed off the mattress of the pull out couch. You then begrudgingly opened your eyes to see Kylo stretching and yawning before heading into the kitchen.

"Morning sleepyhead. Feeling better?" You heard Sami say. You sat up yourself, rubbing your eyes before letting out your own yawn.

"My head hurts as all fuck. I'll take a coffee, though," you heard Kylo say before the sound of pouring coffee brought silence between the two of them. That was when you decided to stand up. 

"Good morning (Y/N). Are you in the mood for waffles?" Sami asked as she spotted you heading into the kitchen. You examined the homey little kitchen, your eyes lightly passing over Kylo who was drinking his coffee black. You looked away quickly though, remembering last night.

It wasn't but five minutes after Kylo had kissed you that the two of you had fallen asleep. You had snuggled in perfectly to Kylo's chest, and he'd had his arms wrapped around you all night. It felt amazing in the moment, but now that you were well rested and sober, you wondered if it had simply been an impulse of Kylo's drunken mind. So, in order to keep yourself from hurting, you decided not to bring it up until Kylo did. 

"You didn't ask me if I wanted waffles," Kylo said with a frown before turning to look at you. "Morning." He was smiling at you, but it had that awkward quality to it. 

"Because you'll probably throw it back up. (y/n) didn't have nearly as much as you to drink. Also, Phasma just went to get your car, she said she was gonna get Pat to help her." 

"That's nice. I'm thankful for Phasma, but I don't know that I'll be talking to Pat for a while," Kylo admitted before taking another sip of his coffee. You could definitely understand where he was coming from. After all, his ex probably wouldn't have shown up without Hux, and Pat had invited Hux, knowing his and Kylo's history. It was honestly a pretty shitty move. 

"Can't say I blame you. I told him it was a bad idea to invite that ginger bastard. He doesn't want to ever listen to anyone, though," Sami said, drinking her own coffee. You stepped forward and poured yourself a cup, opting for a little milk and sugar before taking a sip, savoring its warmth. The caffeine felt replenishing to your body. 

"So, waffles?"

"Yeah, I can definitely go for some waffles right now," you responded with a smile. Sami then smiled and got to work making the waffles, pulling out a waffle press and mixing the waffle mix. 

"Can one of you put the pull out couch back in?" Sami asked as she mixed. 

"Yeah," you and Kylo both said in sync, looking at each other, but then both looking away. Sami looked between the two of you suspiciously. 

"We'll both do it," you said, placing your mug on the island before heading back to the living room, Kylo following behind you. Once in the living room, you pulled off all the blankets and pillows from the pull out couch, and placed them on the loveseat. Kylo then began folding in the bed, placing the couch cushions once he was finished. 

"Hey, can we talk outside?" Kylo said softly once the two of you were done folding the blankets.

"Yeah," you responded, following him out the door. 

Once outside, Kylo looked anywhere but your face, as if he was trying to find the right words to say. Your heart was pounding so furiously in your chest, you were worried that Kylo could hear it, and you were afraid of your rapid heartbeat breaking the silence.

"So, um, about last night, when I...kissed you. I was so drunk, and I couldn't stop myself, I'm sorry. I promise it didn't really mean anything, though," Kylo said, and your heart stopped.

For a moment, you were frozen in time, breathless, ready for tears to burst out your eyes at any moment, but you composed yourself. No, you weren't going to be like that right now, and you had to remember that you weren't interested in Kylo like that, you couldn't be, especially since he apparently wasn't interested in you. 

"Oh, it's no problem, I was really drunk, too. Besides, you had a rough night," you said, trying to play it off.

"That doesn't mean it was good of me to do. I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Kylo explained. You shook your head, giving him a smile.

"Really, there's no need to be. I get it," you said, trying to ignore the aching in your heart. You instead smiled up at him, and he gave you a half-smile back. The two of you looked away when you heard cars pulling into the driveway, Phasma driving Kylo’s car, and Alan driving Phasma’s car.

The rest of the morning was spent enjoying the waffles Sami made, but you couldn’t deny the sadness that had settled like a dark veil over your heart, giving everything the slightest touch of gray. Sami definitely noticed, as she gave you a look, as if to silently ask, Are you ok? You had simply shook your head.

I’ll tell you later, you mouthed to her when Kylo wasn’t looking, too busy in his conversation with Phasma. 

After breakfast, Kylo stretched out before letting out a yawn. “I’m gonna go ahead and head home, (y/n), do you want a ride?” He asked you, turning to look at you.

“No, Phas is gonna take me home later. I’m gonna hang out here for a while,” you responded, only keeping eye contact with him for the necessary amount of time before he turned away, looking at Alan expectantly. Alan nodded before standing up, standing beside Kylo. 

“Well, I’ll see you guys later,” Kylo said. Alan waved goodbye to all of you before following Kylo out of the house. When the door shut, you let out a shaky sigh.

“Ok, so what’s wrong?” Sami asked, her and Phasma both turning to face you from their spots on the couch. As soon as Sami asked, tears began to prick at your eyes. You quickly tried to wipe them away before beginning to explain. 

***

In his car, Kylo kept tapping on his steering wheel, and it was beginning to annoy Alan.

“Alan, I have a question for you,” Kylo said, making Alan groan internally. Kylo was always annoying to deal with when he was antsy like this, and Alan wasn’t sure he wanted to indulge in whatever question Kylo had, but he was stuck in the car with him for at least another ten minutes, so he might as well.

“What?”

“Now, be honest. Do you think (y/n) likes me? Not as a friend, but as...more,” Kylo said, a blush rising to his cheeks.

Alan had to keep himself from scoffing. Even if it wasn’t obvious to the two of you, it was obvious to everyone else how the two of you really felt for each other. The fact that Kylo even had to ask was a little ridiculous, but he humored his friend.

“It seems pretty obvious to me that she does, but have you tried asking her yourself?” Alan said, looking out the window.

Kylo was silent for a moment as he pulled up to a red light. Then, he turned to Alan again.

“Wanna go see Milo?”

***

“He said he didn’t mean it?” Sami asked incredulously. You nodded, trying your hardest not to cry.

“He blamed it on the fact that he was drunk, but when we kissed it felt...good. I’d never even felt that way kissing Shawn,” you explained, the aching in your heart just increasing the more you talked about it.

“There’s no way he didn’t mean it. From my experience, drunk people are the most honest,” Phasma said with authority. 

“I don’t know. He seemed to really regret it,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

“That doesn’t make any sense. You might not see it, but Kylo is definitely into you. He looks at you the same way Milo looks at Sami,” Phasma said.

“I don’t know about that…”

“Oh come on, you guys act like you’re a real couple. Even we can barely tell the difference anymore, and we knew about Kylo’s plan from the beginning,” Sami started. “He probably only said that because he thought you didn’t feel the same way about him. Kylo is a very emotional person, but he does everything he can to keep himself from hurting again. It doesn’t make him any less of a fool.”

“Here’s my advice. When you get home tonight, talk to him, and tell him how you feel,” Phasma offered.

“But I don’t want to ruin the friendship we have. Being friends with him again has been amazing, I don’t want to risk that on the chance that he doesn’t feel for me romantically,” you said, laying back on the couch and looking to the ceiling. That was your biggest fear of all. If you could accept your feelings for Kylo and actually manage to talk to him about it, and he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, would he even want to continue being friends with you? 

***

“I think I fucked up,” Kylo said, plopping down on the couch inside Milo’s dorm room. He’d somehow managed to get a room to himself, something Kylo was grateful for right now. Alan plopped down beside Kylo, biting into a brownie his brother had given him. 

“What did you do this time? Nothing illegal I hope,” Milo said, seated at his desk. 

“No, it’s about (y/n),” Kylo said, running a hand through his black hair. 

“Did you finally tell her?”

“I did the fucking opposite.”

Milo sat there for a while and pondered before grabbing a pillow from his bed and throwing it directly at Kylo. It hit Kylo directly in the face, then fell onto his lap, leaving him with a look of exasperation towards Milo.

“First off, you’re an idiot. What exactly happened?”

“Last night I was crossfaded as fuck, and so I stayed over at Sami’s last night. Well, she decided to stay with me and so I...kissed her.”

There was silence over the room, as Kylo hadn’t even told Alan yet during the hours-long drive. Milo looked as if he was deep in thought. 

“Is that it? Seems like you let her know how you feel.”

“That’s the problem. This morning I told her I didn’t mean it like that.” Kylo felt stupid even just repeating it. He should have told you, should have brought you close and let you know exactly how he felt, but he didn’t, and now he was paying for it. 

“Wow, you really are a fucking idiot. Why’d you say that?” Milo said, standing up to grab a t-shirt and cover the smoke detector. Once he’d done that, he sat back down, cigarette in hand. 

“Because I thought it might be too soon for her, but as soon as I said it, the look in her eyes said otherwise, even though she tried to hide it.” Kylo couldn’t pretend to be oblivious to the hurt in your eyes as soon as he said his kiss didn’t mean anything. He felt horrible for making you feel that way, but he also couldn’t deny how terrified he was. 

He knew you were nothing like Stella, you were kind and considerate, but you also let him be himself. It didn’t prevent the fear in his heart about entering another relationship, though. He didn’t doubt that you would be an amazing girlfriend, but he was afraid of failing as a partner. Kylo knew he was a fucked up person, and that there was no fixing him at this point. He just hoped that you wouldn’t mind all the broken pieces. 

***

When Phasma drove you home that night, you noticed Kylo’s car wasn’t parked in the driveway. You felt worry settle into your stomach, but you ignored it as you climbed out of Phasma’s car. 

“Talk to him when he gets home,” Phasma said sternly.

“No promises,” you said. Phasma rolled her eyes in response before driving away. You then proceeded to walk into your house, making a beeline for your room to avoid any questions from your mom. You were at least glad that you’d decided to take a shower at Sami’s house, or you would’ve smelled like stale weed and alcohol. 

As soon as you got to your room, you were about to pull up your messages with Kylo when you saw headlights. Rushing to the window, you watched as Kylo’s car pulled into the driveway next door. Once the headlights were turned off, you watched as Kylo stepped out of the car, running a hand through his disheveled hair. You watched until he stepped into his grandparents’ home. 

With a sigh, you moved away from the window and then ambled over to your bed. Picking up your phone, you noticed you had just received a message from Kylo. 

Feel like skipping tomorrow?

You felt your stomach churn, but not necessarily in a bad way. You’d never skipped school before without being sick, so it made you nervous, but you were definitely open to try. 

Why not, was your reply.

In the morning, you got ready for school as usual before coming down the stairs to grab your lunch and meet up with Kylo. Once you were outside, the chill of the September morning seemed to be sent through your bones as you trudged across the grass to Kylo’s car, your shoes becoming slightly damp from the morning dew. 

“Morning,” Kylo said, smoking a cigarette as he waited for you. He was wearing his leather jacket, and you could see his box of cigarettes poking out from the front pocket. 

“Morning,” you started, smiling up at him. That aching in your chest was still present as you looked at him, though. “So, where are we heading today?”

“Well,” Kylo said, “I figured we could get some Waffle House, and then we can maybe go to Endor?” He offered as he opened up the driver’s door. You opened up the passenger door and climbed into the car, throwing your backpack into the back seat. Kylo settled into the driver’s seat, closing the door behind him and turning the key in the ignition.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you responded as Kylo pulled out of the driveway. Soon, the two of you were out of the neighborhood, and heading to downtown Mos Eisley. Within minutes, the two of you were pulling into the Waffle House parking lot. 

When you walked into the Waffle House, the cold air hit you hard, and you instantly felt like you were freezing. You tried your hardest not to shiver, though, as the two of you walked over to one of the two-person booths. 

“You cold?” Kylo asked the moment you sat down. At that point, you had your arms wrapped around yourself to keep yourself warm.

“Just a little,” you admitted. After you said that, Kylo, without hesitation, removed his jacket and passed it to you over the table. You gratefully took it and pulled your arms through it, the inside still warm from Kylo’s body heat. 

“So, are you glad you’re here and not at Mos Eisley Hell School?” Kylo asked, leaning back in the booth. 

“Definitely. Any day I can go without having to hear someone gossiping about me is a good day,” you said. 

The waitress soon came up and took your drink orders while putting down your silverware. Kylo ordered a black coffee, and you decided to go with a coffee as well, but actually asked for cream. 

“So, what prompted you to want to skip today?” you asked, interlacing your fingers and placing them on the table. 

“I thought it might be nice to not go to school today. Besides, I wanted to spend the day with my best friend,” he responded. Your heart should have soared, but instead it sank. Maybe he did only see you as a friend after all. 

“You, of course, had to have a reason to accept, no?” he asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

“I just didn’t feel like going to school. Also, I’ve never skipped school without being sick before, so this is definitely a new experience for me,” you admitte. Kylo took a sip of his coffee and hummed sagely. 

“I thought so. My prescription is to have some fun for at least your senior year.”

“Well, I’ve already started having more fun since hanging around you and your lot, so I guess you could say I’m taking my prescription responsibly,” you said with a smirk as the waitress walked back over to you. You ordered some eggs, and Kylo ordered a waffle.

“That’s good that we’ve allowed you to walk on the wild side, which reminds me, we need to go to a thrift store today,” Kylo said.

“A thrift store, why?”

“So we can get you a leather jacket! You’re part of the crew now, and it’s about to start getting cold, as it’s almost October. Sami will do the embroidery, she did it for all of ours,” he said enthusiastically. This time your heart did warm up. You were so thankful to have become such good friends with everyone in such a short amount of time, and so glad they accepted you immediately. 

“Or I can just steal yours,” you teased, pulling the jacket closed, causing Kylo to frown. 

“I quite like mine, thank you, but if I must,” he responded dramatically. You started laughing as the waitress laid your food in front of you. The two of you dug into your food, Kylo offering you a bit of his waffle, which you gladly took. Once you’d finished up your food and coffee, you were about to pull out your wallet, but Kylo held up his hand, shaking his head.

“I got it,” he insisted, and you knew there was no point arguing with him, so you waited for him to pay the check before the two of you headed out. Soon, the two of you were headed for Endor. 

The ride there was peaceful as always, as you watched the trees become thicker, and the amount of cars on the road become sparse. You tried your hardest to keep your eyes on the scenery, but every once in a while, you’d glance over at Kylo, watching his face as he focused on the road ahead, tapping his fingers along to the music he was playing. You felt your breath leave your lungs the more you thought about how beautiful he really was, but you had to subtly shake those thoughts from your mind. You were just friends, you had to remind yourself. You couldn’t risk that, no matter how you felt. 

Soon, the two of you were pulling up to the booth. Kylo rolled down his window, pulling out the five dollar bill to pay for parking. 

“Ah, hello again you two. Shouldn’t you be in school?” Mr. Antilles said with a grin on his face. 

“Senior skip day. We decided some time out in nature would be good for us,” Kylo said with a matching grin. Mr. Antilles simply shook his head before taking Kylo’s dollar, and then handed him the dashboard paper for his daily parking. Kylo then smiled and waved as he proceeded into the parking lot. Once he was parked, he cut off the engine, then stepped out of the car, you following in his lead.

Like last time, you let Kylo, even though you knew exactly where you were going this time. It was nice to let Kylo lead you away, to watch as he ambled through the ferns and other brush on the barely visible path. It almost felt like something from a dream, especially now that some of the trees were starting to show the early signs of fall, their leaves yellowing slightly, a few littering the ground and creating a satisfying crunch each time they were stepped on. Soon, the two of you were at the boulder, and Kylo heaved himself on, staring out at the gorge. You sat down beside him, breathing in the fresh air as you looked at the treetops, admiring the mix of green, yellow, orange, and red. Something about this place always gave you an immense sense of calm.

“Hey, (y/n)?” Kylo said from beside you. You turned to look at him, and he was looking down at his hands. “What I said yesterday? I was lying.”

You felt your hold body freeze. “What do you mean?” Surely he couldn’t mean what you were thinking? 

“When I told you that kiss didn’t mean anything to me. It meant so much, and I wish I had just told you outright that it did, but I was scared,” he admitted. You felt your heart begin to beat faster, and tears began to gather at your eyes, but not from sadness “I was worried you’d only want to be friends, especially after Shawn, but I saw the look in your eyes, and then I wasn’t sure.”

You couldn’t help yourself as you wrapped your arms around Kylo, practically sobbing onto his shoulder in relief. Kylo was shocked for a moment, but then he wrapped his arms around you as well, though he was laughing instead of crying. 

“I guess that means you don’t want to just be friends?”

“No, you fucking idiot,” you said before letting go of him, and then grabbing his face in your hands, bringing him in for a kiss. When you did, Kylo slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you in closer, then resting his hand on the small of your back. Every moment of his lips on yours made your heart feel like it was soaring in the sky and over the gorge, and you never wanted to come down again. 

Once the two of you pulled away from each other, you looked into each other’s eyes, and you were mesmerized as you saw the glossy sheen of tears over Kylo’s beautiful brown eyes. You ran a hand through his hair before coming in again to hug him, wrapping your arms around his waist, taking in his warmth. 

“I was so afraid you just wanted to be friends, too,” you admitted, sniffling from your tears. 

“So we’re both idiots?”

“Yeah, we are.”

The two of you held each other as if, if either of you let go, the other would disappear forever. You were so lost in the moment, the only thing to break it was the buzzing of your phone in the jacket pocket. With a sigh, you pulled away from Kylo, and then pulled your phone out.

Where are the two of you? Sami had sent. 

We decided to skip today, Details to come later, you responded. 

“Sami?” Kylo asked, looking down at his phone. “She texted me, too. I’m supposed to be in class with her right now.” You chuckled, and then the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. You laced your fingers in between Kylo’s, and then laid your head against his shoulder, staring out to the scenery.

“So, I guess you’re officially my girlfriend now?” Kylo asked, resting his head atop yours. 

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you responded, unable to hide your grin. 

After a while more at Endor, the two of you decided to go ahead and go to the thrift store, and then grab some lunch. Now that the two of you were official, a heaviness seemed to lift from the air. You felt free, as if allowing yourself to be interested in Kylo was the catalyst to finally letting yourself do whatever the hell you wanted. You’d allowed yourself to be so caught up in what everyone else wanted, and now that you were doing things for yourself, you felt free, like a bird floating on a summer breeze. It was probably the best feeling of your life.

When you got to the car, Kylo turned up the music loud, singing along and encouraging you to do the same. You couldn’t keep down your laughter as you watched him enthusiastically sing along to the music.

The thrift store Kylo took you to was in downtown Mos Eisley, in a shopping district. Around it were a couple of cafes, and a nice little bookstore as well, all quaint little stores. This time of day, there were only a few cars passing by, but you imagined it would be busier once school let out. Kylo pulled into the public parking, and then paid to park for thirty minutes, and then the two of you headed to the thrift store, your fingers entwined. Now that the sun was shining, and it was closer to noon, you were getting a little warm in Kylo’s jacket, but you were hesitant to take it off, mostly because you didn’t want to carry it, but also because you enjoyed wearing Kylo’s things. 

When the two of you entered the store, you looked around, in awe of the different vintage clothes on display. Kylo took you out of your trance, though, as he tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the jackets. 

“Ok, black is traditional, but if you want to get a flight jacket, I won’t judge,” Kylo teased, causing you to push him gently. 

“Black works fine, thank you,” you said as you skimmed, trying to find a jacket in your size. It didn’t take long before you were pulling one off the rack, showing it to Kylo. He smiled and nodded, bringing you over to the cash register, where he paid for the jacket. You insisted on paying for it yourself, but Kylo refused.

“The person who tells about the jacket buys the jacket. For example, I bought Milo’s, and he bought mine, because we first thought of the jackets. Then, Milo bought Sami’s, and then he bought Alan’s, and I bought Phasma’s. It’s tradition, one that you’re a part of now,” he said, handing some cash to the cashier. You smiled as she handed you the paper bag with the jacket inside. 

As you walked out the thrift store, you were about to head towards the car when Kylo stopped you, pulling you back and bringing you in front of the window to the thrift store. You looked at Kylo, who was facing you, as if purposely trying to face away from something. When you made eye contact, he pointed to something behind him. As you tried to subtly look around him, you noticed why he’d stopped.

Sitting at one of the cafe tables was Pat, and he was sitting with Shawn and Stella. 

[ahgasescenarios]

Corrupting the Innocent Pt. 4- Dong Sicheng

Word count: 1.8k

Genre: angst

Plot summary: In which (Y/N) decides to “help” innocent exchange student Sicheng win over his crush. Except she has ulterior motives and Sicheng is too clueless to notice.

 If Sicheng was the first guy you had taken such a strong interest in, he was also the only one capable of making your stomach churn as it had after Rosé’s update on their date. You weren’t accustomed to guilt, but it was now marking its territory, making itself known to you. And you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last you’d see of the emotion. Sicheng had been MIA after the date, you hadn’t heard as much as a peep from him since.

 When you woke that morning, you pushed the covers back over your head and delayed reality for just a little while longer. You half-heartedly made your way to your solace, coffee. Your measured cup of comfort was gone before you knew it, warming up your insides on this cold, rainy day. You looked outside, a distant look about you. If someone were to look, they might say there was a tinge of nostalgia to your features. But nobody was looking.

It wasn’t the best day to be running errands, but here you were debating between two flavors of ramen noodles. After deliberation, kimchi was declared victorious and with a grocery bag full of goods, you walked back to your dorm, whistling absentmindedly.

 “(Y/N).” You looked up at the call of your name, the sight of Sicheng baffling you. He looked different. More serious, if that was possible. His lips were pursed sternly as though he was a parent on the verge of grounding his child. His attire made him look a few years older than he was.

“Sicheng.” Was all you could muster up. He gestured for you to talk inside and you complied. Only when he was seated comfortably on your couch did he speak up.

“Sorry I haven’t been in touch; I needed some time to think.”

“Is everything okay?” You asked, putting away your groceries in the next room.

“Yeah, I just had some things I needed to deal with on my own.” He smiled. Not so genuinely.

“Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do.” And surprisingly enough, you meant it.

“Thanks. Hey, are you doing anything today?” He pondered.

“Not really. You?”

“Would you want to grab lunch with me?” You quirked an eyebrow but accepted the offer.

Once you had changed into nicer clothes, you let him guide the way to his favorite Chinese restaurant. He was glowing when you stepped inside like he was exactly where he was supposed to be at that moment. The smile Sicheng bore from ear to ear was telling enough as he ordered for the both of you in fluent Chinese. Not once did he indulge in small talk, Sicheng was one of the few people who asked questions and cared to hear the answer. And because you were in a good mood that day, you let yourself reveal more than you were usually comfortable sharing. The conversation had somehow floated back to your family history.

“Is that why you have trouble letting people in?” You were taken aback.

“I guess it is, I haven’t had great experiences with people so I tend to keep my guards up.” You forced a smile and he got the hint, moving on to a different subject.

The following weeks were spent mostly in the presence of Sicheng, venturing to different restaurants and locations to spend time together. You were comfortable around him and that was saying a lot for you. Maybe it was the way he seemed to understand without you having to utter a word, or maybe it was how getting to know him had unlocked an entirely different side of him that kept you wanting to know more. Whichever it was, your original plan had slowly faded into memory. The lessons had been put on hold indefinitely and when you pondered about his crush on Rosé, the most you got out of him was a shrug. It was a thing of the past, then.  

 Today’s “friend date” had taken the form of McDonald’s, a much-needed escape from the confines of your apartment. You felt so cooped up in there, a big, juicy BigMac was perhaps the only way to get you in a better mood. But you could tell something was off with Sicheng today, he seemed distant- almost as though he was keeping something from you. He walked you home uncharacteristically silent and you drifted into your thoughts, wondering what could be on your friend’s mind.

 You were already inside, waiting to bid him goodbye when something came over him- maybe this was what he had been holding back before. His feet acted before his mind could protest, he grabbed your face between his hands and crashed his lips on yours. You reciprocated the kiss; you had taught him well. You thread your fingers in his hair, pulling only to deepen the kiss. His hands found your waist again and he pulled you towards him so your bodies were flush against each other.

“What did you do that for?”

“I wanted to.” He stated matter-of-factly. “You know, to practice.” He blurted out, but you didn’t buy it one bit. “Well, if it’s in the name of practice, I have another lesson for you.”  You toyed with him, gauging how far he’d take this.

“Sit on the couch.”

He did, like an obedient puppy.

“Now that you’ve mastered kissing, I think it’s time you master making out, yeah?” He gulped as you made your way over to him.

“Yeah.” Was all the confirmation you needed before you straddled his waist, moving your hair to one side tantalizingly slow so he was watching your every move.  

“Now, what you’ll want to do is either A) rest your hands here,” you moved his hands to your waist, “or B) here,” you moved his hands lower so they were a squeeze away from grabbing your ass. His eyes widened. You smirked back up at him as you got settled in his lap. His hands rested where you had left them, showing no signs of budging. B it was.

“And when you’re making out, there’s going to be more tongue, still good?” He nodded vehemently. Gee, someone was eager. And it wasn’t you, how the tables had turned.

You leaned in and he met you halfway, lips colliding in a heated kiss. You played with his hair while he didn’t shy away from grabbing your ass like you had instructed him to. He was even guiding your hips, so you were grinding him. You made out until you felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen and your lips were swollen in the most delicious way which was when you deemed it long enough to conclude the “lesson”.  

“How was that?” You inquired.

“Good, yeah.” He seemed slightly uncomfortable and as you shifted in his lap, you could feel why that was.

“Oh.” You smirked at him and he blushed a deep crimson, the memory of how shy he originally was resurfacing. You stood up and within the blink of an eye, a pillow was hiding his prominent arousal.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower if you want anything make yourself at home.”

You need space after that stunt, and you figured a shower would make for a good enough excuse. You had envisioned that making out with Sicheng would feel good, but butterfly-flutteringly good? You hadn’t seen that one coming. But the way he had been kissing you, so genuinely told a different story. And you had never felt more desired than when his instincts took over and started guiding your hips to his growing bulge, desperate for more. Lust at its finest. It had your mind going to filthy places and your self-control faltering. As these new feelings of lust and love intertwined with each other in your brain, you scrubbed any physical evidence off of yourself.

 Sicheng was still frozen in the living room, finally getting up once his situation was taken care of. He felt the need for a pick-me-up and his trained eyes spotted your coffee machine from a mile away, that would do. He sang tunes to himself as he gave the machine something to do, brought out from his reverie by what he thought was someone texting him. He checked his phone, nothing. He skimmed the rest of the kitchen, eyes landing on your phone. He walked over, meaning to tell you who had left you a message until his eyes landed on your phone, more precisely on the words displayed across the screen.

Rosé: How’s it going with Sicheng? Gotten him in bed yet? 😉

His eyes must’ve been deceiving him, you wouldn’t do that to him. He blinked a million times in a desperate attempt to convince himself that he hadn’t read that right. But it was becoming convincingly harder to deny what was right in front of him. You picked just this moment to walk back in. The look on Sicheng’s face alone was enough for you to know something was wrong, very wrong.

“What the hell is this, (Y/N)?” He shoved your phone in your face accusingly and as you read your screen, your heart dropped.

“Sicheng, I can explain.”

“How the fuck could you possibly explain that?”

This was bad, really bad. You knew Sicheng didn’t get angry easily, but here he was smoke coming out of his ears and it was all your fault. Your phone was still in his hand and when you fell silent, he scrolled up. His eyes skimmed over your prior conversation with Rosé, it did nothing to calm his overflowing anger. You stood there with your head down, you should’ve known he was going to find out. Naively, you had hoped you’d be the one to tell them when the time was “right”.

“A game? Is that all I am to you?” He breathed through gritted teeth. “Even now? Jesus (Y/N), how could you?” The look of disdain that was directed at you made you feel worse about yourself than you ever had.

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“You’re sorry! Yeah, ‘cause that’ll fix everything. How could you do this? I thought we were friends, at the very least. But this- you’re something else (Y/N).”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I’d catch feelings for-“

“Oh, cut the bullshit. You knew damn right what you were doing and you’re only apologizing now because I found out.” He shook his head at you. “You disgust me.”

And with those last words echoing in your mind as though they were the only words to exist, he stormed out. It took a while for you to move out of the spot he had left you in. Your heart felt like it had been shattered by a hammer and only then did you allow yourself to admit that somewhere along the line, you had felt more than just lust towards Sicheng. But it was too late to think about that now because you had just ruined everything.

___________________________________________________

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

a/n: it’s ya girl again back at it with another part to this story! thank u to everyone supporting this story, it means the world to me that you guys enjoy the work of my imagination:) I’m ngl it feels really good to write again and I’m rlly glad to have a platform for ppl to read if they want u know. Okay im rambling thanks for reading ily, be well xx

[overdrivels]

Impressions

Man, I think this’ll be the first time I write something using pronouns of my own accord. I don’t know if anyone’s ever noticed, but I’ve worked actively in most of my writings here (and in TWtaH) to never allude to gender or physical appearance. Forgive me just this once, I really want to indulge.

I didn’t proofread this, I just wanted to fight writer’s block and write something really, really self indulgent. I’m really not strong enough to abstain or to control my own bullshit. It’s like 4k of unorganized thoughts loosely strung together.

——

You came to the Watchpoint one chilly summer night, wearing a proud grin that the heavy pelting rains could not wash off. The upward turn of your lips stood out in sharp contrast to the deep droop of your loose clothes, more vessels for water than for you. Over the sounds of thunder you had boldly declared to everyone who came to see who was so brave and foolish as to come during this weather: “I’ve come to save you from yourselves.”

First impressions are everything, the clan had taught him that. But Overwatch taught him people are more than their first impressions. 

Hanzo’s impression of you, the first (tracking mud and rain water on freshly cleaned floors), second (curled in the corner of the kitchenette, asleep and blocking the way to the kettle), and onward (not bothering to change after spilling coffee all over yourself, sleeping just anywhere you please and on anyone you please and at any time you please), was as lousy as the last.

‘Slovenly’ would be a good word to describe you and the way you carry yourself. Everything you did was haphazard and barely put together in the way that Hanzo would've been scolded and beat for as a youth.

Placed side-by-side, it's clear you're exact opposites. Hanzo, while approaching the end of his midlife crisis at a breakneck speed, still maintained some of the decorum that shadowed the immaculate side of himself that he had worn everyday for most of his life. You, on the other hand, looked like you rolled out of bed regardless of occasion without a care in the world or for how anyone might see you. It vexes him that people could call you a 'hero' or find comfort in your existence looking and acting the way you do.

Even McCree and the Junkers have more tact than you who sits in on the meeting in your pajamas and a crumpled parka meant to cover the fact that you were not wearing proper pants. At least they look battle-ready. You look like you're four seconds away from rolling back into bed.

"--we will require everyone's attendance. There will be many dignitaries present,”--Hanzo does not miss the way Winston seems to look at you—“so we ask you please be on your best behavior. The dress code is, of course, white-tie formal, though your tie may be whatever color you wish." 

Winston chuckles a bit at his own joke, though it falls flat in the face of everyone else who seems more dismayed than anything at having to attend a formal party doing, arguably, the opposite of their jobs. 

Hanzo can't help but glance over at you. Your head rests precariously on your palm, elbow threatening to slip out from beneath the weight. You're barely even trying to pay attention. 

The thought sends an exasperated fire through Hanzo's veins and he forces himself to look away. His old habits of correcting people and instilling discipline were coming back to haunt him in spades. If he keeps paying too much attention to your lackadaisical manner, he fears he'll lose all the progress he's made since he's joined Overwatch--he'll relapse and soon have a sword in hand again. 

Luckily neither of your paths crossed often. He still has no idea what you do. Your hours are unusual. You do not go on missions with them. You do not participate in combat drills. You do not voice your opinion on anything during meetings and no one mentions your seemingly lack of participation. Instead, you’re usually locked in your own room or get chauffeured around by Lena, disappearing for weeks at a time before returning with things like a golf bag or suitcase meant for vacationing. It's unclear how you're meant to 'save them from themselves' when you do nothing of value in the first place. 

It’s good that he barely sees you except for times like these when everyone’s collective presence is required. Neither of you have so much as exchanged more than a sentence, but he’s overheard you jabbering once or twice that didn’t change his mind that you were useless and an irritating existence. 

Beneath his skin, the dragons draw a slow, undulating spiral. Restless, but comfortable, drawing his attention away from the reminder that he is still no better of a person than he was before. 

Winston explains the expected attendees of the party. All of them are high-profile figures with significant influence over their own spheres of influence. There are specific people he would like them to get on good terms with: the head of the United Nations; leaders of specific human rights movements; leaders of countries with pro-omnic rights. All agents should remain in groups and only designated people should seek conversations with specified individuals.

The most important thing is to project the image that Overwatch is back and united. Gaining support is just a parallel mission. 

Everyone is dismissed, the weight of the briefing dragging down their moods. It’s a high stakes mission with a lot of risk. Throwing all of them unsupervised and untrained into this situation is too reckless.

For the sake of Overwatch, he hopes you'll at least wear something appropriate. Watching you leave the meeting with your lazy shuffling, and shoulders slumped to the point your parka is struggling to remain on your person, he has some serious reservations.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Lucio delicately readjust your parka like you’re a child to be looked after. The DJ had mentioned he took care of kids in his neighborhood--a natural big brother figure--so it’s natural for him to notice such things and take it into stride. Even so, there’s a limit to these activities.

You're an adult. He does not know your exact age, but he knows you should be old enough to not require the pampering of others. Snorting to himself, he turns away, determined not to let your existence bother him. 

But that proves difficult. 

The day of the party looms over everyone’s heads, rapidly drawing near. Tensions are palpable. Agents run to and fro, fretting over what is appropriate to wear and how to act that wouldn’t embarrass or threaten Overwatch’s existence. 

While Hanzo isn’t worried about how to act during the party, one thing does weigh on his mind. You. 

He hadn’t seen you since that meeting ended, explaining the party, and it’s already the eve of. He was too busy helping the other agents figure out their attires and manners to care, but now that most of that is sorted, he realizes he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of you. 

It’s not that he cares. He doesn’t. Not about you anyway. 

Winston tells him, “She’ll meet us at the party, not to worry. Her current mission will end just as the party starts."

"Current mission? I was not aware she did any work." If Winston noticed the amount of malice in those words, he didn't say anything about it. Ana, though, laughs into her hand. 

"Oh yes, she does a lot for Overwatch. Not that you and everyone else doesn't, of course! Her activities are a little different than ours, so I haven't had a chance to pair her with anyone here so far. But rest assured, everyone is doing their parts to help."

It doesn't answer his question and Hanzo's not sure if Winston is being purposefully evasive. Not that the scientist has a single deceitful bone in his large body. 

"And what exactly does she do?" 

"Now, now. Let's save that for later." Ana steps in between them both. "We have other things to worry about. Did you study up on your target?"

"Of course." 

He's memorized the dossier on the person he is supposed to make contact with at the party. She is the head of a for-profit charity organization. While her operations are small, they receive a considerable amount of support and boast of a large network of benefactors that Overwatch themselves can benefit from. He has no plans to mess this up. 

"Very good. You're dismissed then." There's a hardness to her eye that forbids any further backtalk and Hanzo has no choice but to withdraw and ponder on the nature of your job. 

In the end, he has to believe that you wouldn't be an embarrassment to Overwatch, especially not during their first public debut. No matter how unkempt you are normally, he knows you take your job seriously. Winston said as much and Hanzo has never once actually heard anyone complain about you. It's the only reason his irritation hasn't gotten the better of him. 

—

The party itself is rather impressive, on par with the ones that he attended when he was still considered the scion of the Shimada clan. The hall is large and well decorated with arched ceilings and a live orchestra filling every crevice with music. 

Paparazzi are ready for them, swarming immediately as soon as they step out of their rented hoverlimo. It takes the combined efforts of himself, McCree, Fareeha, Zarya, Roadhog, and Soldier: 76 to part the crowd and get into the venue.  

Many of the guests are distinguished. Hanzo recognizes many of them as leaders of countries, a few as CEOs of national companies, A-list celebrities and holovideo personalities. Overwhelmingly political, though. 

Dr. Zhou seems uncomfortable with the attention, shying away from conversation and making herself as small as possible. Winston is right beside her, equally awkward despite the gungho attitude he had about it in the beginning. At least they have Zarya and Fareeha with them to detract from any unwanted conversation. 

Surprisingly, Reinhardt and Soldier: 76 blend right into the crowd, making pleasantries like it’s second nature. Even Ana is taking a large brunt of conversations relating to Overwatch, stepping in gracefully when needed, standing down and merely watching with an unapproachable aura when she wasn’t. 

There are others who seem to disappear in the crowd. Satya, Genji, and McCree all seem to have made themselves scarce. Not that he has any room to talk--he’s made himself a home behind one of the many pillars in the back of the hall where he has a great view of most of the venue.  

Everyone else is prim and proper and their suits and dresses as though it didn’t take them all about six hours to get ready. 

In the back of his mind, he thinks it would be better if you couldn’t make it. 

Not even an hour into the party, some commotion by the door catches his attention. Paparazzi, likely sensing the presence of a scoop, all swarm toward the arching entryway, excited murmurs buzzing throughout the hall. What could possibly get the attention of all these vultures?

He's half-curious, but he suddenly has his hands full running after Junkrat who decides he no longer likes his bowtie or the fact that the first four buttons of his shirt are closed. 

It takes him a little while with McCree’s and Zenyatta’s help to calm Junkrat down--and he never realized just how tall the man was until he had to wrestle the Junker to the ground. By the time he’s done fixing himself up, the paparazzi crowd has dispersed and his hand is now occupied with champagne instead of rowdy children. He scans the crowd, seeking out his target for sweet talking. 

But someone else catches his eye. 

A figure in a dress no more fancier or elegant than any other attendee’s, but there’s just something about how the person holds themselves that gives him pause and puts him on edge as though the claws of a particularly dangerous animal were pressed against his neck. 

Hanzo damn near drops his champagne glass in surprise when he’s able to put a name to the face. 

It's you.

He has to do a double take and squint. 

No, he has to be dreaming. This is a dream. 

But no matter how much blinked or tried to clear his vision, you remain with the exception that you are more regal and composed than any time he's ever seen you. It's as though he's never known you at all. And maybe he doesn’t. 

At his elbow, McCree whistles, catching your attention. Even your smile is refined, thinned and polite. You seem to politely fend off all the interested parties with ease and make your way over, shoulders held back and chin lifted, each step sure and crisp. Even your footsteps radiated authority and an unshakeable confidence not normally found in your daily life. 

Up close, he can see you put immense thought into your appearance. Your make-up is sharp and meticulous. The dress is well suited to your figure and skin. Everything is composed to give you a fierce presence that cannot be ignored even by laymen. If he had to put your appearance into one word, it would be “beautiful”. 

Why you never pay attention to your appearance normally is beyond him. 

"You clean up nicely," McCree remarks as he hands you an extra glass of champagne. Gingerly, you take it between your fingers, tilting your head just so in appreciation with the crinkle of your eyes to match. Natural, but calculated. "What's your secret?"

Simply, you reply, "I had help.” Then: “You look great, yourself. I’m not sure if I like the rugged look or this side of you more. Both are handsome.” 

“Much obliged.” 

Clinking your glasses together, you raise yours at Hanzo. Autopilot kicks in and Hanzo politely meets your glass with his. Words escape him and a sip of champagne fills the void.

It cannot be you. You, who shows up to meetings in pajamas. You, who slouched on every sittable surface like it was your personal couch. You, who can’t even be bothered to put your clothes on right without someone else fixing it for you. 

But you’re right here, making small talk with McCree like you were meant to. 

“Hanzo, you look great, too. Very gorgeous.” 

“Not as much as you,” he responds almost automatically. He clenches his jaw and hopes that he doesn’t look as panicked as he feels. This situation is just too strange. 

Your eyes twinkle and you laugh. It sends a shiver down his spine. The sounds of something dangerous draws near and the sense of danger against his back presses itself harder against him. “Silver tongues everywhere. But I appreciate it. How are you enjoying the party?” 

“As much as anyone else.” 

“Not at all, then.” 

“Come on, when are we ever going to have such fancy food?” McCree says, waving at the trays of hor d'oeuvres being carted around by bots. 

“Soon, if our mission goes well.” 

Again, you give him a look that he’s wary of. 

Just what have you been doing all this time to be able to look like this? You seem to have no problems blending in to the crowd here as though you belonged with them. If he didn’t know you were a part of Overwatch, he would’ve mistaken you for a target. 

He’s reminded of the few mafia bosses he’s met in life who would greet him wearing jinbei instead of the expensive suits Hanzo was accustomed to seeing. People with so much power that they don’t care about appearances anymore-they have nothing to prove to anyone. 

Are you the same? Or was the Watchpoint just your way of unwinding? 

Soon, Lena and her girlfriend join the conversation. Lena looks delighted at your appearance, a large grin spreading across her face. 

"Lookin' fancy, love. Was wondering if you’d even make it."

"Thank you, Lena. And is this Emily? I've heard so much about you, Lena just won't stop gushing." 

“What does she say?” 

“Hey, hey! Ix-nay on the irlfriendgay.”

Seeing this side of you puts him off kilter. He’s not quite sure how to reconcile the image of you that he’s accustomed to and the person in front of him. He’s used to people hiding their true natures and donning personas, but this contrast is just too jarring.

Luckily, he finds his break when he spies his target and with an “Excuse me” makes his way to her. He doesn’t turn back lest he makes a further fool of himself. 

“Are you enjoying the party, Argus Twenty?” he asks. 

The omnic’s lights blink as though scanning her memory bank for his face, but seemingly comes up empty. “Very much so. And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

“Shimada, Hanzo. Overwatch. At your service.” He bows slightly at the waist. “I have heard a lot about you.” 

“Good things, I hope.”

“Only the best. I’ve been meaning to speak to you about your work and if there was anything Overwatch can do to help. We seem to be of similar ventures.” 

Even without facial expressions, he could tell she’s smiling. “In that case—” 

It’s much easier than he expects to talk to her. She’s refreshingly straightforward and objective, presenting her troubles and solutions with tact. He even gets her to speak of the power dynamics and relationships in her organization, and how they could help each other. 

Somehow, he feels like he already knows her. 

The time passes easily (as does his mission). 

When Argus leaves, she gives him her business card, inviting him to the restaurant that is the organization’s main headquarters. Hanzo promises to visit to further build on this relationship. Now he can tell Winston they’ve secured another means to support. Another job well done.

As he searches for Winston, he sees suspicious movements from the corner of his eye. It’s Mei and Hana, cornered by someone who looks to be twice their age combined. He can’t exactly see who it is, but he can tell the two are uncomfortable. 

"I want to hear all about it. My villa is open to you ladies anytime."

“Thank you, we’ll have to check our schedules.”

“Oh, but I insist. I’m sure you can free up some time.”

No one else is close enough to interfere. He resigns himself to what would undoubtedly be a difficult time. Squaring his shoulders, he raises his head, donning the air of authority that he once wore like a second skin and makes swift strides toward the trio, fully intending on breaking up the one-sided 'conversation'. 

Someone else bears him to the punch. 

"Have you been hiding from me all night?"

Your smile is dazzling as you smoothly and loudly interject, extend a free hand toward the man. "Mr. Drumph, what about my invitation? We haven't spoken since that time in Washington, beginning to think you've forgotten about me."

The man's face screws up into a tight smile. 

"Long time, my friend!" He grasps your hand with both of his, giving it a firm shake. "Was just inviting these ladies to my villa. Great views. Great food. Nothing better. You’re invited, too, of course."

“Of course. When’s a good time for you? I’m fully booked for the next five months, but I will clear my schedule for you, just tell me when.” 

“You know, if I could just get those lobbyists off my back, I could probably do two weeks from now.”

You tsk, a derisive smile on your face. "From the OmniCore, right? I could lend you a hand, you know. They do owe me for that one case, you know, with LumeriCo?"

"That’s right, LumeriCo. You have connections with them, don’t you?” 

“I can arrange for that right now. Give you some breathing room for a month.” You take out your communicator, already texting. “You know, I remember your golf course is near your villas. I would love for you to show me your short game again. Maybe even invite Sam this time.” 

“Sam? Remind me again...”

“President of HardBank.” A guiding hand turns the man around, gesturing at some vague figure in the crowd. You shoot a look at the frozen Mei and Hana, gesturing with your eyes for them to make their escape. 

The two give you a thumbs up, shuffling away. 

“Oh, yeah, her. She was involved in the acquisition fiasco with BioTech—” 

“We all benefited from it. I think she can lend us a hand this time, too. HardBank’s the main sponsors of OmniCore. I’m sure she can call things off for a bit. Come with me to the bar, I see you could use another drink. Have you ever tried a boilermaker?” 

The two of you slowly start to walk, drifting into the thick of the party like old friends, Mei and Hana quickly forgotten. Hanzo watches as more and more people begin to take notice, likely seeing Mr. Drumph's presence at your side as permission to approach. It’s not long before you’re laughing it up and chatting with other, equally powerful figures. You blend right in with them, feeding them the same poison they dish out. 

The sight is painfully familiar. 

Hanzo stands there, determined not to feel impressed by your handling of the situation and instead goes to check on the two. 

— 

As the party winds down, Hanzo finds you resting in one of the more secluded areas of the venue. Even half-hidden like this, you’re still sitting with your back straight and eyes sharp, ready to jump straight back into the socialite persona you’ve displayed this entire evening. 

Wordlessly, he hands you a juice which you take without looking at him. 

“Thank you.” 

He says nothing, looking down at your head and studying your features. 

Truly. If you dressed like this and acted like this all the time, he wouldn’t have wasted his time worrying about you and the potential shame you would bring upon Overwatch. Now he feels liek a fool for having been concerned in the first place. Winston would not call back anyone who isn’t qualified to do their jobs, and Overwatch, despite being defunct and having lost its way prior to the Fall, did employ some of the most brilliant of each field. It serves to reason that you are no different in that regard. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask quietly.

“Hm. I just was not aware you had experience in something such as politics. It’s a bad hobby.” 

"There is no good or bad in politics. Just self-interests."

"I am inclined to disagree."

"Disagree then. It doesn't change the fact that I get more done at golf courses and resorts than in an office."

"And what exactly have you done for Overwatch?"

You raise a pointed eyebrow as if asking if he were serious. A sly, calculated smile slowly worms its way into your face. There's a new shine in your eyes, mischievous and mocking. 

"If you don't know, then there's no need to worry yourself about it."

Translation: Your lowly rank does not permit you to know. 

Before he has a chance to retort, Winston jumps in, seemingly a little more tipsy than when Hanzo first saw him.

“Please allow me to explain then.” Winston puts his finger in the air. "Overwatch is currently in need of financial and political support. We can continue doing our deeds, but there’s a risk it won’t be perceived well. We needed someone to handle that side for us, hence…” He gestures at you, nearly hitting you in the face, and the party. “All this.”

It's true. None of them are suited for the tedious backdoor dealings of the political world. Hanzo is the closest candidate, but his ties mean nothing here. (Not that he wants them to in the first place.) And he can’t think of anyone else who would be willing to spend the time cultivating these relationships. 

“Cat’s out of the bag then.” You smile that well-practiced smile, swirling your juice. "I've been a political aide for a long time. When Winston asked me to come back, I spent months going around and establishing political ties. Now I handle most of Overwatch's advocacy. Your good deeds will only go so far. To change a corrupt system, it's best to either dismantle it or take control of it."

"And which are you doing?"

The flute touches your lips and your smile turns sly. "Which do you think, Mr. Shimada?" A sip of your drink prevents you from answering. Not that he was expecting it, not after seeing what you do. 

“Hm.”

“Well, don’t worry about it too much. As long as you accomplish your mission, there’ll be plenty of opportunity for you to get involved in mine.” 

You laugh and instantly go back to your professional self, having spotted another target of yours. Excusing yourself, you approach a couple with smooth compliments and sinister whispers as you attempt to secure another backdoor deal. 

Again, Hanzo tries not to be impressed with the words coming out of your mouth and the ease with which you wield these promises. 

Truly, his impressions were wrong. 

— 

Hanzo sees you again at the Watchpoint, weeks after the party. 

You're back to your usual self, dragging a blanket around your waist, probably in lieu of actual pants. Unconsciously, a disgusted noise escapes his throat. But he doesn’t forget that beneath that sloppy facade is the mind of a person willing to put themselves at political risk for Overwatch and that whatever his impressions of you are, they’re wrong.

But it’s hard not to go back to being annoyed with you now that he’s had a glimpse of what you could really be.

First impressions are lasting, after all.