#After stopping T I’ve just lost more and more weight and I haven’t been able to feel my bones like this

[quierd-kitten]

I’ve spent my whole life life with people asking if I have an eating disorder making comments about my eating habits and responding with ‘no, no, I just have a bad relationship with food. It’s not about weight so it’s not an eating disorder. I’m just not hungry/feel sick/don’t like that.”

Heard somebody mention ARFID isn’t like other eating disorders with the weight gain/loss preoccupation and they briefly described it and I just looked it up and ohohoh. Ough.

[pastelpaperplanes]

Big Ol Ask Post Pt. 3 I think

I haven’t drawn anything other than cursed or plain technical stuff w him 😔😔 have these for now but expect more soon!

anon a way back asked what he’d look like next to Overlord being already so big compared to Megs, that’s why you see Lordie if you’re wondering why he’s thrown in that line up!

by the way I have a voice claim for the big purple simp— Jenner from NIMH, he’s so awful but that suave baritone oh it fits too well >:] it’s the ‘humble servant’ line that got to me

Yep! Pharma is absolutely in this AU—as well as the CFau and Crack one too—and in all, he’s still an estranged medic long since booted from any legal work back on Cybertron.

He lost his credibility and more all those years ago when he found himself willing to do his fair share of cutting corners and hastily concealed malpractice to expedite his dream of getting his name down in the medical books—ultimately impressing his dear Mentor Ratchet, finally, in perfecting long-since banned risky experiments and surgeries—not to mention cruel and unusual temperament with the (supposedly) taboo practice of non-medicinal mnemosurgery.

His ambitions and aggression always got the bet of him, this hasn’t changed since he found himself working in freelance outposts. Light years away from Cybertron, he’s made a name for himself as a Good Doctor—but to his under-the-table black market part-dealing clients, he’s just about as bad as a Crooked Medic can get.

Bounty hunters and Arms Dealers like him for his business, a certain DJD member likes him for the occasional berth company and seemingly never ending supply of fresh T-Cogs—but no one actually likes him for his nasty temperamental personality, save for a young and naive Ratchet once upon a time.

Pharma is a roamer, as of recent he’s been a hard to reach mech—seems as if he’s found a little project to keep himself pretty occupied in the last few decades—something about a breakthrough for aiding the Decepticon Energon Crisis :] him and a small, horrifyingly cheerful surgeon are well on their way to completing their first trial batches, it’s safe to say that their little synthetic mixture will have it’s users sated and compliant.

they’ve got that amazing ‘new car smell’ those first few weeks, and instead of chittering like an Insecticons or vibrating their wings like a seeker—they beep and squeak, sometimes even honk a horn depending on the baseline altmode coding, to get their Creators’ attention before their vocalizer truly starts to kick online

It’s cute, but loud

Much like a seeker sparkling, they have to reach a certain ‘age’ (upgrade) to be able to transform completely, in between then they’re still able to rev those engines as a warning should they need it, as well as spin their wheels should they need a getaway HEELIES IF THEYRE LUCKY WOOHOOOOO—for seekers they can hover on their thrusters!

Crusade is actually pretty formal with Megatron. But yeah as a kid, Megs was always known as Carrier, but as Sadie got older and more aware of their surroundings—they definitely came to learn the true weight of that title and the fact that they were the progeny of the faction leader, a fact they should have really held onto with more pride. Not wanting to draw more attention to the already blatant favoritism (and nepotism) Crusade made a switch to addressing Megatron as Sir, My Lord, Lord Megatron, —ect. to better fit in with their fellow troops.

It bothers Megatron more than than he lets on. Crusade shouldn’t have to hide their high ranking as his child, the heir to the faction. Megs is their Carrier and can only order them around for so long, as their Leader however—pulling rank may just allow for their infuriatingly stubborn sparkling to listen to them should a day come where even a Carrier’s plea is dismissed.

Crusade does slip up every now and then and a ‘Carrier’ will slip—often hushed and annoyed though as Megs does like to tease every now and then, gotta remind them that they’re still his baby every once in a while :’)

Optimus however—whenever him and Crusade should truly reunite, will never be called Sire by Crusade, which they so heatedly established early on—Crusade never needed one and they don’t need one now, better to not let the title trigger those long-suppressed emotions. Sure enough though Optimus will get his moment.

actually no lmfao so you’re good! Eh, I haven’t mentioned much plot w them outside of them and Megs, plus bits of potential interactions with Optimus—so the rest of Team Prime is free game :D

For what I (hopefully will have) planned, their interactions with team Prime will be eh,,,interesting to each their own to say the least. Some more stressful than others BUT let’s not get into that until I’ve worked it out—for now I’ll just mention what they’re dynamics would be like when the drama of Oh Shit Boss Bot You’ve Been Hiding a Kid For HOW LONG has died down.

A usually touch-wary Crusade actually is the one to initiate a hug with Bulkhead, he’s the biggest and warmest and somehow is always happy to see them. Plus he tells cool recaps of Earth films and gifts them strange blobish paintings every now and then, all of which Crusade doesn’t exactly understand, but at least the colors are pretty.

Bee is annoying,,,which is what Crusade would say if confronted if they actually liked all the shenanigans Bee suggest they pull together, prank wars to the max, sparring for fun, video games?, DOUGHNUTS and RACES in the fortress halls??? Ahem. they are a super serious soldier, not a hooligan. But honestly, Bee is the one they seek out the most should they need an adventure, they missed out on a lot of this ‘fun’ growing up on the Nemesis—Bee seems to know how to balance a day of soldiering and dumbassery. sometimes.

Ratchet reminds them a bit too much of their Carrier than they’d care to admit. The medic is an old soul to his very core, perpetually tired but quick to snap into work mode, and sweet if you reallllllly squint. Sadie has been taught from day one to always respect medics, Ratchet obviously takes the cake on I’ve Seen Some Shit and for that alone Crusade both fears and admires Ratchet. Again, growing up on the Nemesis they didn’t have too many bots willing to talk much with them—but Ratchet (after he’s gone through his own lot of therapy, him AND Arcee. good lord) has a never ending pile of stories to share with them. Ratchet may throw in a few more colorful curses than necessary—which is SURPRISING bc Crusade thought they’d heard them all back home, but he’s entertaining and tells Crusade how it is, no sugarcoating. For that Crusade is grateful, there’s been too many half-truths thrown about to them in their recent years :’)

Ghost Prowl freaks them out—why does he deliberately have to be so sneaky?? Crusade has only met Prowl a fleeting handful of times (visits from the Allspark come with meaning, you know) and each time Crusade has been given nothing but odd riddles and poetic nonsense. Kidding. Prowl does like his wordplay’s but his given advice is always well meaning—the most firm and direct message Crusade has been passed though was probably most definitely “ Get those two cowards for mecha you call your Creator’s to stop fooling around with each other and SPEAK—at this rate it’s physically paining me that they haven’t begun Ritus and they’re not getting any younger”

Team Prime adores Sadie, they ask Megatron to see their sparkling photos every chance they catch him. And Crusade. hates it.

:) have

We’ve been here before, haven’t we?

[alltooreid]

I Think He Knows

Y/N has a huge crush on Spencer Reid, so huge she embarrasses herself every time she tries to talk to him. She is convinced he is aware to all her pathetic attempts at flirting and just chooses to ignore it, but turns out Spencer may be a little more clueless than she thought.

A/N: Hope yall enjoy this cute fluffy fic! I’ve been having a rough couple of days so writing a fun fluff like this was really comforting :) yes it is inspired by the t swift song, but you don’t need to know the song to read and enjoy! also my requests are open so let me know what you want to see! (also sorry if this is kind of short, but i’ve been super busy and wanted to put something out :)))

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: a cute pining fluff fic

Word Count: 2.3K

Content Warnings: mentions of alcohol, otherwise none.

“He got that boyish look that I like in a man I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands No one understands”

“He has to know Penelope, I’m not exactly subtle.”

You and Penelope spent the majority of your lunch breaks in her office, discussing anything and everything. Recently however, the point of contention had been a certain young genius. One who you had a huge crush on.

“Spencer Reid may be a genius, and one of the best profilers I have ever seen but he most certainly does not know,” she said, as she drizzled more dressing on her salad.

“He has to, it feels like everyone knows. . . Do you think everyone knows?”

She shrugged, “They might, I know my Chocolate Thunder hasn’t picked up on it yet.”

“You haven’t told him? It’s already been a week since I’ve told you! How did you keep it a secret for so long?”

“You asked me very nicely not to tell anyone! Plus this one seems really important to you. I don’t want to go around telling people and for Reid to hear it in office gossip.”

You smiled, “Well you Penelope Garcia are the best, best friend ever.”

“You know it, now I know you desperately want to repay me for my services, and you can by giving me those exact ranch packets you have in your bag,” she said.

“They’re all yours, now let’s discuss something other than my pathetic schoolgirl crush. Like how stupid Kevin’s sweater was today.”

“Kevin? The other internal affairs technical analyst? Yeah what the heck was he wearing?”

“You know, I’m tired of having to carry the weight of the brains, looks and fashion sense out of the two of us,” you said. “Though, that is a good way to gather attention . . . I wonder if Spencer would actually hold a conversation with me if I wore something as ugly as that.”

She laughed, “You know I think that might send you backwards.”

You stabbed your lettuce, “At this point I’ll try anything.”

Before Penelope could respond, someone interrupted your lunch, your only other friend on the BAU team, Emily Prentiss.

“Oh hi Y/N! How are you!”

“I’m good Emily, what kind of gross things are you here to deliver today?” you and Emily joined the FBI at around the same time, and found comfort in the fact that you were both total try-hards. Emily was going to eat lunch with you and your fast friend Penelope, at least on days when she was in the office for lunch, but you and her both agreed that she should eat lunch with the team so that they can get used to having her around.

“Just some paperwork, no cases yet, knock on wood. Also I just wanted to say hello! What are you guys eating?” she asked, pulling up a chair.

“Some salads from that takeout veggie place PG is always talking about. I told you I was going vegetarian right?” “You did not! That’s great Y/N! We need to talk more, like we used to when we first started here,” she sighed, then perked up, “We should have girls night! Remember how fun it was that night at the bar? With Brad the real FBI agent?”

“Yes! We should! You know, Gideon’s replacement comes tomorrow, we should celebrate!” Garcia said.

“You know, I don’t know if the best way to celebrate a new agent is by drinking without them, but I’m down. We’ll toast our girls night to agent Rossi. Someone ask JJ if she’s busy.”

JJ was not busy, but when you and Emily asked, Morgan overheard.

“So am I not invited to the party?”

“Well it was supposed to be girls night . . . but I think PG would throw a fit if I turned down her 2nd favorite person in this building, so I guess you can come,” you teased. “You should come too Spencer!”

“I don’t know, that’s not really my thing . . “

“Oh come on! I know I would love to see you there,” you then realized that you were embarrassing yourself being so forward. “And I’m sure everyone else would too!”

“Alright, I’ll come, but I’m not drinking.” he said firmly. 

Before you could respond, Penelope magically appeared. “Good, you can be completely sober when Y/N gets wasted and embarrasses herself,” she said.

“PENELOPE! I’m not the light weight here! you’ll see Spencer, she’s actually awful. Two shots in and she’ll be on the floor,” this was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Spencer grimaced. “But it’ll be so much fun! You have to be there! You already said yes!”

“I just don’t know if seeing all of my coworkers get drunk while I watch is my idea of a fun evening. . .”

“Trust me! I’ll even stay sober with you, so we can judge them together. It’ll be a blast.”

“Ok, I’ll be there . . . but for now I need more coffee,” he pulled his chair out and walked towards the office kitchen. You silently cheered, forgetting how people were still standing around you.

“Well,” you awkwardly laughed, “um, I guess I better be getting back to my neck of the woods. I’m not a hot shot profiler like the rest of you guys . . . so see you all later!” You tried to escape before anyone interrogated you about your conversation with Spencer. However, a certain profiler followed quickly behind you. 

“So. . . you and pretty boy huh?”

“Shut it Morgan.”

{⋅. ♪ .⋅}

You stayed true to your word that night, Spencer stuck to water and you enjoyed a diet soda. The bartender, who you had grown fairly used to seeing on your many nights out, was shocked to hear you didn’t want any alcohol in it. 

It’s probably a good thing that you didn’t drink, you already embarrassed yourself enough in front of Spencer fully sober.

“So Spencer, you know that new bookstore you said you were going to go to after work a couple weeks ago?”

“New bookstore . . .? Oh yeah! What about it?”

“Well after I heard you talking about it I decided to check it out . . . It’s really nice there! I go like every other night now! We should totally go together sometime.” Luckily, you were sober enough to keep a secret: the fact you were only going so much in the hopes of running into him.

“Oh really? If I’m being honest I wasn’t super impressed with their selection, it was mostly contemporary fiction. And all in English . . . Not really my thing,” when he saw the way your face dropped he quickly changed his tone, “but it’s great if that’s your thing!”

This. Is. Humiliating. The amount of times you had gone and bought books from the bookstore, you were there almost every night hoping to run into him after work and start a conversation. You felt stupid, of course he wouldn’t want to go on a book store date with you. If Spencer Reid didn’t like you so much that he wouldn’t even go to a bookstore with you, there’s no chance at a relationship.

“Oh haha, yeah you’re right it’s totally lame. . .”

“Didn’t you just say you went there all the time?”

“No! When did I say that? You must be drinking Dr. Reid,” you said, quickly hopping off your bar stool, and running towards Morgan and Garcia, not turning around to see how confused Spencer was, but only being able to imagine him as relieved. Relieved he didn’t have to make conversation with you anymore.

“I’m blowing this PG, he totally hates me.”

Morgan laughed, “Y/N, you’re acting silly, this isn’t high school, we aren’t seventeen, stop dancing around it and just go ask him out.”

“Morgan, he doesn’t want to go to a bookstore with me, no way he’s agreeing to a date.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, maybe he’s just not in the mood to go?”

“You go ask him then, 20 bucks he says yes.”

“You’re on Y/N/N.”

7 minutes later Morgan returned and without a word pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and deposited it into your hand. “Sorry, Y/N.”

Penelope then piped up, “I’m telling you Y/N, he just doesn’t know. That boy is clueless.”

You scoffed, “I think he knows Penelope. I’ve made it pretty clear.”

“Have you told him?”

You were thrown off, “Um, no but-”

“Well then you haven’t made it clear enough, have you sugar?”

You almost said something, but you couldn’t really think of a good rebuttal for the argument. So instead, you downed Penelope’s half dranken frozen margarita, and headed back over to Spencer.

“Hey!” he said as you made your way back over, “I was wondering where you went, after you left Derek came over and asked to go to that bookstore with me, isn’t that extraordinary. . .”

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” you blurted out.

“What?”

You sighed, “I’ve had a crush on you since like, forever, and I keep planning all these ways to ask you subtly but it’s just not working so I’m asking now. Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“You like me? I didn’t know that . . .”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not, I thought you were just being nice. You’re nice to everyone and I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

You smirked, “Get your hopes up? Does that mean you’re obsessed with me too Dr. Reid?”

He laughed in response, “Yeah, you could definitely say that.”

You dug through your purse and pulled out your keys, “Ok, then let’s get out of here.”

He paled, “And do what?”

“We’re going on our first date.”

He smiled, and you both got up off your bar stools and headed out the door, ignoring Morgan’s snide remarks as you passed. 

{⋅. ♪ .⋅}

You couldn’t help but smile as you drove. Every couple of seconds you couldn’t help but look over at Spencer, getting lost in his brownish hazel eyes, which looked indigo in the night. He would smile, the kind of smile people write silly little romance songs about and spend verses to describe, and tell you to pay attention to the road before you run off of it. You would laugh, tell him to calm down. Although originally you had an idea of where you were going, now you just wanted to drive in circles, to bask in this memory. 

“So where are we going?” he asked.

“Think about it Doctor Reid . . .” you replied, teasing him in the way you’ve imagined since you met him. 

You pulled up to that little bookstore on 16th avenue, the one you couldn’t stop going to out of the sheer chance Spencer might be there, the one that was obviously closed this late at night, but was too perfect not to spend your first date at. 

“Although this is beautifully symbolic, it’s almost 2 in the morning, this place closes at 8. We’re 5 hours, 49 minutes and 17 seconds late.”

You smiled and pulled out your ring of keys, “You know, when I spent hours a night hanging around here after work, hoping that you would happen to come shop for books and see me here too, the woman who owns this store got pretty curious. So I told her why I was here, and after she got done laughing at me she offered me a key, so that if I ever had the guts to ask you out, I could take you here no matter what.” You turned the key and swung the door open, gesturing him inside and locking the door behind you, “but we have to keep the lights off, so no one comes by and tries to get in.”

You and Spencer sit in the non-fiction section, and enjoy the silence for a few seconds before you have an idea, “Read me something Reid.”

He reached up, pulling a book off of the shelf without looking, “Are you sure, A Brief History of 1491: Life in America Before Columbus, is first date material?”

“Although that book is anything but brief, anything you read to me will sound stunning coming from your pretty mouth.”

So he begins to read, attempting to slow down to a reasonable pace but still going abnormally fast. You didn’t care though, more than you listened to the history of the late fifteenth century you watched Spencer’s hands. They’re really nice hands.

His right followed the words as he read aloud and his left helped hold the book. He wiggled the fingers on his left hand unconsciously as he spoke, getting into the words of the book. 

After about 25 pages he glanced over at you, and you could almost hear the gears turning in his head. After a second he went back to the page, and continued reading. You didn’t think anything of it until a couple minutes later, when his hand made its way to your left thigh.

He held it and you leaned into him, and you both stayed like that until you fell asleep hours later, with his head resting on top of yours. 

At 8:30 Mrs. Betts, the owner of the bookstore, found you and Spencer, arms around each other, the book thrown aside. She smiled, glad to know you had taken her up on her offer. She went to go wake you up but glanced at her watch. She didn’t have to officially open until 10. 

She could definitely spare a couple of minutes. 

“I want you, bless my soul I ain't gotta tell him I think he knows”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

ATR’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies​

[intheticklecloset]

You're the Coolest (Haikyuu!!)

Primary Universe

@happyandticklish We're going back in time again! Consider this a bit of backstory for the events of "Burn Some Calories." I personally really love this one; there's not enough ticklish Noya in the world and he's so dang cute! Thanks so much for the fun prompt! Enjoy! ^^

~

This little first-year was at once making him look really bad and pushing him to do even better.

From the moment he’d introduced himself, Yuu Nishinoya had taken the court by storm. The kid was a natural libero, able to receive and defend better than anyone Asahi had ever known before. His bright smile and outgoing personality lit up the gym, making practice both more fun and more intense as everyone strove to do better, inspired by his energy.

Asahi admired him greatly for that. He, too, promised to work harder and improve in all areas so he could be worthy of sharing the court with Noya. As time went on, though, he found that it didn’t seem to matter how hard he worked; the first-year was always several steps ahead of him. While Daichi, Suga, and the others began to serve better, block better, and spike better, he himself – the ace of the team – remained steadfast in doing just as well as he always had. Sure, every practice was helping him improve, but only marginally compared to his teammates. Noya was always smiling and encouraging, but Asahi felt more and more like he was being left behind, and the weight was crushing him.

All of that changed one night after practice.

“All right, guys,” the captain announced, “time to call it a day. First-years, clean up. Second-years, put the gear away.”

Everyone shouted their affirmation and scattered to do as they were told.

Noya came bounding up to him, grinning. “You were great today, Asahi! You’ve been working on your serves, right? I can tell.”

Asahi gave him a tired smile. “You don’t have to do that, Noya.”

“Huh? Do what?”

“Act like I’m making such great progress.” Asahi gripped the ball he was holding before tossing it into the bin nearby. “I’m obviously not.”

“Sure you are.” Noya looked up at him, eyes wide and earnest. “If I’m having to work harder to receive them, that means you’ve been working harder to improve them. It’s logic.”

“That’s more a testament to how amazing you are than anything.”

“You think I’m amazing?”

Asahi looked down at his underclassman, astonished. “Of course I think that. You are amazing, Noya.”

Noya beamed, gently pushing his fist into Asahi’s chest. “You’re amazing, too, ace.”

“Not compared to you. You’re so…so energetic and adaptive and tough, and I’m…I’m none of those things.”

“Tough? I’m not tough,” Noya laughed. “You’re the tough one.”

Asahi tossed another volleyball into the basket. “Yeah, right.”

“You are!”

“Noya!” Tanaka snapped from the supplies closet. “A little help would be nice!”

“Hang on a second, Tanaka,” the libero called back. “I’m giving a pep talk here.” He turned to look up at Asahi again. “You’ve got to believe in yourself more, dude. I can see you’re improving. All of us can. Why can’t you?”

“Sure, I’m improving. Just not enough.”

“Everyone moves at their own pace.”

“I’ll never be as awesome as you.”

Noya frowned, and the look was so unusual for him that it gave Asahi pause. “I’m not as invincible as you think I am, Asahi. I’ve got weaknesses, too.”

“I have yet to see one.”

“Where do I start? My test scores are average at best, I’m total crap at serving – kind of why I chose to play libero, honestly. Oh, and don’t get me started on my luck with girls—”

“I meant physically,” Asahi said quickly, putting an end to that train of thought. “Physical weaknesses. On the court. I haven’t seen any.”

Noya hesitated for a moment, suddenly looking embarrassed. He glanced around to make sure no one was listening in, then lowered his voice. “Look, I’ll admit something to you, because you need the encouragement and I trust you. But you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone else, okay?”

Asahi swallowed, nodding.

“I’m ticklish,” Noya said quickly, cheeks turning pink as he spoke. “Like, stupidly ticklish. One poke and I’m completely useless.”

Asahi stared at him. He scanned him up and down, his mind automatically filling in the blanks. Ribs, sides, waist, knees. All places he’d attack first if he were to tickle Noya. Not that he was going to, of course. Not after the libero had specifically said he trusted him.

“Oh,” he said at last, voice soft. He blinked, straightened. “Well…I suppose that counts.”

“Nishinoya!” Tanaka yelled.

Noya whirled around and ran to him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!”

Asahi watched him go, then blindly – as if in a daze – picked up the rest of the volleyballs and helped take down the net, putting it away for the night. Ticklish, he thought, and that was all he could think. Noya’s ticklish. Noya’s ticklish. Noya’s ticklish.

Once the gym had been cleared up and cleaned up and the captain had locked the doors, Noya found Asahi again, prancing up to him as if it was the first time he’d seen him all week. “So, feeling better now, ace?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess so.” Asahi took one glance at the libero’s smiling face and lost all control. He wanted to see that smile more. Wanted to make him smile like that more. He was dying to hear what Noya sounded like when he was tickled. So, in a flash, he grabbed the little first-year’s sides and squeezed.

As promised, Noya immediately burst into giggles and crumpled to the ground, his legs giving out beneath him. “Nohohoho, Asahi!” he pleaded, holding up his hands defensively as the ace knelt down to join him and dug in again, more purposefully this time. “Nahahahahahahahaha! P-Please, I tohohohhohold you, I’m reheheheheheally ticklihihihihish!”

“You had to know I’d want to see for myself,” Asahi countered, beaming at the adorable sight but lightening his touch slightly.

“Ahahahahahahahaha! Sehehehehehee?! I’m n-nohohohohohot so tohohohohough, am I?”

“You’re the toughest person I know, Noya.” Asahi snatched up both of his wrists and held them above his head, using his free hand to wiggle his fingertips into the grooves of the libero’s ribcage. Noya spasmed, laughter spilling out of him faster than he seemed able to keep up with. “You’re just a sensitive guy, that’s all.”

“Tehehehehehell that to the lahahahahahahadies!” Noya retorted, squealing when Asahi found the backs of his ribs and kneaded there. He tossed his head back and laughed unguarded. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Part of Asahi thought he should stop, but another, stronger part of him found that he simply couldn’t. Noya losing control of himself like this was just so…so unprecedented and unusual, not to mention the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He swung a leg over to pin his thighs down and dug in a little harder, enjoying the shriek he got in response.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE, ASAHIHIEHEHEHEHE!!” Noya begged, smiling uncontrollably as mirth burst out of him in helpless waves. “STOP, PLEHEHEHEHEASE, I CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IT!!”

“You’re really ticklish, huh, Noya?” Asahi asked, half-teasing, half-serious. He trailed his fingers down to the libero’s belly and scribbled there. “It’s kind of cute.”

“SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT UP!! I’M NOT CUHUHUHUHUHUHUTE!!” Noya insisted even through his frantic cackling and squirming. “I’M THE COHOHOHOHOHOOL, CONFIDENT LIHIHIHIHIHIBERO!!”

Asahi laughed with him at that. “Oh, are you, now? Not so cool and confident when I’ve got you pinned down like this, hmm?” He poked at Noya’s belly button, chuckling at the “eep!” he got as a reward. “Let’s see. Where’s your worst spot?”

“HAAH?!” Noya made a distressed noise through his giggling, twisting every which way under Asahi’s grasp. “N-Nohohoho, no, plehehease don’t, I cahahahahan’t take it! Reheheheheally!”

“I haven’t even found it yet!”

“Y-You wihihihihihill,” Noya replied, sounding nervous, his eyes panicked. “T-Then you’ll nehehever want to stop. Nohohoho one ever dohohoes.”

At that, Asahi pulled back, releasing Noya entirely as he climbed off of him. He frowned. “Whoa, dude, I’m sorry. Is this…is this traumatic for you?”

“No,” Noya groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes, still laying on the ground. “It’s just…I’ve got this reputation, you know? You were telling me yourself that you think I’m some awesome, unbeatable volleyball star. I…I like being cool like that. And this undermines that coolness.”

“Then why did you tell me?” Asahi asked. “If you were worried it would ruin your reputation?”

“Because it’s you,” Noya said, uncovering his eyes to look at him. “I trust you.”

I trust you. Those words again, with more meaning this time. Asahi smiled at him. “Then do you believe me when I say I’ll never tell anyone else about this? I’ll preserve your reputation. Don’t worry.”

“But…” the libero looked away, seeming embarrassed again. “My worst spot makes me sound ridiculous when I’m tickled there. There’s no coming back from that once you’ve heard it. That’s why I…I don’t want you to try it.”

Asahi felt a little wounded. “Why? Do you think I’ll think less of you?”

“Everyone always does. Once you lose your cool, you’re no longer cool. You know?”

“Noya, I’ll never think you’re not cool just because you’re a little ticklish. That’s silly.” When the libero didn’t answer, he continued, “But if you want me to stop here, I will.”

Noya turned to look at him again, and he frowned. “You really want to, don’t you?”

Asahi could feel himself blushing, but he couldn’t help it. “I mean…yeah. Tickling you just now was…was fun. I’d like to hear what other sounds you make. But not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Ugh.” The first-year covered his face with his hands. “You’re the cool one, Asahi. I’d never let anyone else do this, you know? You’re the only one allowed to see me like this.”

Asahi’s heart leapt. “So…is it okay? Or do you want me to stop?”

“It’s my thighs.”

There was a pause. Taking that as an invitation, Asahi cautiously reached out to try said spot, but stopped when he realized Noya was still hiding. He leaned forward and gently pried his hands away, forcing him to make eye contact. The ace smiled, then carefully grabbed one of the libero’s thighs and squeezed.

Noya spasmed again, his smile back in an instant, and just as instantly covered up again.

“Don’t hide,” Asahi said, pulling his hands away again. “I want to see that smile.”

“You’re the worst,” Noya whined, giggling. “The actual worst. I can’t believe I’m letting you do this to me-EEEEEE!! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Asahi chuckled, scratching and scribbling along his thighs, enjoying how the lightest touch forced him into this amount of hysterics. “You know what, Noya? This is way more than just cute. This is cool.” He found the inner thighs and kneaded, making the libero toss his head back and scream like a banshee. “This is really, really cool.”

“NO IT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOT!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHASAHIIIEEEEEE!!”

“Yes it is! Seeing you laugh so freely like that, like you don’t care who’s watching or listening? That’s really awesome. You’re the coolest, Noya.”

“SHUT UP, SHUT UHUHUHUHUHUHUHUP!!”

“Don’t be rude! I’m your upperclassman. I know what I’m talking about.” Asahi left Noya’s thighs, darting back up to his ribs and scribbling wildly, enjoying the tussle of trying to keep up while the little libero squirmed around on the ground, curling up, giggling wildly. “You’re so cool. The best first-year in the bunch. Don’t tell the others, though.”

“Please,” Noya wheezed, grabbing onto Asahi’s wrists, too weak to actually push them away. “Please, stohohohohop tehehehehelling me I’m cohohohohool whihihihihile you’re tihihihihihickling me!”

“But you are!” Asahi insisted, grinning at how red Noya’s cheeks were becoming. “I already thought you were cool, but your laughter is awesome. I think you’re cool whether you’re ticklish or not. I want you to believe me. Do you, Noya? Do you believe me?”

“Yehehehehehes, all rihihihihight, I’m the c-cohohohohohoolest kid on the theheheheheam!” Noya relented, giggling so hard he was gasping for breath. “Plehehehehease, stahahahahahap it! Let me gohohohohoho!”

Beaming, Asahi did as he was asked, allowing Noya to catch his breath before reaching down to squeeze his shoulder. “You’re the best, you know that? When you’re around I always want to do better. To improve. Having you share this with me and letting me indulge a little bit makes me feel like I can do anything. Because if our cool, confident libero trusts me enough to do this, there’s nothing I can’t do. Right?”

Nishinoya looked up at him incredulously, then burst out laughing all over again. “Oh my god, you’re such a sap!” he cried, clutching his stomach as he rolled onto his side. “All right, fine, you’ve convinced me. I’m glad my being so stupidly ticklish makes you feel invincible.”

“You’re not stupidly ticklish. You’re extremely ticklish,” Asahi countered, reaching down to scribble at his belly. “Because you’re an extremely cool person.”

Noya beamed, giggling, allowing his friend to have a little more fun at his expense.

From that day forward, he never called his sensitivity stupid again.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - VII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,500+

Warning: Mention of domestic violence

Previously on…

“The Court is holding session two weeks from now,” Y/N announced to the group.

“How do we know they’re going through with it after all the recent attention?” Damian challenged.

“They haven’t missed one in over over 20 years.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Dick asked.

Y/N took in a deep breath, “We need a diversion.”

“Diversion?” Jason asked.

She nodded. “The Court has two kinds of protection: the Talons and then the protection they either buy or blackmail. The Talons are at every meeting, making sure nothing goes down and protecting The Court.”

Y/N eyed all of them before continuing – except for Bruce. The two of them hadn’t spoken since their argument, and Y/N hadn’t so much as acknowledged him.

“We need to do something to drag the Talons away from The Court – something big,” Y/N clarified.

“Like what?” Tim asked.

She didn’t say anything. Instead she just awkwardly shifted her weight.

“No,” Dick shut down, being the first to put it together.

“It’s the only way,” she countered.

By now the rest of them had figured out that Y/N wished to put herself in danger once again.

“They almost killed you,” Dick started to get heated.

“Yeah, and they’re even more anxious to kill me after the trouble we caused them. We all know it. The quickest way to get the Talons out of hiding is to dangle me in right front of their faces. Make it so easy that they can’t say no.”

They all went quiet.

“It’s a good idea,” Jason broke the silence.

Jason wasn’t one to beat around the bush. He was brutally honest. Also, he wasn’t scared of a risk. 

Dick glared at him.

But to his surprise, so did Bruce.

“We don’t use our own as bait,” Bruce finally spoke for the first time.

But he wasn’t even looking in Y/N’s vicinity.

That didn’t stop Y/N from rolling her eyes at ‘our own,’ as if she were actually treated the same as everyone in this family.

“Fine,” she snapped. “So what’s your genius plan for getting the Talons away from The Court and where we want them?”

Bruce was quiet, but clearly because he was thinking.

“B, we only have two weeks to get this together,” Dick tried to reason.

Y/N just continued, “While we’re distracting the Talons, the FBI and Gotham PD can raid The Court’s meeting. Security will be at an all-time low and they won’t be able to fight their way out with the distraction of a Talon defense.”

“We can think of another way,” Bruce said. Then he addressed all boys, “We’re heading out for patrol in 15.”

Dick stood up to join them.

To everyone’s shock Y/N and Bruce simultaneously said, “You’re staying here.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re still injured,” Y/N argued. “You’re stitches aren’t even out yet.”

“You’re staying here with Y/N,” Bruce added on.

Tim, Damian, and Jason all looked at each other in amusement from seeing Bruce and Y/N gain up on Dick.

Bruce muttered out radiuses at the other three boys for patrolling.

“Just to be clear, I’m going back to being a lone wolf when this Court of Owls bullshit is over with,” Jason announced. “But I have to admit, the drama is entertaining.”

“Aww! Come on, J! You know you love the quality family time,” Tim teased.

“I personally can’t wait for him to go away,” Damian mumbled.

“Do you know what a swirly is?” Jason asked the youngest boy.

“No.”

“Do you want to find out?”

Damian looked at Tim for some kind of hint. But Tim just aggressively shook his head in warning.

“Enough,” Bruce warned, but he wasn’t all that annoyed.

When they all left for patrol, Y/N walked to her computers.

“What are you doing?” Dick questioned.

She gave him a look, “Uhhh…doing my job?”

“You did your job,” he countered. “Give yourself a break.”

Y/N knew he was technically right. She already had everything they needed to show the FBI and Gotham PD in order to take down The Court of Owls. Now they just had to wait – even if Bruce wasn’t on board with Y/N’s plan on playing bait.

“Plus,” Dick smirked. “I need someone to entertain me.”

She playfully glared at him. “Oh, I see. So this isn’t about me needing a break. It’s about you needing attention.”

He had no shame. “Maybe.”

Y/N shook her head at his ridiculous, but couldn’t hide her smirk.

“How about I teach you some self defense?” Dick offered.

“Dick! What part of ‘you’re recovering’ is so hard for you to understand?”

He had the audacity to laugh at her reaction. “Fine. Fine. But you should learn a few things at some point.”

Then Dick started walking to the training area, specifically where all the gymnastics equipment was.

Y/N hadn’t seen anyone using it while she was down there, but she assumed it was mostly for Dick.

Without warning, Dick did a press handstand mount on the balance beam, and then he held the handstand.

“Dick! Stop!” Y/N said in a panic.

And she did exactly what he wanted, leaving her computer and walking down to where he was on the balance beam.

“What?” He shrugged as he now stood on the balance beam. “It’s just a handstand. Relax.”

“I swear to god, Dick Grayson, if you do a fucking flip on that thing…”

“You’ll what?” He challenged with a smirk. “Come up here and stop me.”

Y/N crossed her arms and glared at him. “Fine. I will.”

Dick was beaming from his success.

Y/N might not be a gymnast or a vigilante the same way as all of them, but she wasn’t completely hopeless when it came to athletics. She managed to lift herself up enough to sit on the balance beam.

However, standing up was an entirely different thing.

“Fuck,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

“You got it,” Dick encouraged.

But he was still walking across towards her as if the thing was a runway.

“Have these things always been this fucking narrow? I thought it was like width of bleacher seats.”

Dick chuckled as he offered her a hand.

“I got you. Come on,” he urged her softly.

Y/N slowly stood on the balance beam, but gripped Dick’s hands tightly.

“I have some newfound respect,” she laughed lightly as she looked down at their feet.

“Harder than it looks,” Dick agreed.

“Do you think you could’ve gone to the Olympics?” Y/N genuinely asked.

He shrugged, “Who knows. Probably not.”

But Y/N knew he was most likely being modest.  

Then Dick let go of her hands to grip her waist, “Try walking.”

“I feel like we’re in Dirty Dancing. You know, like the scene where they’re working on lifts and walking across the log in the woods.”

He smiled.

Y/N lost her balance a little bit and panicked.

But Dick’s grip on her waist was strong. “You’re OK. I got you.”

It was hard to focus on balancing and walking when his gentle voice said things like that to her, making her stomach drop and her heartbeat quicken.

And it all proved to be too much when Y/N really lost her balance and there was no stopping her from falling. She shoved into Dick too hard, making him lose his grip as well.

But as they fell, Dick quickly maneuvered their bodies so he took the fall and caged her body protectively.

Y/N instantly sat up in hysterics.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Are you OK?” Y/N cried out as her eyes went down to where he still had stitches, half expecting blood to be on his t-shirt from the wound reopening.

But Dick was laughing his ass off.

“It’s not funny!” She slapped his chest.

“I’m not made of glass, Y/N.”

She couldn’t keep her own amusement in check much longer and started laughing along with him.

But then Dick’s phone lit up and vibrated beside them. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when they fell.

Y/N didn’t mean to look. She really didn’t. But her eyes couldn’t stop from reading the name ‘Barbara Gordon’ on the screen.

Her smile dropped for some reason.

But Dick didn’t see the problem.

He casually reached over and looked at the message.

Y/N moved off of Dick. “Texting your ex?”

Dick narrowed his eyes at the framing of her question. “Do you know every woman I’ve ever dated?”

She smirked at that. “Maybe.”

“Yes, I am. She’s a friend.” He tilted his head. “Don’t you stay in touch with any of your exes?”

Y/N shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t really have any ex-boyfriends. Just…” she hesitated, “people I’ve hooked up with or whatever.”

Dick nodded slowly.

“Why hasn’t she been around?” Y/N changed the subject quickly.

“She’s been working her own case – had to go undercover for awhile.”

She nodded. But wasn’t looking at him as they talked now.

“You know…just because that’s what’s happened in the past doesn’t mean that it always has to be that way,” he told her quietly.

“Easy for you to say.”

Dick winced a bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her gaze finally moved up from the floor to his. “You’re a serial monogamist. Being in relationships is easy for you.”

“That’s what you think of me?” Dick couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “You think I don’t know how to be alone?”

“I didn’t say that,” she quickly defended.

“But that’s what you were implying.”

Y/N got up from the mats and started to leave.

“No. Don’t do that,” Dick caught her arm.

“Do what?” She challenged as she pulled her arm away from him.

“Don’t make up problems that don’t exist, Y/N.”

She huffed at that.

“Yeah, I’ve been in serious relationships for most of my life. Not because I didn’t know how to be alone, but because I loved them.” He shook his head. “I know men have treated you like shit, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same.”

“What are we even talking about, Dick?” She shot back.

How did they get from messing around on a balance beam to discussing their non-existent relationship?

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You’re one of the smartest people I know. Act like it.”

It wasn’t until now that Dick saw how Bruce and Y/N were similar. He’d never met anyone else that could push people away like they did. But it was clear they both thought it was easier and less complicated to isolate themselves. 

Maybe that’s why they gravitated toward each other. Like if the faced it together than they were cheating their way out of their own rules.

Except Dick couldn’t help but wonder what Y/N’s life could look like with someone who really loved her, who showed her that she didn’t have to face the world alone. Obviously he wanted to be that person for her. But his ego wasn’t too proud to allow someone else to do that for her. Even if it hurt like hell.

“Dick, I can’t–”

But he didn’t let her say another word, and his lips crashed against hers.

She tried to be stubborn and pull away, but he wasn’t letting her get away.

Dick deepened the kiss. This wasn’t like the night of the gala. It wasn’t innocent and soft. No, this was filled with fire and infatuation.

Dick wasn’t being polite anymore. His hands slipped under her t-shirt to grasp her waist, needing to feel her and refusing to allow fabric between his touch and her skin.

Maybe he was trying to prove something to Y/N now.

But just when Y/N was about to push it further, Dick pulled away.

Their lips were both swollen.

And he kept close to her, tempting her with another kiss – but not giving in.

“You don’t want to talk about it? Fine.” His voice was raspy.

Eventually he’d push her to talk about them. For now, he’d let her figure things out.

“But don’t convince yourself that I’m no one to you.”

———————

Y/N couldn’t sleep.

Her mind was restless.

She knew Dick had been right: she was trying to point out issues that didn’t exist, picking unnecessary fights.

Getting Dick frustrated was a great way to stop herself from actually reflecting on how she was starting to feel about him.

Instead of tossing and turning in bed, Y/N decided to go to the library. She hadn’t spent much time there – too busy practically living in cave. But it had intrigued her since she arrived. It was so beautiful, and even large enough to hide in.

She was a hour or so into a book she grabbed from the shelves when someone cleared their throat.

Y/N jumped in fright and looked up to see Bruce leaning against one of the book shelves.

His hair was wet and he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Clearly he’d just taken a shower.

“You’re back early,” she noted.

It wasn’t even 4AM yet.

“Quiet night. The boys had patrolling handled.”

She just nodded and went back to her book.

But Bruce’s presence made it impossible for her to even focus enough on the words to keep reading. So, she faked it.

“I owe you an apology.”

Her stare snapped up.

“I should not have spoken to you the way I did.”

Y/N was silent.

“It was unfair, and I was mistaken. I apologize.”

Y/N watched him for a moment before saying, “Apology accepted.”

She expected him to leave after that. He’d checked his little box. Now they could both move on.

“I was scared,” Bruce confessed. “That I was going to find you dead. And then I was scared Dick would lose it and…” His words died out.

“Well… you hid that very easily.”

“I have to.”

“I know. But you don’t realize how frustrating that can be for other people.”

Bruce sighed and frowned. “I understand.”

Y/N finally put her book down and got up from the love seat to slowly walk to where Bruce was standing.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” she apologized softly. “And I’m sorry for scaring you. I was only doing what I thought was right.”

Bruce didn’t even realize what he doing until he pulled Y/N into his arms and felt her bury her face into his chest and hug him back. He tightened his hold around her, breathing in her hair.

Y/N was surprised by his hug, but she was grateful for it.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. It was either his body wash or his cologne, but Bruce always smelled like musk and wood. Y/N was rarely close enough to smell it this well. But when she did, it instantly soothed her.

“Why are you up so late?” Bruce asked when they finally pulled away.

Y/N let out a long sigh, “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”

“You do not know how to make tea,” she answered while trying not to laugh.

“I am not as hopeless in the kitchen as you’d imagine,” he told her with a smirk.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she replied, as she followed him downstairs.

True to his word, Bruce made Y/N lavender tea, making it just as Alfred had taught him as a child.

He gave her a smug smirk when he handed her one of the mugs and saw how surprised she was by him.

Y/N never expected he would linger. 

But an hour later, they were still sitting on the barstools at the island.

The conversation was slow, but light.

Now that Y/N had spent so much time with the family, she mostly talked about the boys with Bruce, asked him questions about each of them.

It was easier for him to talk about them than himself – or them. 

Little did Bruce know, Y/N was learning so much more about him from the way he talked about all of them.  

Bruce was subtle, but Y/N could tell how proud he was of all of them – even Jason, who he had a tumultuous relationship with. He loved them with all his heart, even though he was terrible at showing it.

“Damian’s the only one who still lives here. Tim has a penthouse in the city. And Dick is constantly jumping around place to place. But it’s been...nice having them around so much recently,” Bruce admitted with hesitation.

“And what about Jason?” She asked. “He never seems to stay here.”

Bruce hid his sadness and disappointment well, but Y/N could still see it.

“I’m lucky Jason even speaks to me,” he answered darkly. “He tends to like his space and prefers to…keep to himself.”

She nodded, not forcing the subject more.

But then her eyes got a glimpse of the clock. And she looked inside her now empty mug. How long ago did she finish it?

“I should probably attempt to get at least a couple hours of sleep,” she murmured as she got up from the stool. 

Bruce nodded, and did that thing where men stand up as soon as a woman does.

No matter how many times he did it, Y/N was always caught off guard by it.

“Thank you for the tea,” her voice was so quiet, but sincere. She smiled, “I’m sorry for ever doubting your skills.”

He grinned and watched her leave.

But when Y/N reached the edge of the kitchen she turned around. “If I asked you a question, would you answer truthfully? And I mean really answer.”

Bruce observed her for a few seconds. 

He knew she deserved his honesty.

They constantly answered each other’s questions with questions. It was like a dance – or a fight – which one probably just depended on the day.

He nodded.

“It’s okay if I am. Really, it is.” She took a short inhale. “But was I just another one of Bruce Wayne’s conquests?”

The desperation for honesty was so clear in her face and voice. If he said ‘yes,’ it would hurt her, but she would get over it. After all, that’s what she’d been assuming all this time.

Bruce did not have the words. Furthermore, he saw this for what it was: the two of them approaching dangerous territory.

But he owed her this.

Bruce didn’t break her stare as he carefully shook his head.

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

——————

LATER THAT NIGHT/EARLY MORNING…

Bruce knew Dick would be in the gym in the manor.

Everyone trained in the cave, so Dick knew no one would find him there. And he could workout in peace without being reprimanded about resting and being cautious about his injuries.

Dick had been sprinting on the treadmill when Bruce walked in.

When he spotted his entrance in the mirror, Dick stopped the machine.

He was dripping in sweat, proving that he’d been training hard – too hard for his condition.

Wonder where he learned that from…

“What’s up?” Dick asked as he wiped his face with a towel.  

“I had a feeling you weren’t resting,” Bruce said as he crossed his arms.

“I’m fine,” Dick shot back.

But he did a double take when he realized how deep in thought Bruce seemed to me. He was staring off, an extremely unusual thing for him. 

“Bruce?” Dick asked with concern. 

“Y/N’s parents abused her,” Bruce told him firmly all of the sudden. “Her father was an alcoholic – beat her and his wife. Her mother emotionally and mentally terrorized her. After running away countless times, Y/N was finally able to emancipate herself at 16.”

Dick’s entire body froze. “How do you know that?”

“She told me.” 

Bruce didn’t mean to sound smug. 

But Dick still took it that way. 

“For obvious reasons, she didn’t go into great detail. But I filled in the blanks with research – though she’s hid her past well, as you can imagine. She was homeless after that. Broke in where she could. Tried to stay off the streets. Even dressed like a boy for safety.”

Dick felt sick as he listened. Stories like this were all too familiar to their family. 

“One day, she saw someone coding on their computer at a coffee shop. She had always overachieved at computer science in school, and it intrigued her. As you and I both know, she caught on rather quickly.”  

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because she’s not going to,” Bruce replied as if it’s obvious.

Dick scowled, still not putting together the deeper meaning. They had never shared a conversation like this before. And it was confusing him.

Was Bruce trying to shove his past with Y/N in Dick’s face?

“I was the first person she ever shared her past with,” Bruce said slowly. “And it took me far too long to realize that I mishandled her trust. I did not deserve it.”

Dick could see the regret on Bruce’s face as he spoke.

But Dick finally understood what Bruce was actually trying to tell him: ‘If she does you the same honor, don’t you dare make the same mistake I did.’

“I understand,” was all Dick responded with.

Bruce gave a curt nod.

“Need I remind you that the cave has cameras?”

Bruce saw them kiss. But little did he know, it wasn’t their first.

Dick only quirked an eyebrow as if it say, ‘So? What of it?’

-----------

Part 8

Guys, I was 30 minutes early. You’re welcome. 

I want to point out that Y/N’s dark past was always part of the story. But I avoided actually including it because I am not a fan of fanfic writers often romanticizing abuse or mental health issues or other serious matters. I just want everyone to know that I take things like this seriously and I’m not just using them as a plot point. 

So here is a resource if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence. 

[that-welder-dude]

Bakugou Katsuki x Sad!Male!Reader (Fluff)

"Enjoy the Little Things"

Warnings: Cursing because Bakugou

Info

Name: L/n Y/n

Age: 15

Height: 5'3

Hair Color: (h/c)

Hair Length: (h/l)

Eye Color: (e/c)

Skin Tone: (s/t)

Quirk: Levitation

Your quirk allows you to move things around by focusing your attention on it, including yourself.

Drawbacks: You get migraines from using your quirk too long, also causing bleeding from your ears and nose. This worries your boyfriend quite a bit.

You are a shy person when you first meet someone, but once you warm up to someone, you like to talk and open up a bit more.

*****

-Third Person POV-

Bakugou's eyes flutter open, glaring at the sunlight peaking through the curtains in his dorm room. It's a Saturday, meaning he doesn't have to be up for school, but that also means he wants to sleep in a little bit more. He movs to close the small gap in the curtains but feels a weight on his chest, keeping him from sitting up. He glances down and sees his beautiful boyfriend, Y/N, snuggling his face into his chest.

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth at the sight of him, (h/l) (h/c) disheveled and covering his eyes a bit, mouth open slightly with soft snore leaving it. Y/N's (pale/pink), (soft/rough) lips moved slightly as he breathed, occasionally letting out a quiet "hmm".

Bakugou sighs quietly and very gently lifts his boyfriend off of him, moving off the bed to close the curtains. Almost immediately after his body leaves the bed, Y/N's (soft/hoarse) morning voice could be heard in the form of a whine, wanting the warmth that was just so rudely taken from him. Bakugou chuckles quietly to himself and seals the curtains shut, then climbs back into bed, small arms immediately wrapping around his midsection and pulling him closer.

A (e/c) eye opens very slowly and looks up at the blond male who disturbed his sleep moments ago. "What were you doing?" Y/N whispers, his morning voice peaking through the soft sound.

"I was closing the curtains all the way so we didn't have to deal with the sun," Bakugou replies quietly, still trying hard not to disturb the boy any further than he already had.

Y/N just hums softly before letting out a soft yawn and moves to sit up in the bed to stretch, before being pulled back into his larger boyfriend's chest with a soft yelp of surprise. Bakugou laughs softly as he wraps his arms around the smaller's waist and kisses his nose very softly.

"How did you sleep?" he asks very quietly, rubbing their noses together gently, knowing how much Y/N loves it. The smaller male smiles and does the same, giggling a bit. "I slept very well, but I always do when I'm with you," he smiles even brighter.

Bakugou pulls back a bit to admire the features of his boyfriend's face, memorizing them again and again. Y/N just looks back, unconsciously glancing down at Bakugou's lips, then gives them a small peck. Bakugou smiles in surprise and pulls him in for a slightly longer but just as sweet kiss.

He gently strokes the (soft/rough) (s/t) exposed patch of skin on Y/N's shoulder where the shirt is sliding off because of how big it is on him. He sits up all the way and pulls Y/N's head into his lap, then starts to immediately starts playing with the smaller male's (h/c) locks.

Y/N is slightly confused by his boyfriend's actions slightly, usually he isn't this affectionate, even when they are alone. He decides to voice his thoughts and only earns a quiet hum from Bakugou.

After a moment of silence, Bakugou speaks again. "I'm just enjoying the little things."

~Timeskip~

-Bakugou's POV-

Once we officially get up for the day, everyone else in the dorms is already up. I gently take Y/N's hand in mine as we make our way to the elevator to head down to the kitchen to eat breakfast. His feet shuffle slowly on the floor as he tries to rub the sleep from his eyes. Once we're in the elevator, I press the button for the bottom floor and release Y/N's hand. This makes him frown a bit but he doesn't say anything, as he knows that I don't want the others to know that we are together yet. I know he wants to tell everyone but I'm not ready, I haven't even told anyone that I'm gay. The only people who know are Aizawa-sensei and my and Y/N's parents. Aizawa only knows because he caught us sleeping in Y/N's room a couple of weeks ago, earning us both detention for not telling him because he had checked rooms on one of his night patrols of the hallways. When he didn't find me, he was frantic and started flinging doors open all over, scaring some students. When he found me and Y/N snuggling, I begged him not to tell anyone and he agreed, only stating that I needed to be more responsible.

I frowned at the memory, hating how he had found out.

Y/N seems to notice my slight anger, moving to touch my arm to comfort me, only for me to jerk out of his reach as the elevator opens. I swiftly step out and walk towards the kitchen, leaving Y/N in the elevator.

Once I get my breakfast and sit at the table, I look up, only to notice that my small boyfriend was nowhere in sight. I frown but try no to let it bother me, eating my food quietly.

After about 20 minutes, the elevator dings and Y/N steps out dressed in his school training uniform. I watch him as he walks by and his (e/c) orbs catch mine for a moment before darkening and looking away again. He strides right past the kitchen and out the door of the dorms, walking in the direction of the school. I watch him go, confused, then see Midoriya, also dressed in his training uniform as well, rush past and catch up to Y/N. I just barely have time to see Y/N turn to smile at the broccoli boy before the door closes.

I feel anger boil up in me. What is that damn Deku doing with my Y/N? Y/N only ever sparred with me, unless we were at school and got partnered up with other people. I angrily stand up and throw away my trash rather aggressively, gaining a few stares from the others in the common room.

I spend the rest of the day in my room, half-expecting Y/N to walk in. The longer he doesn't, though, the angrier I get. I must've fell asleep at some point because I wake up the next day and once again, the sun is peaking through the curtain. I groan and throw the covers off and get up. Y/N didn't come to my room last night, meaning he was still angry. All because I wouldn't let him touch me?? That doesn't make sense, he knows I don't want people knowing yet. Sure, It's been a few months, but that doesn't mean I don't want to spend time with him in private. He just doesn't understand. I shake my head and remove him from my mind. If he is going to hold onto this grudge, then I will too.

~Timeskip~

It's been a whole week since Y/N has spoken to me, and I am getting very impatient. We all arrive in the classroom on that next Monday and Y/N completely ignores me. He strides to his desk next to Deku and immediately starts talking to him about training with him again. I feel my anger worsen and I can't help but lash out.

"Oi, dumbasses! Shut the fuck up, you're too loud!" I yell. I turn around, ignoring the eyes burning into my back, knowing who they belong to. I hear Deku go back to talking to him and just as I'm about to yell again, Aizawa-sensei tells us homeroom is over and that we need to change into our training uniform to train.

Immediately after he finishes speaking, I feel a presence shove past me as I try to stand, only to get knocked back into my seat. I look at Y/N in shock, the anger and hurt still very apparent in his eyes as he glares back at me. He grabs his uniform and leaves before anyone else has a chance to catch up.

Once everyone is outside, Aizawa partners us up to start sparring, saying we can use our quirks as long as we don't hurt each other too much.

Of course, my luck is this bad. I get Y/N.

Once we dispersed enough to begin, Y/N immediately lunges at me and knocks me to the ground. Even with my reflexes, he is able to knock me down. Explosions blast out of my palms and they throw him backwards, but he catches himself with his quirk, floating off the ground a few inches. Then I hear him do something I've never heard him do before.

He growls.

It's low, almost imperceptible, but I catch it and it sends a shiver down my spine. He doesn't get this angry, even when Kaminari picks on him for his size. That's when I know this is going to be an all out fight.

He lunges at me again, this time slower because of the use of his quirk so I have time to react and blast him back again. I'm hesitant, though, because I don't want to hurt him, even though he seems very intent on hurting me.

"Don't hold back, because I'm not," he yells at me. I shift uncomfortably under his very angry gaze, wishing I could see the calm, playful glare that usually accompanies our sparring matches.

He lunges at me again and again, occasionally activating his quirk to dodge my blasts. I land a few hits on him as he does on me. I can tell he's getting tired based on how his attacks are slowing, but they are just as strong and painful if I'm not careful.

That's when I see the blood starting to come out of his left ear. A drawback of his quirk, he's been using it too much on me. In my moment of hesitation, he lunges again, this time hitting me square in my jaw so hard I start to see black spots. As I regain my senses, I see him in front of me, his other ear bleeding now as well. No one else seems to have noticed yet, so I give him a half apologetic, half concerned look.

I see him also blinking rapidly, meaning the beginning of a migraine has started to set in. I bit my lip hard, fighting myself to keep from running to him and holding him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear until his head stops hurting.

I can't do that. We are still sparring, I'll hold him later and hopefully he'll have forgiven me by then.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't see him move towards me quickly and I feel the impact of his foot in my gut, but instead of falling onto the ground behind me, I feel myself get lifted off the ground and higher into the air. He's using his quirk on me, and he's going to drop me. He's really trying to hurt me, like I hurt him.

Then I'm falling, and I use my explosions to keep myself from landing too hard on the ground. I look over at him, only to see him on the ground, passed out from the pain and the blood loss from his ears and his now heavily-bleeding nose. My mind goes blank as I rush towards him and pull him into my arms, being as gentle as I can in this state. I hear myself yelling for Aizawa-sensei, getting his attention from across the field. His eyes widen as he and the rest of the class stop what they're doing to come see what's going on.

"What happened?!" He yelled as he approached us on the ground. I didn't respond as I held Y/N close, just stroking his (h/l) (h/c) hair and whispering to him. Kirishima is the one who spoke up.

"It looks like he overused his quirk and passed out," he states quietly.

Y/N's unfocused eyes open and stare up at me from my lap. I sigh in relief and cup his face in my hands like I do when he's in pain. Without thinking, I lean down and press my lips softly against his and hold them there. I hear quiet gasps and several "I knew it!" from my classmates. As I pull away, I realized that I just came out to my whole class and kissed my not-so-secret boyfriend in front of them. But instead of embarrassment or anger, I feel relieved, happy even.

Y/N's eyes are more focused now but I know he still isn't fully aware of what's going on right now, so I just continue to stroke his hair and whisper softly to him. He reaches up and lightly plays with a few strands of my hair, slowly moving his hand down to my eyes, then to my eyes, nose, and then to my mouth where he began to trace my lips with his thumb.

"What are you doing, dumbass?" I jokingly ask him. But when he answers he is serious and I know he is remember the morning we stopped talking. Then he smiles and pulls my nose to his, rubbing them together softly.

"I'm enjoying the little things."

[silverynight]

Protective

Izuku finds himself in the hospital again. It's definitely something he's gotten used to since he got in the UA; the only difference is that this time he almost dies.

His mother, All Might and his classmates go to see him a couple of times; Bakugo is oddly silent, standing in a corner with his arms crossed over his chest and looking anywhere but at Izuku while the others are telling him how worried they were.

Izuku wonders if Bakugo was brought there by Kirishima and Kaminari against his will and sighs with a fond smile on his face as he realizes that he's the same as always.

Choosing not to worry anymore about his childhood friend, Izuku looks up at Todoroki, who's trying his best to make him feel better even though he's not that good at it.

***

He returns to his classes pretty soon, he's not allowed to train or exercise the first couple of days though it's the last thing in his mind at the moment. Izuku is just so happy to be back.

It takes him a while to notice that something is not quite as it used to be. At first Izuku thinks it's just because he's giving Bakugo the space he was constantly begging for since things turned out bad for their relationship when they were just kids, but it's just that everything has gotten considerably more quiet because Bakugo has stopped growling and insulting him at all.

But that's not the weirdest thing that happens.

It begins when he's walking next to Iida, Uraraka and Todoroki back to Heights Alliance when a boy runs towards them (he's clearly in a hurry so he doesn't seem to be paying attention to his surroundings) and bumps into Izuku, prompting him to fall to the ground.

"Ouch!" He can't help but yelp.

Quickly, Todoroki asks if he's alright and offers him a hand.

"Hey! Be careful!" Uraraka is already hissing at the boy, but he looks so concerned that she calms down immediately.

"I'm so sorry!" The boy mumbles again.

"It's alright." Izuku grins at him at the same time Iida starts giving the boy a speech about rules and security.

And that's when it happens. The boy is suddenly grabbed by the shirt, a strong hand quickly slamming him against the nearest wall.

He's terrified and honestly Izuku doesn't blame him. Bakugo has that effect on almost everyone even when he's not that angry.

But now... Now he's livid.

"I SAW HIM FALL, YOU FUCKING EXTRA!" Bakugo roars, baring his teeth at the poor, terrified soul. "Now... If he has ONE scratch on his body because of you then consider yourself dead..."

"I didn't mean t-to!" The boy stammers, unable to control the way he's trembling.

It's the little explosions coming from Bakugo's open hand what make Izuku react; his friends are probably as shocked and confused as him because they haven't say a word.

"Kacchan, stop! I'm fine!" Izuku takes a step closer which prompts the grumpy blond to glance in his direction. "Don't hurt him! It was an accident! He apologized already!"

Bakugo's eyes roam all over Izuku's body before snarling at the pale boy. He huffs and releases him though, prompting him to fall on the ground.

"You're lucky," He tells the other student before the boy runs away.

Iida starts scolding Bakugo for his behavior but the blond ignores him completely and gets closer to Izuku. With one hand he grabs the green haired boy by the chin.

"You better not be lying to me, Deku," he warns him. "Are you really not hurt?"

"Not even a scratch, uhh–"

Todoroki slaps Bakugo's arm away from Izuku; the boy narrows his mismatched eyes at him.

"That's enough, Bakugo. You'll be the one hurting Midoriya if you keep like–"

Bakugo growls; he's fuming. His red eyes are almost glowing with rage.

"I'M NOT HURTING HIM! I WON'T HURT HIM, YOU HALF AND HALF BASTARD! THAT'S WHAT YOU THINK?"

"Based on what I've heard about your relationship, wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

This time the blond doesn't have an answer. Actually, he looks like he's been hit across the face.

Instead of the explosive rage Izuku is used to see in him, Bakugo freezes and looks at the ground.

"Kacchan, Todoroki..."

But Bakugo just shakes his head and walks away.

***

Izuku grins the first day back at the gym; Cementoss has prepared the place for them to train and he can't wait to use OFA again. He needs to practice if he wants to keep up with the rest of the class.

Above him, he hears a couple of explosions and a growl; Bakugo has fallen for the third time in the day, Izuku has no idea what's happening to him, it's not like him to fail so many times.

He considers running towards him to see if he's alright, but remembers all the times Bakugo has slapped his hand away and snarled at him, claiming he didn't ask for help. So Izuku, feeling like a terrible person, decides to leave it to the teachers.

"Focus, Bakugo!" Aizawa scolds him and upon hearing the irritation in his voice Izuku knows the blond isn't actually injured. "You're very distracted today. It's not your job to keep an eye on–"

"I'M NOT DISTRACTED!"

Izuku rolls his eyes and goes back to the spot he chose to train.

"Hey, be careful!" Someone above him screams.

However, when he sees the pieces of cement falling towards him, Izuku doesn't move. There's a grin on his face as he gets ready to use Full Cowl in order to get rid of the huge fragments before they hit him.

Sadly, someone pushes him away and they both end up on the ground, although Izuku notices that strong arms have managed to shield most of his body from the impact.

"Wha–cchan?"

Bakugo doesn't utter a word, he's lying on Izuku but untangles himself from him quickly. He's on his hands and knees to support his own weight, but doesn't move away from him.

"Kacchan, I was going to–"

A hand is on Izuku's cheek now, however it's surprisingly gentle.

"Are you hurt?"

It has happened before, but it's still odd to hear Bakugo using his voice not to yell; it sounds almost soft and... vulnerable.

Like he's worried.

"I'm fine," Izuku hears himself answer, still confused.

Bakugo looks like he desperately wants to say something else, but he's suddenly yanked away.

"I warned you, Bakugo," Aizawa scolds him. "You're banned from the gym for the rest of the day."

"WHAT? AREN'T HEROES SUPPOSED TO SAVE PEOPLE?"

"Midoriya was going to take care of that himself," Aizawa retorts. "You've been distracted the whole day, trying to protect him even though he doesn't need it. You need to learn to trust him more, he's a hero in training too after all."

Everyone has stopped to watch the interesting but confusing scene in front of them. Izuku feels completely lost.

Bakugo looks at the ground, his eyes are shadowed by his own hair so no one can't see his expression at the moment. He whispers something to the teacher that no one is able to hear.

"I know... I understand," Aizawa mumbles, softening a little bit. "But if you keep like this you'll only get both of you hurt."

After saying that, he drags the boy away. There's an uncomfortable silence that follows and everyone turns their heads to stare at Izuku like he has the answer to that particular puzzle.

Fortunately, Cementoss scolds them for stopping and they all go back to train.

***

After the incident in the gym, everyone knows something's going on with Bakugo. The problem is that some of them already have a few theories about it.

"What are you going to do now that Bakugo is acting like your overprotective boyfriend?" Uraraka gets closer to his seat, prompting Izuku to almost jump and turn bright red.

Fortunately, Bakugo hasn't arrived yet.

"He's not," Izuku whispers, feeling the blush quickly spreading down his neck.

"I guess you really scared him that last time you went to the hospital," Uraraka continues like Izuku hasn't said a word. "Well, to be fair, you scared all of us."

"I'm sorry."

"Just be more careful, alright?"

Izuku smiles at her, putting a hand over hers when a protein bar falls over his desk a little bit aggressively.

"Grabbed this for you at the cafeteria, Deku," Bakugo growls, glaring at Uraraka as he sits in front of his own desk. "I don't think you'll manage to surpass me anytime soon if you keep coming to class on an empty stomach."

Oh. He's right, Izuku didn't have breakfast that morning... However, he had no idea that Bakugo noticed.

"T-Thanks," he mumbles, feeling suddenly flustered; he refuses to look at Uraraka.

"Whatever!" Bakugo turns around. "Eat it before Aizawa arrives though."

***

"I think you should talk to him," Uraraka tells him, hours later. They're in Todoroki's room, studying for their upcoming English test.

"Don't," Todoroki chimes in, prompting the girl to narrow her eyes at him. "I don't trust him."

"Kacchan is not bad," Izuku says, sighing when the boy with mismatched eyes quirks up a brow at him. "He really isn't. And you know it, he's helped you a couple of times."

"Because he wants to win."

"That's what he says, but he doesn't really mean it."

"He worries about you," Uraraka adds, with a smirk on her face. Izuku tries not to shake his head at her; it looks like she hasn't abandoned her theory after all.

"He's not the only one that worries about Midoriya," Todoroki protests, although his expression softens when he looks back at Izuku.

"I know," Izuku smiles at him before rising from his spot on the floor. "But Uraraka's right, I got to talk to him."

"Fine," Todoroki sighs. "I'll see you tomorrow."

***

When he's right outside Bakugo's door though, Izuku has second thoughts.

"Are you going to talk to him?" Kirishima rushes down the hallway, startling Izuku. "Please do, he really needs it. He's been worried about you since... that day. He was... devastated."

Oh. So it is because of that after all.

Izuku takes a deep breath, nods at Kirishima who grins at him encouragingly. When he knocks at the door, the boy with red hair vanishes.

"I TOLD YOU I DON'T WANT TO GO OUT, KAMINARI! IF YOU KNOCK THAT DOOR AGAIN I'LL–"

"It's me! Deku!" Just seconds after he says it, the door opens. Bakugo is already staring at him from head to toe.

Before he can say anything though, the blond grabs him by the arm, pulls him inside and closes the door behind them.

"What is it? Are you hurt?

Only then Izuku notices the shadows under Bakugo's eyes. He looks really tired.

"No. I'm f-fine. I just wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

There it is, same old Bakugo, acting aggressive as soon as someone tries to mention feelings.

"About this." Izuku points at the space between the two. Curiously, there's not much at the moment. "You're worried about me."

Bakugo looks at the floor, hands quickly turning into fists; Izuku knows he's going to yell at him that he's NOT WORRIED AT ALL and he'll probably scream at him to get out of his room.

But none of that happens.

"I am," the blond admits instead, voice rough. "And it's killing me. I can't stop it."

"Hey," Izuku mumbles softly. He takes Bakugo's face in his hands and to his surprise, the boy just lets him. His eyes are red, like it's taking every single bit of his strength not to cry. "It's alright. I worry about you too. It's okay to worry about your friends."

Bakugo grimaces at the word "friends" and Izuku feels a little bit sad when realizes he doesn't want to consider him his friend.

"I have nightmares about you... About that day, about you in the hospital," Bakugo flinches at his own words. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I can't promise you I won't," Izuku whispers, holding back a chuckle when he notices Bakugo leaning closer to him. "But I can promise I will try to be more careful."

"Let me protect you, let me help you..."

"When I really need it and only if you let me do the same for you."

Izuku swears that for a moment he can see the pride shading those red eyes before he pushes it away.

"Alright. It's a deal."

"It is," Izuku agrees with a smile. He moves away quickly, realizing that it's getting late. "Well–"

"Stay," Bakugo blurts out, cheeks turning slightly pink when he realizes what he just said.

Thinking this is probably about the nightmares, Izuku nods and then, to push away the nervousness he's feeling, he mumbles:

"Of course... Like when we were kids..."

Except that this is completely different, because Izuku's heart is beating like crazy inside his chest as he moves as far away as he can from Bakugo.

However, he's so tired he falls asleep quickly.

When he wakes up he finds himself facing Bakugo, face buried in his chest because strong arms are stubbornly keeping him that way.

Izuku blushes, trying to gently escape from the embrace, but the only thing he manages after pushing the other away is to make Bakugo growl and pull him even closer to him.

And of course, because that's just what happens whenever Izuku gets involved, the door opens suddenly and Kaminari rushes in excitedly, followed by a concerned Kirishima.

"Bakugo! Wake up it's–"

"Sorry! I told Kaminari that it wasn't manly to get in other people's room without– Midoriya?"

Izuku groans as he covers his face with both hands. He feels like he's burning.

"Congratulations, Bakugo!" Kaminari smirks at him, making everything worse. "I always thought Midoriya was really cute and–"

"No!" Izuku protests immediately. "It's not like–"

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT KNOCKING FIRST? GET OUT, BOTH OF YOU!" Bakugo growls, however, he doesn't move his hands away from Izuku nor he tries to explain what it's really happening.

Kirishima nods and he does pull Kaminari by the shirt, but he is still grinning as he moves towards the entrance.

"I'm really happy for you, man!"

"This is not what you think..." It's too late for Izuku to explain though, because they're already gone.

Bakugo doesn't explode anymore after that, he doesn't try to kick Izuku off his bed, instead he closes his eyes and buries his face in the curve of Izuku's neck.

"Kacchan... I need to go."

"Why? It's Saturday..."

"I promised Todoroki I'll go with him to the mall so I can help him get a present for his mom."

"He can do it himself," Bakugo argues, looking back at Izuku.

"I promised!"

"Fine, but I'm coming with. Because after that we'll have our first date."

There is too much for Izuku to process in a few seconds, so he just blinks, nods and watches as Bakugo moves off the bed and towards the bathroom.

"I'll take a shower first. I'll wait for you outside your dorm."

Izuku nods again, realizing that he's really looking forward to their date, even though part of him thinks it's not really a good idea.

***

Patreon

[angelsfalling16]

Sometimes All I Think About Is You

Part of the 20 First Kisses Series

Summary: Baz loses a bet with Dev and Niall and has to wear a uniform skirt for a week, and it makes Simon act so crazy. He can’t handle that much of Baz's legs, and he's determined to prove that Baz is using it as a distraction from whatever he's plotting.

Word Count: 3068

A/N: This was based on this prompt that was sent to @carryonprompts. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it for a few days since I saw it, and I finally got the chance to sit down and write it today. (And of course, it fit perfectly as a 20fk fic :))

The title is from the song "Heat Waves" by Glass Animals

Read it on ao3

***

Simon

There’s a blast of magic, and the doors to the dining hall slam open.

This is a pretty regular occurrence, and everyone is pretty used to it by now, which means that I am one of the few people who look up to see who it is.

Baz walks in through the doors, sneering at Dev and Niall who follow him in. The two of them look like they’re about to burst into laughter at any moment while Baz has a near-murderous look on his face. (It’s an expression I know well.)

I’m not sure why the three of them look like that until my eyes fall down to Baz’s outfit for the day.

“What the hell?” I gasp.

“What did Baz do this time?” Penny asks in a bored tone, not even bothering to look up from

“Look,” I whisper.

She turns, and I use the moment to take in what Baz is wearing. He’s wearing his usual Watford blazer, but rather than his neatly pressed slacks, he has chosen to pair it with the pleated grey skirt that is usually reserved for the girls who choose to wear them.

Somehow, he manages not to look completely ridiculous. I would almost venture to say that he looks good in it. (Of course he does, the bastard. He doesn’t look bad in anything.)

His legs seem to stretch for miles beneath the too-short skirt that barely hits him mid-thigh, and I can’t seem to stop staring at them.

I’ve seen Baz’s legs before, of course. I mean he wears shorts all the time when he’s playing football, but this is different. I’m not supposed to be able to see his legs right now, so it feels wrong in a way. Yet, I can’t seem to look away.

“Hm. Interesting fashion choice,” Penny says, turning back to her breakfast. “I guess there aren’t any rules against the boys wearing skirts since they’re technically still in dress code.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird.”

“How?”

“I—. I don’t kn-know.” I shrug. I guess it’s just different than what I’m used to. But different isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was just a shock to see him dressed like that. “I guess it’s not. It’s just surprising.”

My eyes follow Baz around the room as he grabs some food and sits down at his table, snickers following him as he walks. From Dev and Niall. No one else seems to really care how Baz decided to dress today.

I try to pretend not to care either, turning back to my own food, but I can’t stop my gaze from wandering over to Baz.

***

I can’t keep my eyes off of Baz the rest of the day either, no matter how hard I try. There’s just something about the way he looks in that skirt that has my eyes glued to him, and it takes my full attention to try to figure it out.

Finally, as I stumble through the lesson in our final class of the day, I figure it out.

Baz is plotting something, and he’s wearing the skirt to throw me off his trail. He wants me focused on what he’s wearing instead of whatever it is that he’s planning. It almost worked, too. I haven’t been able to think about much except that skirt.

I mentally shake myself, feeling foolish. I almost let Baz trick me. If he had managed to keep me distracted, he could have gotten away with whatever he wanted.

Now, I absolutely cannot take my eyes off of him. I have to follow him and figure out his nefarious plan.

***

I follow Baz around for the next several days, and he keeps wearing that skirt, trying to distract me. But I won't let him get away with it. I will figure out what he’s up to and stop him.

Currently, it’s Friday afternoon, and I haven’t stopped watching since the moment he walked into the dining hall for tea. (Without blasting the doors open this time.)

“I know he’s up to something,” I murmur, more to myself than to Penny, but she responds anyway.

“Simon, I mean this in the kindest way possible, but you’re being an idiot.”

“What?” I ask, so shocked that I tear my eyes off of Baz in order to look at her.

“Did you ever stop to consider that maybe he just likes wearing a skirt and that’s why he’s doing it?”

I consider this possibility briefly and silently acknowledge that she has a point, but, “It can’t be that simple. There has to be something more to it.”

“Why?” She asks, sounding exasperated.

“Because it’s Baz. He is always planning something. He’s just trying to distract me,” I explain to her for the third time in just as many days.

She sighs, like she’s giving up on me. “Fine. But consider this: your obsession with Baz’s skirt has nothing to do with the fact that he might be plotting something.”

“What do you mean? What else would it have to do with?”

She shakes her head. “Only you can answer that, and I think it will be better if you figure it out on your own.”

I frown, confused. I don’t have any idea what Penny is on about. The only reason I’m watching Baz so much is to stop his wicked plots.

...Right?

I look over to his table, but he’s gone. He must have left while I was talking to Penny, which means he’s on his way to football practice and is probably changing into his football shorts at this moment.

There’s a weird pang in my chest, almost like disappointment, but I know that can’t be right. Why would I be disappointed by Baz taking off the skirt?

I wouldn’t. What Penny said is just messing with my head.

I quickly finish my tea and scones and rush out the doors to follow Baz. I can’t let him out of my sight.

 Baz

I cannot wait until this dare is over. I’m not sure that I can handle another minute of Simon’s watchful gaze following me everywhere I go. It has gotten worse this week, and I swear I’m going to suffocate under the weight of all of his attention.

Everyone else in the school got over me wearing this skirt after the first day – or rather, the first hour, but Simon seems to be getting more interested in it with every second that passes. I don’t understand why he cares so much. It’s just a skirt.

Luckily, there are only a couple more hours left of this ridiculous dare.

Dev and Niall agreed to let me change out of the skirt during football practice only if I immediately put it back on and wore it all the way through dinner and until I went up to my room for the night. (I can’t even begin to imagine what Coach Mac would have said if I had shown up to practice in a skirt.)

I already got enough attention from the skirt the first time I wore it. Everyone’s eyes were on me as I walked around the school in it. No one dared say a word to me about it, though. Probably because they knew that I wouldn’t hesitate to blast them away with just a few words and flick of my wand.

Now, as I head to the library after dinner, I tug at the skirt self-consciously, glad that I only have to wear this until after dinner. I can’t believe that I actually agreed to this bet. Or that I lost. Or that Dev just had this skirt lying around in his wardrobe.

“No questions,” he said as he handed it to me. I raised my eyebrows at him but said nothing.

I had to spell the skirt to fit me, but it wasn’t too far off from my own size. The only thing I didn’t change was the length. Most girls wear their skirts longer, but if I’m going to go through with this dare, I’m keeping the skirt exactly how Dev had it. I won’t lie, I’m curious as to where Dev might have gotten it, but I respect his privacy enough not to bother him about it.

I wish I could say the same for everyone else.

I’d probably be staring at me, too, because it’s so different from what I usually wear at school, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not annoyed. There is one person’s eyes on me that is particularly getting to me.

From the moment I stepped into the dining hall on Monday, Snow’s eyes have tracked my every moment. He was so shocked by my appearance that his mouth fell open, and he stared at me for a full minute before Bunce said something to him.

Ever since then, I have felt him following me, closer than ever before, and he looks like he wants to say something. He hasn’t yet, and I’m unsure what is holding him back. Even though I’ve been doing my best to avoid him, there have been several moments when he could have corned me and said whatever he wanted.

I am relieved he hasn’t, though, because I am simply not in the mood to listen to him make fun of me. Especially since if this weren’t so against the social norm, I might feel inclined to dress like this a little more often.

Simon Snow is the last person I want to hear making fun of me for wearing something that makes me feel more like myself than anything else.

 Simon

“Would you please stop drooling over Baz’s legs and focus. You were the one who wanted to study today.”

“I’m not drooling!” I say defensively, my voice a little too loud for the library.

“You’re like two minutes away from it. You haven’t stopped staring at his legs all day.”

She gives me this look that leaves absolutely no room for argument, so I press my lips tightly together and turn my attention back to my notes. We have an important exam coming up, but I can’t focus, not with Baz sitting over there dressed like that.

I have to confront him about it. Ask him what he’s plotting.

Finally, I’ve had enough, and when Baz gets up to go in search of a book, it’s the perfect opportunity.

I stand and Penny sighs but doesn’t say anything. This is likely paired with one of her signature eye rolls, but I can’t bring myself to look her in the face right now, so I don’t know for sure.

I watch Baz disappear between the stacks and follow after him.

Maybe I’ll actually be able to get him alone this time. I’ve been trying to talk to him all day, but I didn’t want to make a big scene in front of everyone, and I could never get him alone.

I find him towards the back of the library and realize that I never actually figured out what I would say to him once I finally got the chance to talk to him, and my mind goes blank as my eyes once again fall to the skirt he’s wearing.

“What the hell are you doing?” I blurt.

Well, that probably wasn’t the best thing to say.

 Baz

Simon’s exclamation startles me, but I go very still in the hopes that he won’t notice. I didn’t even know he was in the library. I thought I would be safe from him here, but sure enough, when I turn around, he’s standing behind me with an intense expression.

“What do you mean?” I sneer, trying to play it cool.

“I know you’re plotting something.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He takes a step closer to me, and my heart starts racing. My cheeks flush, too, and I’m not really sure why.

Simon’s eyes drop to my skirt as if that’s answer enough, and I’m pretty sure his own cheeks go a little red as stares at me.

That’s interesting, I think.

“You know, Snow, if you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do is say so.” I say it just to see how he’ll react. To test something.

He really is blushing now and stutters out a bunch of sounds that don’t make up any real words.

He doesn’t hit me, though. He doesn’t even deny it. His pale skin just keeps getting redder until it looks like all of the blood in his body might be in his face. It’s kind of cute but also confusing. Why is he reacting like this?

“That’s not—. I mean—. What are you planning?” He says, trying to sound fierce, but in reality, he just sounds nervous. It truly is interesting.

“Nothing. I just like wearing skirts.” I tell him the truth only because I know he won’t believe it.

He growls at me and takes another step forward. I try to back away from him, not trusting what I might do if he gets too close to me, but I bump into a shelf and have been effectively cornered by him.

“You’ve got me where you want me,” I say, a little too breathily. “Now, what?”

He shakes his head, and I’m not sure if it’s at me or himself. He doesn’t say anything, just takes another step forward until we’re mere inches apart.

I glance around us, but we’re all alone. He has me trapped, and I don’t even mind. Even if he were about to kill me, I don’t think I’d stop him. I might kiss him first, but I wouldn’t mind dying with Simon Snow this close to me.

A long moment stretches out between us as we stand like this, practically staring each other down. Then, his eyes move to my mouth then my skirt then back to my face, and I try not to shift under his gaze, try not to care.

But then something shifts in his expression, and he starts to lean in closer until our lips are a breath apart.

Simon

Maybe this is what Penny meant earlier.

I wasn’t obsessed about Baz wearing a skirt because I thought he was plotting something. It was because I was attracted to him in it.

Once that thought enters my mind, it’s like everything else seems to click into place.

The skirt isn’t the only thing attracting me to Baz. I’ve felt this way about him before, I just always buried it and threw myself into figuring out what he was plotting.

But it was always so much more than that.

I watch Baz a lot. The way he casts spells, using his magic so effortlessly. The way he pushes his out of his sparkling grey eyes when it comes loose from its slicked back state. The way his hair almost starts to curl when he gets out of the shower. The way he smiles when he thinks no one is watching, like he is truly happy.

The thoughts and realizations keep circling in my mind until I realize that I desperately want to kiss him.

I start to lean forward but stop, wondering if I’m making a mistake. What if Baz doesn’t want this?

 Baz

Simon hesitates briefly, meeting my eyes, like he’s waiting for me to tell him no or push him away, but I’m not going to stop him. I don’t have that kind of willpower.

I nod at him, and that’s all it takes for him to close the distance between us.

His lips press to mine softly at first then more firmly once he realizes I’m really not going to stop him. I can’t stop the sigh that escapes me as he kisses me like it’s the only thing he wants to do.

I kiss him back slowly, afraid that this is all a dream, but it’s not. It’s so utterly real. Simon Snow is kissing me.

With that thought, I put everything I have into the kiss, tilting my head to deepen it and putting my hands on his hips to deepen the kiss.

It feels weird to feel Simon against my bare leg. I mean, it feels weird to have him this close in general, but also, it feels nice.

He’s so warm, and I didn’t realize that I had been freezing all day with my legs uncovered until Simon’s natural body heat starts to warm me up.

I smile into the kiss as one of his hands finds its way into my hair, tangling there. His other hand slides down my side until he reaches the edge of my shirt and hem of the skirt. He stops there, like he’s found exactly what he was looking for.

Damn, I think, pulling back to catch my breath, if I had known that wearing a skirt would get this reaction from Simon, I might have worn one a lot sooner.

Apparently I say that last bit out loud because Simon agrees. “You should. It looks better on you than anyone else.”

I feel all of the blood in my body rise to my face in a deep blush, and I kiss Simon again in the hopes that he won’t notice how pleased I am by his words.

I have never told anyone how dressing in girl’s clothes really makes me feel, so it makes me feel elated to hear Simon say he likes it.

This isn’t the first time I’ve tried on a skirt, but it’s the first time I’ve worn one in front of other people. Which is why I accepted the bet. And why I intentionally lost. I wanted to try it out. I wanted to see how other people might react while being able to say that I didn’t have a choice if things didn’t go too well.

This week has given me hope, though. It made me feel like I could dress like this more often if I wanted to. And maybe I really will.

I don’t think I would want to dress like a girl all the time or that I want to be a girl, but occasionally dressing like this makes me feel really good. It feels right.

I kiss Simon harder, happy that I can be myself and be allowed to kiss him when I never thought I would be able to do either of those things.

[javierpinme]

Part One: New Beginnings

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Infidelity, angst, friends to lovers, mentions of alcohol

Rating: M (might change)

Summary:  You’ve lived in a small town for half of your life and nothings really changed until it did. Moving halfway across the country you find lasting friendships and a love you needed at the exactly the right time.

A/N: There is not a ton of Frankie in this one since I wanted to set the tone for the reader before they meet! They don’t see/meet each other until near the end (or do they?) I wanted to build the reader’s relationships with the people in her life as there will more parts.

AO3

Masterlist

Want to be on my taglist?

It’s hard to build friendships as an adult without being under the pretense of school or college. It’s especially difficult when you decide to move across the country. Away from your family and friends, but it’s what you needed. Seeing the same four walls you lived in, that same greasy diner that was always your go-to after one too many tequila shots the night before, and that one ex from high school that you’d really rather forget while running errands were making you feel complacent. Wake up. Drink. Eat. Work. Sleep. Repeat. You’ve spent most of your life here. You weren’t about to spend the rest of it here. So, you did something completely unlike you. You packed up your life and moved. The house was beautiful. You’d never owned anything in your life; just rented so this is a major upgrade for you. The first sight that greets you is the stairs after living in a first floor unit for most of your life. The house isn’t in perfect shape, but it’s yours which is all that matters.

The movers have left so you finally had the place to yourself. You couldn’t help the defeated sigh that fell from your mouth at the sight of all the boxes. If your sister and friends were here you’d probably be knee deep in pizza and wine while attempting to build furniture. You gave your brain the space to let that thought sink in, but you craved the freedom so you didn’t let that sit too long. You came here to build your own memories; no room for regrets now. So, the first thing you decide to acclimate yourself with is the closest liquor store and that is how you met Hannah.

The first thing you hear after getting lost reading a wine label is a loud oof before slamming into somebody. You only barely managed to catch the bottle before it became one with the outdated tile.

“I am SO sorry! I’m not even going to lie to you I was not watching where I was going. Are you okay? You didn’t drop anything did you?”

You manage to form a sentence between your scrambled apologies in between. The first thing you notice when you look at the face standing in front of you is how pretty she is. That typical blonde hair and blue eyes type that reminds you of the girls you went to high school with. You wince. Stop it.

“Oh, I’m okay! It was more the residual shock of it really. You must really need that bottle because you were just about ready to run me over in your pursuit to the cash register. Cheating ex or bad date?”

She says with a laugh while pointing at the wine still in your hand. Oh, she’s nice. You immediately feel guilty for that initial judgment when first looking at her.

“Oh, neither. I just moved here and need sustenance to unpack. Who knew you could fit your entire life into boxes?” You mirror her laugh.

“I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone. Walk around the neighborhood and find the necessities which is how I ended up here.” You say with a twirl in your finger.

"Ah, the one down the street that's just begging to be demolished?" She says while snapping her fingers with a mischievous smile.

"Hey, don't talk about her like that. She's old, but she's got character." You can't help the lopsided grin you give her. She hasn't even seen the dream kitchen with those beautiful green cabinets.

“Hey, well if you need help with that-“ her eyes shifting to the bottle, “I live right down the street so I can come over. I know moving somewhere unfamiliar can be a little daunting especially if you’re alone.” You can’t help the wide smile forming at her sweet gesture.

“And to help me unpack right?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I mean I’m better at draining a bottle, but if it’s necessary I will work for food and drinks. But, if I’m going to help you we are going to need way more than that.”

She finishes her sentence grabbing more bottles while traveling through the aisles. The sound of you’ve got to try this one and this one’s local in between aisle changes filling the store. You assure her that she is not off the hook with helping even with the promise of the “best merlot you’ve ever had in your life.”

Bags filling both of your hands and way too much alcohol for just two people to consume you make your way up the steps. Hannah pauses and looks up at the house.

“I was right. It should have been demolished. Will the porch cave in before I make it inside?” She says with skepticism at the foundation of your new home.

“Probably eventually but-“ you turn around to face her, “she’ll last for now. Come on, I haven’t even showed you the best part!”

You open your door and make your way inside leaving the door open for her to follow. You faintly hear from the kitchen “I seriously doubt that”, and you can’t help your chuckle at the remark.

You’ve always wanted a fixer upper; probably from all the HGTV shows you immersed yourself in as a child and the fact you’ve only ever lived in apartments. The first and only thing you managed to unpack first was your wine glasses. You definitely made a point to label them in big writing while packing up back home. A decision you are patting yourself on the back for now.

“So, do you like pizza? I know a good place. Pizza and wine should always be paired with move-in days. Oh, you’re right. This is probably the only good part of your house.”

Hannah leaned on the counter next you before shifting to test the weight taking in the scene of your kitchen.

“Love pizza. It’s not there yet, but I definitely have some plans with it; starting with keeping the color of those cabinets.”

In between sips of your glasses of wine you start to collaborate over your ideas of making it functional and aesthetically pleasing.

It didn’t take very long to start building friendships with the people in your area. You even started joining Sunday brunches and you were overly ecstatic finding out that bottomless mimosas existed. They didn’t have these at the diners back home. They even started assisting you with choosing paint swatches and going to Home Depot because you just had try that DIY project of making your own lounge chair that you found scrolling on Youtube.

“I think your measurements are a little off.”

Alex, probably one of your favorites of the group, mirrors the tilt of your head with his arms crossed. He co-owns a woodworking business with his husband so you wanted him there for any adjustments and moral support. Unfortunately for you, he wanted you to learn first which really meant fail.

You grimace at your handiwork and say, “yeah, I think maybe I should stick with what I’m good at.”

With a breathy laugh he adds, “give yourself some credit. You managed to tear up the carpet in the living room AND still able to keep the original hardwood. That’s no easy feat.”

You’ve somehow managed to create a whole support system in the little time that you’ve spent here. You’ve finally had the time and resources to create your own little touches that make your house now a home.

“Hannah, can’t we just stay in tonight? I’ve already been defeated twice by the light fixture in the living and my fingers are still tingling from the faulty power box. I’m really not in the mood.”

You give her the biggest puppy eyes you can manage while exaggeratingly lifting you fingers.

“Oh no, you’re going out to the bar tonight. You’ve been here for months and you really need to get yourself out there. You’re hot. Own it. Besides, it’s just you and me so there’s no pressure.”

She says with a swat to your ass and a push towards your closet. The only response you can add to that is Hmph.

The bar is nice enough with the dim lighting and it’s not so loud that you can’t hear yourself talk. Hannah insisted you wear one of your nicer dresses, but you wanted to feel like yourself so you opted for a t-shirt tucked into light wash jeans. If you were going to meet anyone tonight you wanted to set the standard for anything that could happen at the start. You’re still nursing your second beer while Hannah is on her third shot of the night. You feel a presence to your right and a sharp pinch to your thigh on your left. Hannah is of course attempting to alert you to the attractive man on the other side of you as if you didn’t notice. You turn around with a pained look on your face to her which she just shrugs off before making herself scarce.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Your attention is brought back to the man to your right. He is very cute in a boyish kind of way and you briefly wonder if he’s talking to someone else. He’s dressed like he just got out of a business meeting, but his rolled sleeves are definitely doing something for you.

“Sure. What’s your name?” You say with the flirtiest smile you can muster.

“Joey. Nice to meet you.”

God, his smile must do wonders for his conquests. It’s working for you quite honestly. You completely lose track of time talking to him and see out of the corner of your eye Hannah leaving the bar holding onto a man with salt and pepper hair and scruff. Looks like she got lucky too. She gives you a wink as she walks out the door and you look to see where he was sitting in case you need to remember faces. Seems like he was out with some of his friends, but you didn’t get a thorough look because your attention is immediately brought back to Joey. You set a reminder for yourself to check in with her before you go to bed tonight.

It’s been a constant date after date and you were really beginning to develop feelings for him. Sure, you always tried to convince him you didn’t need to be wooed with all these extravagant dates. You were just happy to spend time with him. You didn’t need to go to a fancy restaurant to tell you that. It just wasn’t your style, but it made him happy so you went along with it. You had initially assumed him to be a one night stand, but you were pleasantly surprised to hear from him the next day asking to take you out dinner.

Your muscles in your stomach are straining from how hard you’re laughing at America’s Funniest Home Videos on the TV. Joey is sitting next to you on the couch with takeout cartons loitered all over your coffee table. The living room is starting to lose its natural lighting due to the day coming to a close; the only light source in the room being the lamp sitting on the end table next to the couch and the glow from the TV. You notice Joey looking at you with a far off look.

“What’s wrong?” You ask with a furrow in your brow. “Nothing.” His face shifting to a more pleasant tone once he turns back to the TV. The two of you had settled into a routine at your house. You had even introduced him to your friends and they really seemed to enjoy spending time with him. It was easy for them to fall for his charms as you did.

“Come on, hurry up. You’re supposed to be helping me pick out an outfit for tonight!”

Hannah still continued to see the man from the bar, Santi, his friends called him.

“If I’m supposed to be helping you pick an outfit then why are we in the lingerie section?” You ask with a sly grin on your face.

“That’s for after, of course. Gotta keep it interesting.”

Her laugh followed by her adding some bras and panties to her hands. You agreed to come with her tonight to officially meet him and his friends. You’ve heard enough about him from her. Some very intimate details as well. They weren’t exactly exclusive to each other and as far as you knew they were dating other people which you respected. You were nervous about meeting them, but you knew it was only a matter of time until Hannah would want to do this. You trusted her judgment and you were already comfortable that it was going to be in the bar you usually ventured out to.

In her words, “your only forms of entertainment can’t just be your home projects, Joey and me, you know? You deserve to have fun too and these guys will show you a good time I promise” while ringing up her purchases.

You barely manage to make it through the door of the bar before you feel a breeze next to you from her speeding to Santi with a kiss. You lovingly shake your head at her dramatic antics and make your way over to the table. It’s a little awkward at first since Hannah still had yet to let go of the man sitting next to her and you didn’t know how to start a conversation with these men with what was going on next to you.

“Sorry. I’m Santi, but everyone calls me Pope.”

He reaches over to shake your hand with a tone that is definitely not apologetic at all, but you find it amusing. You like him already. You can definitely see why Hannah was interested, but not your type.

He starts introducing his friends off to you. Will. He seems like the more mellow type of the group and his call sign is Ironhead. Benny is just Benny since he’s the baby of the group.

“He’s the menace of all of us so watch out for this one.” Will ruffles his brother’s hair for added measure which Benny recoils from.

Then, Frankie, they call him Catfish. Oh he’s handsome, but not in the boyish way that Joey is. He’s handsome in a more ruggish kind of way and you can’t seem to break eye contact from him. Your eyes don’t know where to go first so they travel from his deep brown eyes, to the bare patches on the beard he can’t seem to grow that you find yourself wanting to kiss, and to the curls peeking out of his standard heating oil hat. You find yourself itching to take that hat off and run your fingers through the nape of his hair.  Stop. He’s the more reserved one in the group which makes sense since he really hasn’t fully spoken more than a few words at a time to you. You can’t control the side glances you keep shooting at him throughout the night. You’re just appreciating the view and maybe conjuring up a few very much domestic fantasies in your head. Liar.

You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom to get a grip on your emotions. Tilting your head at your reflection you point an accusing finger “get yourself together. You ca—.“  You jump at the intrusion of an elderly woman walking into the otherwise empty bathroom; a quizzical look forming on her face from your actions. Your nervous laugh gets the best of you. “It isn’t what it- I don’t always do this.” You’re not sure why you feel the need to explain yourself since she’s already closed the stall before you even got the chance to finish your sentence. You find yourself even more flustered leaving the bathroom than before going into it. This is going to be a long night.

***

Frankie was nervous when Santi first told him that Hannah would be bringing a friend. He remembers you from the night Santi first left with her. How could he forget? You had his attention the moment you stepped into the bar, but by the time he finally worked up the nerve to talk to you another guy had already swooped in. It wasn’t that surprising considering and it was probably for the best. He really wasn’t in any headspace to be in a relationship. His eyes followed you when you left to go to the bathroom in a hurry and he could just feel Santi’s eyes burning into him. He knew. You were exactly his type and he hoped to whoever was up above that he would just leave him to his hopeless crush without interfering.

***

You sit down at the table preparing to come up with some segway into the conversation between everyone when Santi breaks it with a loud clap calling your name out. “So, are you seeing anyone?”

You miss the glare that Frankie shoots him and the embarrassed groan he makes. You don’t miss the warning tone Will gives when calling Santi’s name out, but you get the feeling you’re not entitled to know what that’s about.

“Yes, I am.” Why does it feel so wrong to say that? “His name is Joey.” Hannah chimes in while rubbing Santi’s shoulders.

You also miss the sight of Frankie’s shoulders deflating at that piece of information. Your answer seems to satisfy Santi since he drops it after that and moves on to a different topic. “Benny, when’s your next fight?” It’s Friday apparently and all the guys along with Hannah are going to support him.

Will shifts towards you and says, “you can come if you want.” You cringe on the inside; your insecurities getting the best of you. If you want. They’re only inviting you because you’re there at the moment. “Maybe.” You won’t.

Somehow, Hannah has convinced you to go out with them a second time. “Come on, you can bring Joey since you’re so nervous! Please bring him,” she says with pleading eyes.

“I’m not nervous!” Liar. There is a sliver of truth to her statement, but you don’t want to tell her the reason for your nerves is seeing Frankie again. Yet here you were sitting in a booth with Joey across from Hannah and the rest of the guys.

“Jesus Hannah, he’s not going anywhere.”

You say with a loud laugh at her not so subtle PDA with Santi. “Sorry.” She said with a swipe of trying to remove her lipstick from Santi’s face; her smile never leaving her face. Frankie hasn’t looked at you at all tonight and you can’t help but wonder what you did wrong. You see those eyes crinkle and that cute dimple when he’s dedicating his attention to everyone else at the table, but disappears when his eyes go in your general direction.

At some point the guys and Hannah walk off to buy more drinks leaving you with Joey. He’s hasn’t hid his disinterest of the night at all even when the guys were trying to include him.

“Why are you so grumpy?” “I’m not.” His deep sigh a dead giveaway to his sour mood. “I’m just not vibing with them that’s all.” His eyes following the guys by single file line as he said it. You assure him that you can leave soon which after an hour or so you do.

Tonight’s events must have tired you out more than you thought because you’re fighting yawns the entire ride to Joey’s apartment. You don’t usually spend time here since he prefers staying at your place, but his place was a lot closer to the bar. The minute you walk inside you walk straight to his bedroom so you can promptly pass out as Joey showers. As you start to pull back the blankets something catches your eye. That’s not mine. Your heart rate is starting to speed up at the thought that’s forming in your mind. You reach down and grab a bra that was haphazardly thrown on the floor. The thing is you’d recognize that bra anywhere because you were there when she bought it; the day you were meeting Santi for the first time. You almost didn’t hear the water being shut off in the bathroom and the footsteps coming into the bedroom.

“Hey, what’s goin o—“

His eyes follow where you’re looking and then back up to your face. He’s not even trying to defend himself or come up with some shitty excuse that wouldn’t work anyway.

“How long?” Your voice is barely managing to stay steady while still staring at the incriminating evidence of your betrayal.

“How long, Joey?” His hesitation gives you your answer. It’s been a while.

[juniorgman187]

The Boy Next Door (Spencer Reid Imagine)

gif credits @toyboxboy​ Summary: The boy next door falls in love with the girl next door. Need I say more? Category: Fluff, Angst Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid  Content Warning: Death, unrequited love, heartbreak Word Count: 10.4k A/N: POV switches from Spencer to Reader indicated by “᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Ground coffee, dates, and greek yogurt, all neatly encased in a brown paper bag. 

Those were the things I was holding the day I first met you.

(You should know that I wouldn’t tamper with any of the moments that I’ve been so fortunate to have with you - I’ve watched enough “Dr. Who” to know that tampering with the past, even changing the smallest thing, could drastically affect the future). But if I could, I would probably change the precarious position you found me in that day. 

When you exited your apartment, I had my knee hiked up embarrassingly high to support the weight of my groceries from underneath, leaving me to balance on one leg while the bag wobbled on my thigh as I ransacked my pocket for my keys. By the time you came out, I had been like this for the past few minutes, and if the task wasn’t already harder than it should’ve been to accomplish, you didn’t make it any better.

You walked out of the door in that wispy skirt and a denim jacket that swallowed your torso whole; your unwieldy boots clunked against the wood floors of our hallway. You even didn’t bother locking your door behind you after leaving - that’s how trusting you were. While I must admit, I found the action, or lack thereof, to be quite naive, it was endearing, too. 

I, for one, am a firm believer that actions are indicative of character and from what I gathered: you trust easily, and at times, in a misguided manner.

After several seconds of being in your gravity, I figured you earnestly hadn’t seen me, given the fact that not once had you looked up from your phone to acknowledge my presence. Not to mention, your headphones were buried in your ears, blocking out any noise I could’ve been making with my unsteady stance or seemingly unfindable keys that would’ve, otherwise, made you known of my existence. Your music was so loud I could hear it from where I stood, clear as day. 

Still don’t know how you haven’t gone deaf yet, (y/n). One of life’s greatest mysteries, I suppose. 

It would be a gross understatement to claim that I couldn’t take my eyes off you. It was more than that. I felt entranced by you, like I was under your spell. Your perfume was poison, wafting through the hallway as you walked past me to descend the flight of stairs. I was in raptures from the way your wired earbuds got tangled with your hair. Normally, I couldn’t bear the thought of sharing headphones with someone, but I’d do it in a heartbeat with you. 

I’d do a lot of things with you, actually.

I had to stop myself from trailing your movements when you reached a space in the hall directly behind me, and even then, my actions only ceased because my head couldn’t physically turn that far to watch you. 

It was then that I recalled owls and how they’ve evolved into creatures that can turn their head a complete 180 degrees. Of course, that’s a trait meant for survival, merely an adaptation that allows them to detect danger or predators, but I wasn’t watching a predator, and I suppose that’s precisely why I wasn’t given the ability to turn my head so far. Because it was you I was watching - the girl next door (literally and figuratively) - nothing remotely close to a threat. I’d never been jealous of owls before, but in that moment, I wished nothing more than to be one just so I could get another look at you. 

I forced myself to resume my unfinished task out of fear that you might finally notice me and become alarmed by my prolonged staring. Once more, I was sorting through the pocket of my pants for the key to unlock my door. Behind me, your foot was about to land on the next step of the stairwell, but instead, it quickly retreated at the sound of my groceries hitting the floor.

If there was ever a doubt in your head that you caused the collapse of my paper bag’s contents, there shouldn’t be.

It was you. It was all you.

I was too distracted by your poisonous scent and chunky boots to even notice my groceries struggling to balance on the precipice.

When I ascertained the mess I had made - the mess I knew you could hear even through your cacophonous music - I wanted nothing more than to find my keys and disappear into my apartment to mask the immediate shame I was feeling. My mind spun into a panic, my body incapacitated from the shock, and the first thing I could think to do was abandon my spilled groceries in the hall so you might not see me before I fled, but you were too quick. Your heart of gold made it impossible for that to be achieved.

“Oh my goodness, here! Let me help you.”

You knelt to the ground before I could even register your sudden presence and the lack of distance between us, let alone comprehend that your warm voice was speaking words meant for me.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ve got it.”

If you thought I was pushing you away, you should know that those weren’t my intentions. I was only emphasizing my ability to do it alone so that you might leave me to my devices - a state of conditions where I could actually think. With you so close, I simply couldn’t do that. Even now, it’s still an uphill battle to talk to you with a clear head.

“No, please. I insist. I’ve got plenty of time.” You assured me, tucking back strands of your hair that got in the way of your sight. I wondered then what it’d be like to do that to you myself. The vision ended there. 

“A Teenager In Love” by Dion and the Belmonts cut into my thoughts. That’s the song that was playing on your headphones. And that’s exactly what I felt like.

A teenager in love.

It was also the song you paused to give your undivided attention to me.

“I’m (y/n), by the way. I live right next door. 3B.” You informed me, as if I hadn’t just come to that same conclusion when I observed you walk out of that door only moments ago. You extended your hand into the air between us for a handshake. I wasted no time returning it.

“Spencer.”

You batted your eyelashes and looked up at me with those unassuming doe eyes. 

God, were you doing that on purpose? Were you trying to kill me?

When our hands interlocked, I couldn’t help but notice how yours fit so perfectly in mine, like it was made-to-measure. It led me to the belief that my hands were specifically fashioned for the particular use of holding yours. The shake lingered for a second longer than necessary, and I saw it in the way your eyes flickered down to where our bodies met, wondering why it was taking me so long to pull away.

“It’s nice to meet you, Spencer.” 

I’ve never liked my name so much until I heard it on your tongue. It made me forget all about the mess and the shame and the fear of disturbing you. That is until I saw you sliding the last of my groceries back into the paper bag.

“I’ll see you later then?”

You had stood up before I could ask you not to go, wiping your knees of any dust they might’ve collected on the floor where you knelt in front of me.

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.” I dumbly answered back, watching you descend the stairs from a distance once more.

“Have a nice night, Spencer!” I heard you say before you disappeared below the ground that I stood on. You already had your headphones back in and were long gone before I could return the sentiment. I did want you to have a nice night, though. Even if I didn’t say it in time. 

Then again, I guess there was a lot I didn’t say in time - right, (y/n)?

Two days went by before I saw you again. 

You weren’t alone.

I was reading when I heard the sound of footsteps outside my door, unintentionally giving me full liberty to hear the conversation partaking as well.

“What’s his name?” Your friend asked you.

Originally, I was adamant about not purposefully eavesdropping - no matter how tempting it was or how amply I could hear. You deserved better than that ...  but how could I help myself when I heard you answer your friend, “Spencer.”

It was the sound of my own moniker that lured me to the door, where I pressed my ear against it.

“Is he cute?”

“Very.” You gushed to her, my own heart swelling two sizes too big for my poor chest to contain.

“Do you want to fuck him?” Your friend giggled. You hesitated to speak. “Oh my god, have you already fucked?”

“No!” You defensively screeched.

“But you’ve thought about it!”

“Will you lower your voice? He lives right there! What if he hears you?”

I peeked through the peephole to spy on this encounter, brainlessly ducking down when I saw you eyeing my door curiously. After I finally slowed down the cadence of my heart, the realization dawned on me that you couldn’t possibly have been able to see me from the outside view of my peephole, but it still felt like you had; your eyes pierced through my soul, bewitching my body and soul.

Luckily for you - unluckily for me, I suppose - you and your friend vanished into your apartment before I could hear the rest of that conversation. I didn’t need to, though. What I heard was enough to keep me up all night. Had I heard anything more, I’m not sure how many more hours of sleep I would’ve lost just thinking about you. 

Hours I could’ve spent reading. Hours I could’ve spent writing. Hours I could’ve spent, but time that I would never take back. Not for anything in the world.

Our next interaction took place the following week. 

It was 5 a.m and Hotch had called us all in early, so I was already out the door before the sun was up, but evidently, not before you were up. Because when I left my apartment, there you were, lingering in the doorway, leaning against - what I had to assume was - your very much unlocked front door. 

“Oh!” You flinched and gasped, while ripping the headphones out of your ears. “You scared me, Spencer.”

“Good morning to you, too, (y/n).” I quipped, puckering my lips slightly to reduce the immense size of my zealous smile before grinning back at you again, this time with a much smaller smile - one much less discouraging. 

You were exactly what I needed to see to make my morning better, and your hair in a ponytail and your black leggings only made the view that much sweeter.

“What are you doing up so early?” You had asked me inquisitively.

“I got called into work.”

“Oh.” 

You sounded so disappointed, and I couldn’t help but feel that I’d just let you down. The pout of your lips and deflation of your shoulders only solidified that.

It was then where I should’ve left you alone and gone to work, which I was already considerably late for, but I couldn’t help myself. I would’ve worried about you all day if I hadn’t asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You tried to wave me away down the staircase, but I knew better than to leave. You understood my maintained foothold as a silent communication that I wouldn’t walk away unless you told me what was bothering you so you reluctantly gave in.

“Well, honestly, I’ve been standing out here since like 4:30, trying to convince myself to go on a run, but ... I’m actually kind of scared to. I just, I don’t know if I feel safe running alone in the dark.” 

You never met my eyes, they were only fixated on the earbud cord you were rolling between your fingers to make brief circles in the air. 

“You know what?”

From those words alone, you perked back up. 

“I’m already late, so I can ... I’ll run with you. If you want.”

In seven little words, I managed to gain all your trust. That’s all it took for you to never be ashamed of your feelings in front of me. You trusted me to always respond to your vulnerability like this, and I knew then, what the weight of having your trust felt like. I could never wish to break it.

Your joy was so uncontainable to the point where you were emboldened enough to show me your appreciation through a hug so big that I couldn’t understand how your petite body was capable of supporting something of its size. You wrapped your arms around my neck, pulling me down to your height despite already balancing on the tips of your toes. I had to remind myself not to indulge in your embrace too much, otherwise I might never have let you go.

Your hair smelled like a certain flower my mother used to put in a vase on our dining table. It’s the same flower that she grows in the garden of her assisted living home at present. It’s such a distinct scent - magnolias - I’ll never forget. But now whenever I pass those beloved magnolias during my visitations, the flowers from my childhood dining room won’t be what I associate it with anymore. 

You’ll be what I think of.

I was met with the cruel reminder of what I’d agreed to when you left my arms. There’s not much I dislike in this world as much as exercise, but for you - I’d run to the ends of the earth. I mean that.

“You’re my hero!” You exclaimed when we reached our apartments again after that treacherous run, which felt more like a marathon and a half to me.

I would’ve said something back, but I was still trying to catch my breath, even folding over my bent knees to stop myself from panting so hard. For a moment there, I was sincerely upset that you weren’t nearly as breathless as I was. Were you just that perfect in every conceivable way? Not even a semblance of windedness from the miles and miles we just ran? 

How unfair. Have pity on my poor soul.

“I had so much fun. We should do that again sometime.” You added.

Again, I would’ve responded to your exclamation, but I was still very much out of breath. You didn’t seem to mind, though. You even offered me a sip of your water. I politely declined, which I meant as no insult. I only refused because I would not have been able to handle the effects of tasting you on it.

Thankfully, I’d caught my breath before the next time we encountered each other. This time I could actually speak. 

It was two in the morning and I’d just come home from an exhausting case, feeling more ready to sink into the depths of my bed than ever. Almost the entire way up the stairs, I was lethargically dragging my feet up each step to get to my apartment ... until I saw you. 

“Hey, it’s you! 2B.” 

Like a siren singing to a ship of sailors, your voice called out to me from the top stair, shocking me when I came around the corner - a most welcome surprise. 

“Hey.” I cooed back softly.

Despite my mind firing impulses to run to you, my feet weren’t listening. I was stopped in my tracks by the mere sight of you.

It wasn’t lost on me that the bags under my eyes were probably heavier and darker than they ever had been before, and that my hair was in complete shambles from where I’d run my fingers through them in distress one too many times, and that my loosened tie that hung from the collar of my skirt looked disheveled, but you? You were still a radiant view to behold, even at 2 a.m. especially at 2 a.m. The sight of you shocked my onerous heart like a defibrillator on bare skin, reigniting my entire being. 

I could finally breathe again. 

My posture straightened, my head raised, and my smile returned. You looked just as excited to see me as I was to see you and it was such a warm feeling.

“So where have you been at this hour, young man? Your girlfriend’s?” 

I should’ve noticed then the way you slurred your words together, but I think I was blinded by the bliss of being able to see right through you for the first time. 

I could see that you were compensating. You wanted to look happy for me in the event that I did have a girlfriend, but underneath, you were morbidly curious, desperately hoping that I didn’t. For you, I chose the more merciful option - giving into your clandestine concern so as not to torture you any longer with the fear that I was in a relationship.

“I -” My own mirthless chuckle cut into my sentence. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

And I saw it - I saw the look of relief on your face.

“I was at work,” I honestly told you, my feet resuming their climb up the stairs. “So, why are you still up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

By the time you answered, I’d reached the top step where you were perched, wearing that big flannel. It devoured your figure, the collar of the shirt hanging off your shoulders, the cuffs of the sleeves stretching way past your hands, the hem of the shirt falling at your thighs. That’s all you were wearing for pajamas, just a big shirt, not even shoes or socks to cover your feet from the shiny Merbau floors. It took all of me not to fasten one more of the flannel’s buttons to protect your modesty, but really, who was I protecting you from? Guys just as perverse and impure as me? 

My jaw tensed as a reminder to myself not to wonder about what was underneath the flannel, or what wasn’t. 

You shifted from the middle of the stair to the side, making room for me to sit beside you. Our proximity enabled me to notice your usual scent of magnolias was replaced with something much less agreeable - a scent that didn’t suit you.

Liquor.

At the exact moment I looked down at your face to locate the signs of intoxication, you’d taken it upon yourself to rest your head on my shoulder, blocking my view. I knew it wasn’t your intention to hide your face from me, but it was hard to believe that you were doing this just to get closer to me. Was it the alcohol that stole your inhibitions and unearthed the confidence to touch me further? Was this what you had wanted to do all this time but couldn’t without liquid courage? And I wonder, even with a calmer disposition created by liquor, were you still feeling first time nerves? Or were you the luckier of the two of us, fortunately avoiding the agony of a racing heart?

“So what’s keeping you up?” My voice croaked, trying to maintain a nonchalant attitude to your otherwise intimidating actions.

“This stupid guy.”

At first, I was sure that you were talking about someone else, and I prepared my weary heart to listen to you pour your soul out about ‘this stupid guy’ to me, but then I got smarter and recalled the conversation that took place not too long ago, the one that kept me up all night.

Was I the ‘stupid guy?’

“Tell me about him.”

“He’s ... he’s so tall.” You had laughed. “And he’s got this great smile. He’s super nice, too. But he’s the kind of guy that you can’t really figure out, but you want to, you know what I mean?”

I trained my eyes to stay forward and not look at you so that your resting head might not be disturbed by the action, but I wanted to look at you. I wanted to see those micro-expressions and read your face. I needed to know if you were talking about me.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“If he were any other guy, I’d be upfront with him, but this guy ... he’s different. He scares me, and his rejection scares me even more,” You went quiet for longer than a second and this time I actually did have to move my head to check on you in case you’d suddenly passed out. But when I went to look down at you, I was met with the shocking view of those batted eyelashes and big doe eyes again.

“What do you think I should do, 2B?”

I knew it. Those eyes can’t lie to me.

You were talking about me.

“I think you should tell him how you feel. You might be surprised.”

“Yeah …” Your voice faded out when you replaced your head on my shoulder. “Maybe.”

“He might feel the same way.” I whispered.

“You think so?”

“I do.”

“How do you know?”

It took me a moment to gather the right answer, but even with as extensive a vocabulary as I was equipped with, every single word in it was failing me. Though ultimately unsatisfactory, the only thing I could manage to say that was honest and quaint was, “He’d be crazy if he didn’t.”

The air was still. Not a word from either of us. Not even a peep, until the sounds of your snores revealed the true cause of the silence - you’d fallen asleep, and most likely before I had found it in me to confess my feelings. I smiled still, though. At least you’d finally gone to sleep.

Without another thought, I slid my hand under your knees with the other hand at the small of your back to lift you off the stairwell and carry you back to your apartment. And no surprise to me when all I had to do was press my arm against the door to open it.

You never do lock that thing, do you?

As I entered your apartment, I did my best not to gape at the surroundings, for it felt like an invasion of privacy without your verbal consent willingly granting me the permission to do so. I quickly located the bedroom using only the profound knowledge of my own apartment’s configuration that, for obvious reasons, identically matched yours. I made sure to sit you upright against your pillows in the event that you choked on your vomit, but I held high hopes that you weren’t so inebriated as to have that come into fruition.

When it came time to leave you, I had to slip my hands out from under your body. I attempted to perform this action with the utmost caution, but I think the coarseness of my hands gliding against your velvet skin made it impossible not to feel. You shivered at my touch, waking ever so slightly. 

“Spencer?” You asked in your sleep. 

“Shh, it’s okay. Go back to sleep.” I spoke softly, stroking your hair so it might soothe you back to sleep. This alone felt like a pure moment, but it was much sweeter when your small hand wrapped around my wrist while you placed your other one on top of mine. You leaned your face into my palm and gently shut your eyes, trying to maximize your ability to feel my touch. I even saw a smile come upon your face. 

“Will you stay with me?” You whispered against my skin. 

I couldn’t say no, sweet girl. 

I stayed with you for two hours while you slept. I wanted to ensure that you were safe, but I knew that I shouldn’t stay the night. Not because I couldn’t trust myself, but because I was worried that you wouldn’t remember asking me to stay the night before. Honestly, I preferred that you woke up with no recollection of that night. Because while watching you sleep to fulfill your request, I was also experiencing the deepest regret of my life.

If I told you how I felt a second sooner, maybe you would’ve heard me and that night would’ve ended very differently.

I suppose that was our ‘missed chance #1.’

To be quite honest, that night did discourage me, and I made a conscious effort to avoid you in days to follow. I wish I could rationalize my behavior here, but I doubt that any explanation will suffice so I’ll settle for the truth.

I thought avoiding you would make the regret go away, and I hoped my feelings would leave with it. But if anything, the longing I felt to see you again, the urge for fate bring us back together, only made my infatuation greater.

As luck would have it, not even my most extravagant attempts to avoid you would work.

I had heard it from the first floor where I was getting my mail, a strangely familiar sound - the sound of knocking. It was growing more and more desperate with each step I took up the stairs and once I finally reached the top, I found the cause of this noise at last. It was you - knocking at my door.

“(Y/n)?”

You turned over your shoulder; your furrowed brows and disgruntled appearance faded at the sight of me.

“2B! I was wondering where you were. Where have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

It had only been 9 days, (y/n), but yes, I suppose it did feel like forever.

I responded with an answer I always seemed to give you, an answer you seemed to already anticipate. 

“Work.”

“Mmm, it always is work, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah …” I sheepishly agreed, looking down to avoid your scrutinizing gaze. It was easier to let you believe work is what kept me away from you, and not the insatiable craving to be with you, but I could feel you sensing my lie.

“Well, I hope you’re not busy on December 21st.”

“What’s December 21st?”

“My going away party.”

My stomach dropped; my heart stopped, and I think I could actually feel the lump in my throat solidify into a pit.

“Going away party?”

“Yeah, I’m going home for the holidays, back to Oregon so I can visit my dad for a while and um …” 

I saw the same look on your face that I saw all those days ago when you admitted you didn’t feel safe running alone. The fearful one, where you knew you had to gather the courage to be vulnerable. When you looked back up at me, I wish I would’ve seen those doe eyes, but no. Your eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears. 

“I think, I think it might be his last Christmas, so I, I got an open-ended ticket just so I can -”

I didn’t want you to explain any more to me if you couldn’t bear it. “Of course. That makes perfect sense.” 

“I’m not really sure when I’m coming back, so I wanted to have a little get together with my friends before I leave. And I was really hoping you’d be able to come. If you’re not busy with work, of course.”

How could I say no?

“I’ll be there.”

You sighed in relief and smiled at me in thanks. “Perfect. Thank you.”

You turned on your heels and vanished into your unlocked apartment before I could offer a hug, but I think even if I did have the chance, it wouldn’t have been enough to heal the hurt that penetrated deep within your soul. That was a pain, I couldn’t fix - no one could.

December 21st came faster than I imagined, and in no time at all, I was standing outside your unlocked door, trying to gather the confidence to enter.

I wore my best suit and tie specifically to impress you, but even if I was decorated with the finest silks, I still wouldn’t have looked as golden as you. Your neck, ears, and fingers were embellished with gold jewelry that sparkled ever so slightly under the pale yellow light of your apartment. You had styled your hair differently than I’d ever seen it, and I felt like I was seeing you for the first time all over again.

“You look …” Heavenly. Dazzling. Magnificent. “Breathtaking.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, 2B.” You drew closer, filling my senses with your poisonous perfume. 

“I especially like this tie.”

God help me when you walked your fingers up my tie. It took everything not to shudder at the sensation. I gulped to replenish my dry mouth while I stared into your eyes. Don’t ask me how I did it, but I found the willpower to break away from your hypnotizing gaze. 

“So,” I cleared my throat. “Where’s everyone else?” With these words, I walked away to catch my breath by your dining table, unintentionally abandoning you in the living room. In response, you sort of laughed, which made me concerned. 

“I actually asked you to come an hour earlier than everyone else.” To my quizzical brow, you answered, “I told my friends about you.”

You can imagine the butterflies in my stomach from the joy of you telling me that. “You did?”

“They had a bunch of questions for me, but I told them to save them for tonight since you were coming. I just thought we could have, like, a pre-party-run-through of what to say.”

“Got it.”

You were shocked at my willingness. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

The only person that I think is crazy, is the person that doesn’t admire you as deeply as I do, (y/n). 

In no time at all, we were sitting on your couch, facing each other, while playing a speed round of 21 questions. 

Here, we discovered our shared hobby of reading, you unearthed my job as a profiler (not without asking a million questions about it after), and I came to the realization of just how hopelessly devoted to you I was after a three-word question.

“Future baby names?” You casually asked. To say that that one caught me off guard would be the understatement of the year. 

“Future baby names?” I repeated; my cheeks flushed while I felt you anxiously waiting for an answer. Your eyes were expectant and the large gulp I took was just a means to stall time until I finally whispered, “Harper.”

You were silent for a second and I felt the need to explain myself. “I don’t know why, probably because of Harper Lee, but I just like the name.”

The biggest grin crept its way onto your face. “Shut up.” 

“What?”

“Shut up because that name is literally on my list!” You squealed delightfully. 

Truthfully, ever since that faithful first day I met you, I deliberately refused to let myself imagine a future with you, but after December 21st - that’s all I could do. All thanks to your “baby names” question. Would you believe that the first time we ever truly hung out, you were reading off all your favorite baby names and giving me a thorough description of why you liked each one? That seems like only a thing we’d do - after all almost every experience we had together was unconventional to some degree. 

That one hour of private bonding came and went, and soon enough, I was surrounded by the closest people in your life. And somehow, your boundless love made me feel like I was part of that close circle, too - like I always had been. 

First to greet me was April, your roommate in college. I recognized her voice instantly, recalling it as the one I heard outside my door all those nights ago. I tried not to smile at the memory of her crude question, “Do you wanna fuck him?” 

Arriving only seconds after her was Marty, short for Martin, and he’s Drew’s boyfriend. Drew worked with you at the grocery store, which was your first real job during college. 

After Drew and Marty, came Jillian and Janelle, twin sisters you met in your “Introduction to Psychology” class, a class you thought you would end up hating, but you actually ended up loving. 

“So, Spencer, what’s up with you and (y/n)?” 

I knew the question was bound to come up, and it came as no surprise to me that April was the one to be asking it. After the conversation I overheard weeks ago, I came to the discovery that she is someone who is all but forthright. Given the fact that this was the singular opportunity to catch me alone, since I was practically attached at your hip the entire night, April wasted no time in jumping at the opportunity to back me into a corner at my most vulnerable.

“We’re just friends.” I said through a cheeky smile that surely gave me away. The lie stung my tongue as it passed through my teeth, and I knew it was impossible to have fooled her.

“(Y/n) would kill me if she knew I told you this, but I’ve known her since she was 17, and I have never seen her light up the way she did when she was talking about you. Sometimes I catch her just smiling out of nowhere, and I have to think that you’re the reason why.” 

At the moment, my expressions were a completely separate entity from my mind because I could not control the grin that crept onto my face and I had no control over the minimization of it either. No matter how hard I tried to reduce it, it was impossible.

“Ever since her dad got sick, she’s been a different girl. But tonight, I think I finally have my old friend back again ... Thank you.” 

April’s pursed lip smile, in any other exigence, could be seen as insincere or facetious, but here, I knew it was a smile of gratitude and thanks. As April left my gravity, you were simultaneously entering it with a sly grin on your face. 

“What were you two talking about?” 

“You.” 

“Me?” Your voice heightened in pitch as you pretended to be shocked. “What about me?”

“Just about how much we both really like you.” 

“Oh, is that so?” 

“Indeed, it is so.” 

You came closer, wrapping your arms around my waist to draw me in nearer. You had your head cocked all the way up to look at me with those once again, batted eyelashes and doe eyes. 

“Well, I really like you too, 2B. And so do all of my friends.” 

A genuine laugh escaped me as I pushed you away from me and nudged you backward so we could integrate with the rest of the party again. It was all a charade to get you to look away from my visible joy. In the back of my mind lied the thought about what April said about your dad and how different you became following his diagnosis, but I knew better than to bring that up here, right now.

Once we immersed ourselves back into the group, I found you being even touchier with me. You would lock your arm around mine, or lie your head on my shoulder. Even while we were sitting on the couch, you were practically on my lap. I don’t think you were intentionally being so coquettish, but if you were - it was pure evil. Especially, when you left my lap to answer a call in the other room. 

I deliberately tried not to stare into the room you wandered in so that I could look as present in the moment with your friends as possible, for it would’ve been rude both to ignore them and to invade your privacy, but I could see your body language even in the poorly lit space. 

Something was wrong. 

In a one minute and fifty-three second phone call, December 21st went from the best night of my life, to the worst night of yours. 

I saw the way you came back into the living room with your eyes blankly staring into space. You were a walking ghost, a shell of a woman. 

“That was Adriana, my dad’s nurse,” You told us, commandeering the entire room’s attention. And somehow, we all knew what was to follow. 

“My dad just died.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

“I’ll take care of her, I promise.” I heard Spencer whisper to April as he walked her out. 

I felt terrible for letting him walk out all the guests I invited, while I simply sat on my couch staring into the nothingness. I should’ve said goodbye to them, but I was paralyzed even when he came back into the living room.

“I know this is a dumb question, but - you okay?” I could see the way his eyes ran over my face to examine me. Were you profiling me, Doctor?

“It’s weird,” I admitted. “It hasn’t hit me, yet. That he’s dead.” 

Even as the word left my mouth, my brain still couldn’t register it. 

“That’s not weird at all. Statistically speaking, after the death of a loved one, 32% of people reported that they stayed in the first stage of grief the longest.”

I wasn’t familiar with what he was referring to, which was something I’d have to get used to considering I was talking to a provable genius after all. “What’s the first stage of grief?”

“Denial.” 

And that was true, I was in denial. Even hours before my flight home, I was still in stage one. I was packing the last of my things when Spencer called to make sure I had everything I needed. 

“Wallet?” 

“Check.” 

“Passport?” 

“Check.”

“Ticket?” 

“Check.”

“Door?”

“Door?” I repeated. “What do you mean door?”

“Have you locked your door?”

“I never lock my door.” I scoffed, partially recognizing my own naiveté. 

“Yeah, I know you don’t. But will you please lock it for me when you leave?” 

“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll lock it on my way out.” 

Following my own promise, I hauled my suitcase through my apartment and turned the doorknob to exit, but I quickly stopped when I saw Spencer standing right outside. 

“Spencer? What are you doing here? I thought you were at work.” Soon after my statement, I ended our phone call considering there was no need to be on the phone with Spencer since he was standing right there in front of me. 

“I, um, I needed you to lock your door after you left because I won’t be around to do it myself when you’re in Oregon.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m coming with you.”

All the anxiety and stress left my body at once and there was nothing for me to do but show him my deepest appreciation by engulfing him in a hug. 

“You’re coming with me?” I nearly cried. 

“I couldn’t let you do this alone. And April practically threatened that if I didn’t buy a ticket, she’d kill me.” 

I chuckled mirthlessly in recognition of April’s tendency to be harsh in pursuit of something she wanted. I was so pleased to hear she wanted him to be with me in Oregon as badly as I wanted him to come. Her approval meant the world to me, and to know that she brought us that much closer together, even under these circumstances, truly showed her support of us.

In the hug, my head was hanging over Spencer’s shoulder giving me the opportunity to see his hidden luggage that if I had noticed earlier, would’ve revealed this little surprise, but I was glad I was blind to it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have felt the sweetest relief imaginable, it would’ve only been a combination of diluted relief and satisfaction of confirmed suspicion - a mixture not half so rewarding. 

“Thank you.” I whispered.

. . . 

There’s something about driving through your hometown after years and years of being gone. It’s like listening to a song you used to play over and over again, after not hearing it for a while. Both are like little time capsules that simultaneously preserve those memories while also transporting you to them. Whether that was a good or bad thing was still undetermined. 

“Home sweet home.” I sighed, the weight of everything coming down on me the minute I stepped foot in the doorway. 

I could actually smell the interior of the house and it brought back so many memories. I lived here for so long and never once could I smell a scent so distinct as this one, but now, with how long I’ve been gone - I could distinguish it, as if it were just another person’s house, and not my own from childhood. 

“(Y/n), is that you?” Adriana’s voice wavered as she ran towards me, embracing me with a warm hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long. Lemme look at you.” Adriana pulled back to stare at me in my entirety, and there was something about the look on her face. It was full of pride and sorrow - pride to see me in my full transformation into a woman but sorrow to be seeing me for these reasons. 

“Your dad would’ve been so proud to see the woman you’ve grown up to be.” 

Her teary eyes only brought on my own flood of tears. I hadn’t cried yet, but that was probably only because I was so distant from everything, but now, here in my childhood home, I was right in the middle of it. 

Adriana inhaled sharply after realizing how long our hug had lingered and the fact that she hadn’t yet greeted Spencer. “Oh forgive me for being so rude, I’m Adriana. I was (y/n)’s father’s nurse.”

“Spencer Reid.” He kindly greeted. “How are you, Adriana?” He asked her, a question I realized I should’ve asked myself. Somehow I’d forgotten that this couldn’t have been easier for her either. 

Walking through even just the front of the house was enough to overwhelm me with a plethora of memories. I was far too busy gaping at how much it hadn’t changed over the years to insert myself into Spencer and Adriana’s conversation.

“Well, right now, I’m just working on cleaning up the house. For when it goes on sale.” I heard Adriana tell Spencer.

I turned quickly over my shoulder in shock. “On sale?” 

“Your father figured you would sell this house. He left it for you, but he didn’t think you’d want it.” 

I should note that: here is where the seed was planted. The seed of doubt. 

Should I keep the house and move back to Oregon?

“Oh and before I forget,” Adriana tapped her pockets until she found what she was looking for. “He wanted me to give you this. He wrote it for you a couple days before he ...” She couldn’t even bring herself to say, ‘died’.

It was an envelope with what appeared to be a letter inside of it. I never knew my father to be a writer, so I opened it with such passionate fervor that I nearly gave myself a paper cut. Adriana and Spencer must’ve recognized my overwhelming eagerness to read it because they disappeared into the kitchen to give me the privacy to do so. 

To my dearest (y/n), 

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you I was getting worse. 

But what I’m not sorry about is not asking you to come home. I made a lotta mistakes when you were growing up, but I think the smartest thing I ever did was not ask you to come back home, because ever since I was diagnosed four years ago, you were ready to run home at the drop of a hat and rush back here in no time at all. That’s no way to live. You can’t just put your life on hold for my imminent death - and that’s certainly not what I want you to do when I actually am dead. 

I want you to live your life, (y/n). 

Never press pause. Keep going. 

Live a long and happy life ... for me, alright, kiddo?

Love,  your old man

All at once, I departed from the first stage of grief and straight into the second. 

Anger.

I hurled the note with as much force as I could, screaming at the top of my lungs with an earsplitting shrill. After seeing the letter fall onto the entryway table, I took my outer arm and swept every single thing on the table off of it out of anger that his letter didn’t go far enough. I could still read the words - I could still hear his voice. I watched in dignity as I let the decor, lamp, and picture frames fall where they may. The lamp landed on its side, clattering beside fallen decor and the picture frames’ glass split in two. I saw the remnants of the mess I created, and I was even angrier at myself. I only created more destruction for me to fix later. My face felt fiery hot and my skin was burning. I was fuming with rage when I finally looked into the mirror and saw the person I hated the most. 

Myself.

I was consumed by a deep loathing of the woman staring back at my in the reflection. 

How could she? How could she not visit dad until now? How could she let Adriana take care of him instead of taking care of him herself? How could she not check in every day? How could she spend years away from him?

How could she not know he was going to die? 

“I hate you!”

The anger took over my body and in one swift motion, my fist collided with the glass, shattering the dead center of the mirror. I cried out in immediate anguish as I felt my wrist go limp and a shooting pain going up and down my arm. Horror must’ve filled my eyes when I saw tiny shards of glass piercing my fist. I think I might’ve actually blacked out from the pain because all I could remember next was waking up in a hospital bed with my arm in a cast that extended all the way to my elbow. I blinked slowly to readjust to the glare, but thankfully, Spencer’s hovering face shielded my eyes from the bright florescent light.

“You know, for someone so small, you pack a pretty good punch,” Spencer chuckled mirthlessly. “You managed to dislocate your wrist, shatter a bone in your forearm, and fracture your elbow. Remind me to never get into a fist fight with you.” He kidded, making the joke just to see me smile, which it did, but he wouldn’t stop there. He had to actually see me laugh again. 

“Well, I think it’s safe to say you’re in the second stage of grief now, huh?” 

A soft giggle escaped me, and he knew his plan had worked. 

“But seriously, how are you feeling?” 

His question was accompanied with the delicate stroking of my hair out of my face, and I was transported to all those nights ago when I asked him to stay the night. I couldn’t remember much from that night either, but I could remember this feeling. The feeling of his touch. 

I felt so loved.

I shut my eyes in an effort to hide the tears that were glossing them, but that only made them stream down my cheeks. 

“Oh, (y/n),” Spencer frowned, replacing his stroking hand to the back of my head to bring my forehead closer to his lips where he would place a chaste kiss on it. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re feeling right now, but I am going to be right there for you - through every single emotion.”

His warm words only made me sob harder. I didn’t deserve his good heart. 

“If I could take your pain away and experience it myself, I would. In a heartbeat.” 

Only his words I could trust wholeheartedly. 

I was discharged from the hospital several hours later, the loopiness I was experiencing from the anesthesia just barely wearing off, and I was forced to face the consequences of my previous actions in the form of a shower. 

Yes, you heard that correctly - a shower. 

“How do I even shower with a cast on?” I asked out loud to myself after turning the water on. My question was quickly followed with two knocks on the door and a, “Need any help in there?” from Spencer. 

There was a quick moment of contemplation which ultimately led to a bashful, “Yes, I do.”

My timidity fell away shortly after seeing Spencer fumble into the bathroom with his hand over his eyes. 

“I won’t look, I promise.” 

My laughter erupted in the room at the sheer amusement I got from his sinless actions. “I’m not naked! You don’t have to cover your eyes.” 

He made a gap between his middle and ring finger for his eyes to peek through just enough to register if I was really telling the truth and upon the discovery that I was, he removed his hand from his face. Afterwards, he left me with careful instructions to not wet my cast and carry on with the rest of my shower routine as normal. 

My shower, though mildly inconvenient because of my cast, was just like any other - ending in me shuffling from the bathroom to my bedroom with just a towel to cover me and collect the water from my sopping body. It was after I shut my bedroom door behind me I was met with yet another daunting task - putting on clothes. 

Unfortunately, my short temper didn’t bode well with my struggle to put pants on followed by my complete inability to find a shirt that had sleeves big enough to fit my cast through without excessively stretching the fabric. This resulted in the downright termination of the act after minutes of trying. I’d been rummaging through my luggage for minutes, but it wasn’t like I was planning to end up in a cast, so naturally - I didn’t bring clothes fit for such an occasion. And anything that was left in my closet were clothes that hadn’t fit me since high school. 

“(Y/n)?” I heard Spencer knock gently then saw him opening the door with painfully slow caution.

“Down here.”

His eyes followed as my words told him, and there he found me, lying on the floor with my towel still wrapped around my upper body.

“What are you doing down there?”

I should add that, along with his playfully spoken question, he got down on the floor to further lie on his back, too. It was a simple thing really, but it meant more to me than he knew. He wanted to join me as I rested on the carpet; he didn’t want to be standing above me, talking down to me. He saw me as his equal and he was going to lie with me on the floor, too - no hesitation whatsoever. He was more than content to follow along with my peculiar schemes, to humor my weirdness.

How many people in your life can you say that about? There’s not very many in mine who will go along with whatever I do or say just to make me happy, and for that, I thanked my lucky stars for giving me Spencer.

“I’ve been trying to put on a shirt, but none of them would fit around my cast and I just got frustrated and gave up.” I bluntly told him. 

“I can see that.” He jestingly noted, his eyes skimming over the mess in the room that I created trying to find a shirt that would fit. I could see the gears in his head turning for a solution to my problem. 

“What if I give you mine? Do you think it’ll fit?” 

He disappeared out of my bedroom and in less than a minute, he came back into the room with a worn Caltech shirt, and of course, it was a perfect fit. Almost made-to-measure.

After my content finding of a proper shirt, we resumed our position on the floor, lying side by side.

“I really like your room, by the way. I especially like your stars.” He pointed at my ceiling that was spotted with glow-in-the-dark stickers in the shape of stars and planets that I’d put up there as a child. 

I tried not to laugh as to not insult his admiration of them, but I couldn’t contain the slight giggle that left me from the amusement of his childlike wonder.

“Why?” I had to ask.

“I dunno, it’s just nice to look at. It’s kinda like we’re stargazing.”

“Hmm, I guess we kinda are.”

“Oh look!” He quickly motioned to a different sticker than the one he’d pointed to before. “There’s a shooting star! Make a wish.”

“Shut up!” I childishly giggled, reaching across my body to shove him with my good arm.

“Come on it’s a shooting star - you have to make a wish!”

In the same way that he humored my silly antics, I knew I had to indulge his. 

“Alright, I wish -”

“No, you have to close your eyes!” He insisted. “Your wish won’t come true unless you close your eyes.” To my furrowed brows and deadpan stare, he responded, “I don’t make the rules! You just have to!” 

I played along and shut my eyes all while inhaling deeply in preparation to make a wish. 

In that same breath, Spencer leaned over me, letting his face hang above mine for just a second to look at me. Even though I couldn’t look at him back, he didn’t mind.

“I wish . . .”

I parted my mouth to say something in addition, but my words were cut short when he placed his lips on mine.

The stars were aligning.

It was a shy kiss, just as I always dreamt it would be. He didn’t move his lips; he only puckered them against mine, and I could feel him begin to pull away. Before he could, I raised my head to follow his mouth, drawing him in closer with my one good hand on his cheek.

That was the only thing stopping him from kissing me harder before. He needed to know that I wanted it just as much as he did. And I did. I really did.

Now with more encouragement, he snaked his hand under my neck, supporting the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my still-damp hair. He cocked his head to the side, sharply inhaling so my own mouth would be forced to open, too, creating an entryway just big enough for his tongue to slip in.

I started seeing stars, and not the ones on my ceiling.

The moment was too quick and ended before I wanted it to, like all moments I had with him. He placed one small chaste kiss to give me solace, our lips clinging together briefly, bouncing back into place when ours faces were fully apart, making a small pop noise from the moist separation.

“Your hair smells like magnolias.” He drawled, seemingly in a daze when his eyes fluttered open.

It sent me into a fit of giggles - a sound he couldn’t resist. I noticed him eyeing me as I laughed and I tried not to let it get to my head, but God, if looks could kill. I wish I could see me the way he saw me. He looked at me like I was a galaxy full of stars, even if I felt like a dark abyss that would swallow him whole.

“I can’t believe it.” He dreamily whispered in awe.

“You can’t believe what?”

“When I first met you, I couldn’t get over how beautiful you were. And now, I’m smelling your shampoo while you’re wearing my clothes, kissing me under the stars?”

I’d never seen someone look so grateful. It was the purest vision.

I never did finish saying my wish, but if I had, it would’ve been to stay in this moment forever. But like all our moments together, this one, too, was gone in the blink of an eye. 

Soon enough, all this would just be a memory of the past. Another moment locked in time, never to occur again.

. . .

The week later we buried my father. 

I’d somehow skipped stage three and four - bargaining and depression - and was well on my way to stage five - acceptance. But it wasn’t really the acceptance of his death, more so the acceptance of what I had to do in the wake of it. 

I heeded my father’s words of not pressing pause on my life, but what I did next wasn’t really pressing pause, just rewinding a bit. 

I did say that whether coming to my hometown after years of not being here was a good thing or bad thing was still undetermined, and I think this was me realizing that it still is undetermined, and I wouldn’t be able to figure it out if I left. And really, I couldn’t leave. Not again. Not when Adriana needed me most to upkeep the house. Not after I’d purposefully bought an open-ended ticket to stay here for longer. 

I was meant to stay here, and consequently, I knew what that meant for me and Spencer.

We were on our way home from the funeral when Spencer parked the car in the driveway and shut it off. The rain was pelting the windshield as the window wipers robotically swept from side to side. We’d been listening to the sound of rain and automated windshield wipers for the entire duration of the time we sat there. He was waiting for me to say what he already knew. 

I wasn’t coming back to Virginia. 

The loud silence was broken with my words, “I’ve never felt this way for anyone before.” 

It almost seemed like he didn’t hear me because of the way he kept looking straightforward instead of at me, but I feel that it might’ve been so I wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. 

“Spencer, I love you.” I honestly confessed, the simultaneous feeling of weight being lifted off my shoulders and a new weight being placed onto them coming over me. 

For the first time, he swiveled his head to the side, giving me full view of his crestfallen expression. I almost wish he hadn’t. 

“I love you, too.” His voice croaked. 

“But it wouldn’t be fair to start a relationship with you like this.”

“That’s what I was afraid you would say.” He whimpered. 

I needed to take care of Adriana, look after the house, and recover from my dad’s death, and it would be so easy to escape all that if I went back to Virginia. But if I honestly wanted to grow from this, I had to accept the responsibilities I had waiting for me here. Nothing needed me in Virginia - nothing but Spencer.

And if I knew him as well as I thought I did, he would understand that I couldn’t come back just yet. 

And he wouldn’t ask me to. 

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s been five months now, and somewhere around month two I got the sneaking suspicion that you were lying when you said you loved me. Because why wouldn’t you fight for us if you really did? 

But you knew if you told me that a long-distance relationship was too much to handle on top of everything else you had going on, I would’ve offered to move to Oregon with you, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want me to uproot my life for you, and you knew that’s exactly what I would’ve done. 

So after three more months of that thought brewing, I’ve come to the realization that you weren’t lying. No, you loved me too much. Too much to make me choose between you and my life in Virginia, but I’m telling you right now - if you asked me to, I’d choose you. Over and over and over again. 

I’d choose you. 

But that’s just it - you wouldn’t let me choose you, and you didn’t. That’s why you didn’t ask. I’m mad you never gave me the option, but I know that you only did that out of love. 

And I guess if that’s your way of saying “I love you,” then this letter is mine. 

I only wrote this instead of telling you it in person, because I think, for the first time, I want to trust the world as much as you trust the world. 

I want to have as much blind faith in something as you have in that unlocked door of yours. 

I want to trust that when you come back to Virginia and find this letter, whenever that may be, we’ll be different people, and that maybe then we’ll be better for each other. But until that time comes - until that faithful day when you return from Oregon, I will wait. 

I will wait, and I will not forget you - I promise that. 

It’s quite hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember. 

At this time, you and I haven’t spoken a word to each other since the funeral, so I have virtually no idea what your current state of affairs are, but I should let you know that by this time next week, I will be living in a real house, which also means I am moving out of this apartment at the end of the week. I'm quite disoriented from this to say the least, but I’ve never been more ready or excited to start a new chapter of my life. 

As for us - this isn’t our last chapter. I know it. There’s more for us. 

I have faith. 

And if there’s one last thing I wanted you to know, it’s that:

You have given me a lifetime of happiness, 3B.

Sincerely yours, 2B

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

[bellshells]

A Moment of Bliss

REQUEST: I would love a Sirius x Reader x Lupin smut, where they treat her like a whore but are really cute afterwards. 

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader x Remus Lupin Warnings: Mentions of war, Alcohol, Langauge, Smut (oh good dear lord the smut) Summary: Reader decides that everyone needs a break, and after a nice meal some naughty shit goes down.  Word Count: 6.7k+

  You sighed and rubbed your eyes. It was all too much, there was news daily now and none of it was good. Seeing the smiling faces of Marlene McKinnon and her parents on the cover of The Daily Prophet had caused you to fear the worst. You watched as Marlene’s father kissed her cheek as her mother waved, they were celebrating Marlene’s birthday when that picture was taken, she looked truly beautiful. You remember it well, how you had laughed and danced, a welcome break from the horrors of the war. You remembered with a smile how lucky Marlene’s parents had felt that they were able to bring Marlene’s friends together to celebrate their special girls’ birthday. You couldn’t believe their luck either now, how terrible it was. It had been months since they had been murdered, yet seeing her face plastered across the front page of The Daily Prophet caused your heart to ache with grief.

You felt a tentative touch on your shoulder and reached with trembling fingers to clasp the hand there, and leant your cheek against it.   “You shouldn’t read it if it makes you upset.” A soft voice said behind you, you chuckled darkly and turned to face him.   “Then I wouldn’t read anything at all, Remus.” You paused; your lip quivered as you gazed at the face of your lost friend. “I just can’t believe she’s gone.” You replied, you tried to smile at Remus but stopped short as his brow furrowed in concern.   “Have you seen the awful guff that Skeeter woman has written about her?” Sirius called from the doorway, he wore a grim expression and held his own copy of the Prophet in his hand. “We can’t let this go unpunished, Moony.” Remus nodded and gave your shoulder a subtle squeeze.   “I know, but we must act cautiously, Sirius. We can’t let her death be in vain. You’re no use to anybody if you get yourself killed.”   “Dreadful.” You added quietly, more to yourself than to anybody else. Sirius stalked into the room, his eyes never on one spot for more than a few seconds.   “How is it that we are expected to do nothing? After everything that’s happened, after everything we’ve…sacrificed. It isn’t enough!” Sirius stalked to the tapestried wall and punched it hard, he groaned as he pulled his hand away and shook it fiercely. The rooms of Grimmauld Place were quiet now, what once had been busy as the headquarters for The Order of the Phoenix, were now still as more and more allies lost their lives. Remus was upon his friend in an instant, he grasped Sirius by the shoulders and tried to calm him.   “We mustn’t fall apart, brother. Not now.” Remus breathed, he took Sirius’ face in his hands and forced the bearded man to look in his eyes. “We haven’t come this far for nothing. She was special, one in a million, and I promise she will be avenged.” Sirius was defiant for a moment, he tried to free himself from Remus’ grip; but after a second more, he relented and sighed.   “Yes.”

  You stood quietly and made your way over to the two men; you hadn’t been close friends at school. You hadn’t been particularly close during the beginning of the war; but as the numbers thinned out as more and more people were killed, you clung to those who you knew you could trust. You slipped in between the two men and grasped both of their hands.   “Let’s go and get some food. It’s been a long day, let’s have a drink for Marlene. She wouldn’t want us to mope about.” You looked between them, a sad smile settled onto Remus’ scarred mouth and Sirius squeezed your hand in agreement. You nodded at them both and lead them from the house, it was dark outside, and you kept to the shadows as you crept through the quiet streets toward Muggle London.

*******

  “Leicester Square? Really?” Sirius asked with a quirked eyebrow, you pushed him toward the door to an Italian restaurant.   “Yes, it’s busy and full of people. We’re not likely to come across anyone other than muggles having a Friday night out. Okay?” You chided as you waited for a muggle waiter to seat you at a table. Sirius squirmed uncomfortably at your side, Remus on the other smiled warmly down at you and placed a gentle hand on your back as you followed the waiter further into the restaurant. The restaurant was heaving with people, groups of friends laughed rowdily at circular tables whilst couples held hands and whispered to one another on smaller ones. You grinned at the normality of it all, you wondered what it must be like to have no knowledge of what was happening out there, of what you had lost.   “What would you like to drink, (Y/N)?” Remus asked as he passed a menu in your direction, you accepted it gladly and turned to the waiter who stood with a notepad and pen in his hand.   “Pinot Noir please lovely, bottle-one glass, thank you.” You said and with a fleeting look of judgement which you brushed off; the waiter wrote it down.   “Yourself, sir?” He asked as he leaned down to hear Sirius as he scoured the menu.   “Chablis.” Sirius answered curtly, you kicked him under the table and Sirius scowled. “Thank you.”   “Is that a bottle, sir?” The waiter asked, his look now nonplussed as he shifted his weight.   “Yes, thank you. Been a bitch of a day.” Sirius cleared his throat and offered you a pithy look. You shook your head and turned your attention back to the food on offer.   “Long Island Iced Tea for me please, sir.” Remus said cheerfully, the waiter looked surprised at Remus’ order and a flash of humour crossed his face. Remus blushed and averted his eyes as the waiter confirmed the order and with a wink in Remus’ direction left the table.   “You’ve made a friend, Moony.” Sirius wiggled his eyebrows as Remus blushed and sank into his chair.   “I didn’t know you were gay, Remus! That’s fantastic!” You said and Sirius erupted into laughter. You watched as the two men exchanged looks over the table. “Have I missed something?”   “No, (Y/N). Remus isn’t…gay. But you do like to dabble, don’t you Moony?” Sirius clasped his hands on the table and cocked his head to the side. Remus slammed his menu down and pointed his finger at Sirius.   “You’re one to talk. I’m sure I could tell (Y/N) some excellent stories about you and your exploits, Padfoot.” Remus snapped, Sirius threw his head back and let out one short laugh.   “I’ve done things that would make a whore blush, and unlike you, I have noting to hide.” Sirius said, his eyes sparkled in the dim light of the restaurant. You looked bewilderedly between the two men, this power play between the pair of them was delicious and strangely erotic. You could feel your own blush tickle your cheeks as Remus cast his eyes over you, his mouth a thin line on his usually soft face.   “I think you’re making (Y/N) uncomfortable, Sirius. This isn’t really appropriate dinner conversation, is it?” Remus retorted, Sirius cast a glance in your direction and seeing your red cheeks, smiled. He inched his hand closer to yours on the table, his fingertips barely touched yours and yet you felt like you had been struck by lightning. The corner of Sirius’ mouth twitched into a smirk; his moustache twirled perfectly at the sides accentuated it as his face was illuminated by the candlelight. Seconds later, Remus’ knee brushed against yours under the table and you felt the warmth of the contact inch up your thigh as the blush on your cheeks spread over your body.     “I can hold my own Remus, thank you.” You replied quietly, aware of how both men watched you as you fiddled with the menu. “I can hold my own.”   “I’m sure you can.” Sirius said under his breath. The tension continued to grow between the three of you, even when the waiter appeared with your drinks and took your food order, his keen attention fixed on Remus; Remus stared at you. His breathing was shallow, and you could see his knuckles were white as he balled his hand into a tight fist on the table. You couldn’t help but notice how dark his eyes looked as you passed his gaze over his face, the soft contours of his cheeks and the scars that had lived there for as long as you could remember. He had a sort of ethereal beauty about him that was impossible to deny, the gentle exterior and the darkness that was promised underneath by the swathes of battle marks across his flesh.

  You allowed Sirius to pour your wine and blushed again as he watched as you took a sip of the ruby liquid. You dabbed at the corner of your mouth with a finger and pressed it to you lips; the forgotten drop of claret soon mopped up with your tongue. You heard a sigh from Remus’ direction, your attention brought back to him. Sirius laughed again; his shoulder length hair tickled his face as he said:   “I think we shall have some sport tonight, brother.”

 ************

  You ate mostly in silence, only commenting on how delicious the food was- or, in Sirius’ case lamenting on the best way to eat a pizza as he attacked it with a knife and fork. When the plates were cleared, the wine flowed freely around the table. You had insisted Remus catch up and order a bottle for himself, and he in turn demanded that both you and Sirius have a cocktail to even up the score. Sirius ordered himself a Negroni whilst you opted for a Black Russian, you smiled at the two men began to relax into the evening. The sensual tension from earlier in the evening forgotten as through a fit of giggles you told Remus of the schoolgirl crush you harboured for him in your fifth year, he in his sixth.     “Honestly, it was pathetic. Poor Lily tried everything she could think of to get us alone together so I could tell you how I felt.” Your stomach hurt from laughing so much, the sides of your cheeks ached, and you were delighted by the delightful shade of pink Remus had turned.   “I’m telling you now, (Y/N). Moony only ever had eyes for one girl at school and she never looked twice at him!” Sirius laughed; he swirled the contents in his glass before he knocked back a big gulp.   “Oh, please tell me who it is, Remus. I need to know who I was losing out to.” You said through your laughter. Remus mumbled under his breath, so quiet it was impossible to hear him. “What? Sorry I missed that.” You grappled at Remus’ hands as he tried to cover his face. “Who was it, Remus? I promise I won’t laugh.” Remus looked from you to Sirius, if looks could kill, his friend would be dead in his Negroni before he knew it. He took a deep breath and covered his eyes.   “McGonagall” Remus whispered, Sirius slapped his knee in delight, and you couldn’t help the snort that escaped you as you thought of a poor, seventeen-year-old Remus hopelessly in love with the stern professor.   “Have a thing for authority, do you?” You asked playfully, Remus’ look darkened once more as he lowered his hands.   “Quite the opposite actually, (Y/N). I like the idea of those in power relinquishing it.” He said quietly, you felt as though everybody in the restaurant had disappeared as the only sound you could hear was the beating of your heart in your ears. You bit your lip and blinked, desperate to rid yourself of the warmth you suddenly felt between your legs.   “I just like fucking.” Sirius added after a moment, he considered what he said and then lolled his head to the side once again swept his gaze across your face. “A lot.”

  You didn’t know what to do with your hands as you regarded each of the men now staring intently at you.   “Shall we get the bill?” Sirius asked.   “Yep.” Remus answered instantly, his hand in the air as he tried to get the waiter’s attention. You grabbed for your purse and you each threw money onto the table; the muggle money was so fragile you thought. Especially the paper money, luckily Remus knew what-was-what and squared up with the waiter who looked disappointed to see Remus leaving. It was Sirius this time who placed his hand on the small of your back as you made your way out into the night, it was chilly now and you pulled your thin jacket around your chest.   “Where to now?” Remus asked, “Home? Or another drink?”   “I could have another drink…at home.” You said, you felt the warmth return between your legs and both men grinned at you. You slipped your hands into each of theirs, Sirius brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to your fingers. Remus brushed the back of your knuckles with his thumb, each action from the two men sent electric pulses through your veins.

*********

     “I’m telling you, (Y/N). If you had told Remus all the naughty things you wanted to do to him at school, he would have come immediately into his pants.” Sirius said as he poured port into three glasses and passed them around. You took a thoughtful sip, the richness of the port warmed you as you considered what to say next.   “Who says I wanted to do naughty things? The things I had in mind were wholly innocent, I’ll have you know.” You replied, you snuck a look at Remus from the corner of your eye; he seemed completely interested in his drink.   “Oh, I imagine they were, (Y/N). You were sweetness and light in school, weren’t you? Butter wouldn’t melt.” Sirius discarded his drink onto a nearby table and stood. He walked around his chair and placed his hands on the backrest, he leaned forward and squared his jaw. “I would have given anything to ruin you.” His gaze didn’t waver as a gentle moan left your lips; it was almost inaudible, but Remus’ head snapped up in your direction. You parted your lips and ran your tongue along them, they felt painfully dry.   “Sirius, you’ve had too much to drink mate.” He said, Sirius merely shrugged.   “In Vino Veritas, brother. You telling me that you wouldn’t have absolutely fucked her senseless if she told you she wanted you?” Sirius countered. Remus ran a hand through his hair as he took a swig of his port.   “I am still here.” You offered weakly. Sirius sneered at you as he picked his tumbler up and swirled it around again.   “I know, witch. I want you to hear.” Sirius said darkly Remus groaned in his chair, he shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, Moony. Me and you, her hot little body to keep us warm.” You moaned again; it was involuntary this time. Both men looked in your direction as you rubbed your thighs together, desperate to relieve the throb between your legs. Sirius chuckled ominously as he offered his hand to Remus. Begrudgingly, Remus took it. Your heart thundered in your chest; you bit the inside of your cheek; surely you were dreaming? You would wake up any second now, a damp patch in your knickers and a desperate aching in your quim. Sirius rolled the sleeves of his smart white shirt up to his elbows; he crossed the room in an instant. He knelt in front of you, his hands on your knees. You could do nothing but stare into the face of this man you had known in some capacity since you were eleven, as he moved up your body, his mouth close to your ear; his hair tickled your cheek.   “Would you like that, (Y/N)? Would you like to lie between Remus and me? To be utterly filled to the brim?” You could feel his hot breath on your ear, you rolled your head back and sighed. Your eyes fluttered closed and Sirius’ lips grazed your earlobe, you clutched the arms of the chair tightly. “Just say the word, (Y/N). Just tell us you want us-”   “You don’t have to, (Y/N). Don’t feel pressured-” Remus interjected, you stopped him short with an extended hand. You reached for him; his eyes darkened as he took your hand. You looked up earnestly into his face, the face that had littered your dreams for a solid nine months as a teenager. You smiled wryly at Remus whilst Sirius held his breath, still by your ear.   “I want you.” You whispered, “Both of you.”

  Sirius pulled you out of the chair and pushed you toward Remus, his arms extended to catch you. You placed your hands either side of Remus’ face and inched your lips closer to his, Remus closed the gap with a growl. He kissed you hungrily, it was furious, and you slid your hands into his hair and tugged. Remus groaned against your lips as your hands moved readily in his hair. You felt a tug behind you as Sirius turned you in Remus’ arms brought your mouth to his. You couldn’t decipher whose hands were where; as you felt your shirt being tugged over your head, and hands working at the belt of your jeans. You felt them being pushed down your thighs as you were turned once again to face Remus. There was a pair of hands on your breasts, roughly needing them through the thin lace of your bra whilst a hand graced over your stomach and one plunged into your knickers.   “So wet already. Can you smell her, Moony?” Sirius grunted against your neck, his teeth grazed along the sensitive skin and he sucked hard. Remus only moaned in response, he bit down on your lower lip and you shuddered under him. Sirius moved his fingers deftly over your clit, he rubbed it gently and your head rolled back onto Sirius’ shoulder. “Make yourself useful, (Y/N). Why don’t you play with Remus’ big cock?” You didn’t need to be told twice, Remus’ lips pulled back into a snarl as you made fast work of his belt and pushed his trousers down to his knees. He was hard as you pulled him out of his boxers, he hissed as the air touched his member. You worked your hand up and down Remus’ shaft to the same pace that Sirius rubbed your clit. Remus pulled your head forward by your neck and crushed his lips to yours. Another moan slipped from your lips as Sirius parted your slick folds and pushed two fingers inside you, your grip around Remus tightened as he bucked his hips against your hand. Sirius quickened his pace, and your legs began to tremble as you began to move your hips against Sirius’ hand, fucking yourself on his fingers. You pumped Remus faster as a slew of curses fell from his lips. Sirius grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back roughly. You yelped in surprise but found your scalp burned pleasantly with the pain.

  “I want you to come on my fingers, witch. Do you think you can do that?” You nodded helplessly as his thumb began to rub you as his fingers plunged in and out of your sex. Remus pulled away from you, your hand now empty of him, you brought it up to tangle in Sirius’ hair.   “Fuck (Y/N), you have no idea how delicious you look now.” Remus whispered; he attacked your neck with wet kisses as Sirius brought you to orgasm. It flooded through you in powerful waves, your moans silenced by Sirius’ hand around your mouth.   “Quiet. I want to hear your pretty noises, but not here.” Sirius instructed. As you came down from your high, you saw Remus nod to Sirius as they both grasped one of your hands. With a distinct pop you arrived in your Grimmauld Place bedroom, before you had the chance to adjust after the apparation, you were flung backwards onto your bed. You watched with half lidded eyes as Sirius and Remus both undressed fully, you could see clearly now just how well-endowed the pair of them were. Remus was bigger than Sirius, but Sirius was girthier. You licked your lips in delight, you couldn’t believe this was happening. Both of these attractive men lavishing attention on you, it was almost too much to bear. Remus climbed onto the bed; his arms open to you.   “Sit on my face.” He commanded, you did so without hesitating. You hoisted a leg over either side of his head and lowered yourself gently down, his lips were gentle against your throbbing pussy, still recovering from your previous orgasm. Sirius appeared next to you, his hand slid down your back and gave your arse a smack, causing you to jolt forward. Remus grasped hold of your hips and held you in place, his tongue probing at your slippery entrance. It felt divine, Remus knew exactly what he was doing and as he kissed and nibbled at you, he began to shake his head from side to side. The feeling of his tongue rounding delicious laps around your clit was earthshattering, you had never felt anything as intense as this before. You were coming again in seconds; and you threw your head back and ground yourself against Remus’ face. You could hear Sirius laugh as Remus lapped at your core, you shuddered against him and whimpered at the overstimulation. Sirius grasped your hand roughly and placed it on his cock which throbbed impatiently. You moved your hand to the top around his foreskin and pulled back, Sirius smile illuminated the room as he moved your hair to the side.   “No love, use your mouth.” He whispered, you slid awkwardly from Remus’ face and crawled before Sirius. You looked up into his dark face as he regarded you, he watched as you ran your tongue from the bottom of his shaft to the top. He sighed and placed a delicate hand to the top of your head, pushing it downwards. You didn’t mind, in fact, you thoroughly enjoyed it. The feeling of the decision being removed from your hands was delectable in a life such as yours, where at any second you could die from making the wrong choice.

  It took you a second to adjust to Sirius’ girth as he began to fuck your throat, slowly at first and after you gave him a swift nod; he picked up his pace. You gagged around his cock as Sirius pushed it further into your throat, you had to swallow; or you thought you might choke. Saliva dripped from your chin as with great effort, you swallowed around his cock. Sirius let out a groan and grabbed a fistful of your hair.   “Do that again.” He commanded, you instantly swallowed around him. He quivered and thrusted into your mouth with more force, you whined around him as with each time he hit the base of your throat, he pulled out almost as far. You mourned the loss of him in your mouth each time. He tasted salty with sweat, and you found that the most delicious thing you had tasted all evening.

  Your jaw began to ache and though you did your best to ignore it, Sirius seemed to sense your discomfort. He pulled out of your mouth with a satisfying pop.   “I want to come inside you, (Y/N). I want to make you come all over my cock.” Sirius breathed into your ear, he still held fast onto the fistful of your hair. You moaned against his lips as he brought you roughly in for a kiss. “Feeling neglected, Remus?” Sirius laughed as he surfaced for air. You looked over your shoulder to see Remus on his back, he stroked his cock lazily as he watched you.   “On the contrary, just enjoying the show.”  

You were breathless, positively alight with desire. Every inch of your flesh screamed with want and for a second you felt guilty, wanton almost. Every scrap of decorum you previously possessed ebbed from your body with each illicit moan, and every time you passed yourself between these two men you couldn’t help the grin that formed on your face. The lascivious acts you had both endured and performed were more than you could ever ask for from one partner let alone two. The bottom line though, you felt, was if it was wrong or if it you weren’t meant to enjoy it…why were you enjoying it so?   “Come here, darling.” Remus said softly, as if able to hear your thoughts. He held his arms out to you and you crawled into his embrace gladly. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head and his hands travelled down your back to your rump, he squeezed it and gave it a playful tap. You smiled widely at him and kissed him deeply, your hands found themselves again in his hair and his mouth trailed hot kisses from your mouth along your jaw. Sighs of contentedness fell readily from your lips as Sirius approached from behind you. He brushed his hand softly up your arm causing your flesh to tingle under his touch. You heard Sirius whisper a spell and with a start you were thrown onto your back, propped up on the pillows; your legs brought up spread wide and bent at the knee. You felt soft fabric wrap around your wrists and the backs of your thighs as your arms and legs were bound together, leaving you bare, open and vulnerable to both men. Another soft piece of fabric settled over your eyes, completely covering your vision, and leaving you without sight. A fleeting moment of zealous insecurity bounded through your mind; you had never tried anything as adventurous as this with any of your previous partners. There hadn’t been many, mind you- but still you felt a little out of your depth. What flashed through your mind next was Remus’ kind face, you knew he would never let anything happen to you. You knew you need only say the word if you were uncomfortable and there would be no hard feelings. He would probably make you a cup of tea and talk about something innocuous until you felt better. And there was Sirius, who earlier on had felt so incensed over what had happened to Marlene that he was willing to put himself in danger- yes, you knew you were in safe hands.

  “How does that feel, (Y/N)?” Sirius asked from a way away. You pulled against your bonds slightly, you couldn’t escape them, but they weren’t painful.   “Indescribable.” You breathed. You smiled, unaware if either of them could see your face. You felt a soft caress of your inner thigh, your breath hitched in response. Your cunt ached with need, regardless of the two orgasms you’d already had by Sirius’ quick fingers and Remus’ clever tongue.   “We’re going to play a game, aren’t we Remus?” Sirius said jovially, as if he were speaking of Quidditch in the sun.   “Oh, yes. I love this game.” Remus replied from elsewhere in the room. You would have liked to think that your hearing would have been heightened by having your sight stripped from you; but you wondered whether the disorientation you felt as the two men moved around you was part of the game.   “We’re going to fuck you now, (Y/N). One after the other. You are to guess who is fucking you.” Sirius said. You felt a hand tug on the restraints around your knees and a hum of satisfaction.   “You are not allowed to come unless you guess correctly.” Remus added somewhat cruelly. You frowned and felt another hand caress your breast, they took your nipple in between their fingers and gave it a tug. You yelped with surprise and tried to lurch upwards, but a hand against your chest pushed you down again. Where the fingers were on your nipple a second ago, you felt a tongue trace around the stiffened teat. They sucked hard and you bucked your hips upward, desperate for something, anything to ease the throbbing you felt in your quim. You were wracked with worry though, what would happen if you couldn’t tell them apart?   “Our girl’s needy, wouldn’t you say Sirius?” Remus said, oh, it was Remus who suckled on your breast. You felt his hot breath on you as he pressed wet kisses across the valley of your breasts and then lavished the other nipple with the same delicious torture.

  You needed to come. You needed release desperately. You bucked your hips upwards again and a whimper escaped you. Fruitless.   “Please.” You whispered blindly; you didn’t know if they were even listening to you. “Please fuck me.”   “Who?” A voice answered quietly, you weren’t sure who answered you, you bit your lip.   “Anyone, both of you. Please, I need, I need-”   “Look at us Moony, two dogs with a little bitch all tied up and begging.” Sirius said, you had no idea where he was. He seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once. Like his voice filled all of your senses and yet left you achingly touch starved. “Isn’t that something?”   “Yes, the irony isn’t lost on me.” Remus replied, he too seemed to float in the ether around you. Like a voice from a dream, almost tangible. You began to struggle against your restraints, it was torture. You wanted nothing more than to be fucked by these two men and the longer they made you wait, the more restless you became.   “(Y/N), are you ready?” You nodded as definitely as you could, you braced yourself for what, you couldn’t say. Another agonizing minute passed before you heard any movement. You could feel the heat from a body between your legs, it was impossible to say who it was as they leaned forward to press their member between your slick folds. Whomever it was pushed into gently, you squealed as they filled you torturously slowly. You moved your hips against him, desperate for the friction. When they didn’t move you let out a grunt of frustration. You heard him chuckle, whoever he was, and he gave the smallest thrust into you.   “Please-” You mustered, your voice was small and full of want. You wished you could take this person in your arms and fuck him, but with your arms and legs bound together, all you could do was lift your hips. He was big, bigger than anything you’d had before. You felt the sting as he stretched you out with each miniscule thrust. You felt fit to burst, like you could explode at any second if you weren’t fucked and fucked well. You writhed beneath him, impatient and desperate.

  You weren’t prepared for what happened next. Your mouth was forcefully opened, and a cock slid inside. Whoever wasn’t buried in your cunt took your mouth. Incredible. You spluttered against it, as the cock inside your quim began to move. You moaned throatily as you were utterly filled. The cock inside you began to push furiously into you, bruising your cervix with every delectable thrust. It was almost manic now; you were being tossed around something chronic and with every thrust from inside you caused the cock in your mouth to be pushed further into your throat. You wanted to badly to feel them around you, you wished to lavish your lovers with touches of encouragement.   “Fuck.” That was definitely Sirius. But you couldn’t work out where. Dear Merlin, you needed to come. Please, you begged to anybody that might listen, please. You hollowed your cheeks against the member in your throat and tried to suck, but the force in which they fucked your mouth let you do nothing but try and keep your teeth out of the way.   “Fuck, fuck.” That was Remus. His voice seemed to be closer than Sirius. You moaned again, as the man between your legs lifted a hand and began to rub your clit. That was it, you were going to come. The man between your legs fucked you harder as if he could sense this, the room was a cacophony of moans, of delicious skin on skin and you could almost float away in the bliss. You felt your orgasm begin to reach its peak, but that wasn’t allowed was it? Nobody had asked you to guess? You decided not to bring it up, but to reach the climax you so desperately craved.

  The thrusting into your core was desperate now, incensed. You could hear the cries of a man about to spill his seed. The man in your mouth pulled out and you clamped your aching jaw closed immediately. You felt hands around your throat and pressure as your moans became heightened, matching the orgasm that now sizzled through you.   “Oh...Lord!” The man between your legs came, you could feel it. “Fuck, I’m coming.” That was Sirius, you were sure of it. A slew of curses whispered in the distance and you could feel his thrusts become weaker as he filled you full of him.   “Sirius.” You whispered with a smile.   “It’s a bit late for that you naughty slut.” Sirius snapped, in an instant the ties around your arms and legs vanished and they fell to the bed with a thud. They ached, you ached. You had never been fucked that hard and you groaned as you rolled onto your stomach. You were pulled up sharply by your hips and onto all fours. You craned your neck round to see Remus behind you, red faced and sweaty as he lined himself up with your entrance. You noticed his chest was littered with scars and you wanted to run your tongue along each one.   “Need to come.” Remus muttered as he pushed into you roughly. It was like night and day to the way Sirius had fucked you, Remus pulled a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back sharply. He wasted no time in building a rhythm, he rutted into you mercilessly. You cried out, the pain in your scalp along with the pleasure in your loins was almost too much for you to bear.   “God Moony, I’m hard again just watching you fuck her.” Sirius said, his voice was strained as your eyes met. He was perched against the pillows, his back to the headboard as he stroked his now hard cock. His eyes were dark, and he licked his lips as he watched his best friend pound into you from behind. Remus let go of your hair and brought his hands to your hips in a vice like grip. He pushed and pulled you onto his cock, you could feel the wetness you had created trickle down your thighs.

  Your voice was hoarse as you came for the fourth time, you had cried and moaned and whimpered for what felt like hours. You felt tears sting your eyes as the pleasure trundled through your veins, your walls tightened, and Remus gave a great cry before he thrust into twice more and you milked him of his orgasm. He fell forward onto you and you went with him, falling onto Sirius’ chest with a grunt. Sirius wrapped his arms steadily around you and bundled you close to his chest. Remus pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder as he slid from on top of you and pulled you in between them, Sirius on the right, Remus on the left. You breathed. From the bottom of your lungs you gasped in great breaths. Sirius’ fingers travelled from your neck to the base of your spine and back again, and Remus stroked lazy circles on your stomach. You hummed contentedly as your heartrate returned to normal, you nestled your head into Sirius’ chest and wiggled your hips against Remus earning a laugh from the latter.   “Comfortable (Y/N)?” Remus asked into your hair. You hummed in agreement and let your eyes close.   “Well our game didn’t go much to plan, did it Moony?” Sirius asked, you could hear the smile in his voice. Remus’ chuckle vibrated against your back.   “No, not quite. Someone obviously didn’t understand the rules.” Remus said, he tapped your stomach playfully and you groaned.   “I understood perfectly, thank you very much. I just couldn’t hold on much longer. I was desperate.” You sighed and Sirius placed a kiss to the top of your head.   “You’ll have to do better. We won’t be as lenient next time.” Sirius stated. Your eyes fluttered open and gazed up at Sirius face, he was joking, surely?   “We certainly will not.” Remus confirmed from behind you, you felt your stomach leap in excitement.   “Next time?” You murmured; this couldn’t be happening. No, not to you. Remus rolled you in his arms, so you faced him, Sirius shuffled down the bed slightly and wrapped his arm around your middle.   “You think I’m going to go the rest of my life without ever fucking you again?” Remus questioned; his brow furrowed but you could tell he was being sincere. You pressed your finger to the scar that ran across the bridge of his nose and traced it lightly, he closed his eyes against your touch and pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand.

  You were still. The three of you. You must have fallen asleep; you have no idea when or how long for; but Sirius stirred behind you and your eyes opened wearily.   “(Y/N),” he whispered, “Rem. Come on, we need to bathe.” You lifted your head from Remus’ arm and yawned, your bodies were stuck together with sweat and who knows what else. Remus groaned and pulled you closer to him. Sirius bent to kiss your cheek and shifted to the side of the bed. “Shall I run you a bath, (Y/N)? I imagine you’re very sore.”   “Yes please, I’m broken.” You joked and shot a wink in his direction. You yawned again. “Do you fancy a coffee?”   “I’ll put the kettle on.” Sirius said as he pulled his discarded boxers on over his manhood, he flicked the light on as he exited the room. You turned your attention back to Remus who looked so peaceful, you felt guilty disturbing him. You placed a tender kiss to his lips, and he smiled.   “Come on, we need to get up. We absolutely stink.” You said softly, Remus only pouted and pulled you even closer.   “Don’t want to.” He replied stubbornly. You laughed and pushed his arms from around you. You rubbed your eyes and trailed your hands over your neck and chest, the skin there tender. “(Y/N), can I ask you something?” Remus said, he had propped himself up onto his elbow as he watched you.   “Of course.”   “Why didn’t you ask me out when we were in school?” He asked you quizzically, you groaned and flopped backwards onto the bed. He inched closer to you and placed a hand on the side of your face, turning it to him. His green eyes intently fixed on yours.   “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I was scared you would say no. My little fifteen-year-old heart couldn’t have taken it.” You replied with a chuckle.   “I wish you had.” He paused thoughtfully; he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I would’ve said yes.”   “Really?” You pondered, he hummed and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips and suddenly, he was gone. You opened your eyes to find him at the other end of the room pulling his boxers on.   “I still might.” Remus winked, he left your bedroom with a yawn and closed the door.

  You sighed and rubbed your eyes. It was all too much, but the butterflies in your stomach reminded you that even in the midst of the horrors of this war there was still happiness to be had. Even if it came in the shape of two very unlikely men. You couldn’t believe your luck, how much it had changed.

[thorin-is-a-cuddler]

Beach Rules

A/N: Paladins at the beach? Sure! Platonic everyone. This is Keith and Shiro centric. And there’s loads of tickling and simping, yay :D

„Is that…“

„No, it can’t be!!“

„Oh, but, but… guys, it’s…“

„A beach!“ Shiro stepped out of the castle, joining Pidge, Lance and Hunk on the surface of this vacation worthy planet with a disbelieving expression.

Allura followed, taking her helmet off and actually giving one of her rare honest smiles. „Yes, a beach. This is the planet of Basoria. 10 000 years ago, this planet has already been one of my favorite places to be. It seems incredible that the Galra haven’t taken over it. But since there are no intelligent beings on here, they probably didn’t see the point. It’s a save place. Coran and I wanted to offer you this. A day off at the beach. With everything you’ve already done, paladins, I am happy if I can give you something back.“

The three younger paladins shrieked happily, shouting their thanks as they took off running for the shore, shoes flying and jackets landing in the sand. Shiro turned his head to look at Allura with a smile. „This is amazing, Allura. I think you couldn’t have made them happier.“

Allura tilted her head and put a hand on Shiro’s left arm. „I was hoping you would enjoy this as well, Shiro. You have been working harder than anyone of us. You deserve a day’s rest.“

Shiro opened his mouth in surprise, a little overwhelmed by so much attention and a little lost for words. Fortunately Keith chose excatly this moment to step out between them, a grumpy expression on his face. „A beach?“ He asked with a raised eyebrow, obviously sceptical about something that involved such a big amount of fun.

Allura narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance, having hoped for a rather different reaction. „Yes, Keith. A beach. A place for relaxation and happiness. I’m glad to see that it disgusts you so much.“

Allura went to take off her armor inside the castle, mumbling intelligibly under her breath. Keith merely sniffed and shrugged as the princess moved away, crossing his arms over his chest and looking outside with a wary expression. Three cheerful paladins were splashing around in turquoise water. They were still dressed in t-shirts and pants, but didn’t seem to care a bit about the additional soaked weight. Keith had never seen them this outgoingly happy.

He felt a weight on his shoulder and saw that Shiro had put his hand on it, an encouraging smile on his face. „Go on, Keith. Don’t worry so much. I bet it’s fun out there. Give it a try.“

Keith tilted his head slightly and looked away, a little crease appearing between his eyebrows. „Hmmm. I don’t know, Shiro.“

The warm dark eyes of the older paladin changed, giving room for worry. This guy managed to catch up to everything. „What is it?“

Keith huffed and shook his head slightly, fond of Shiro being so perceptive, yet at the same time wishing he weren’t. „It’s just… I don’t know. I- I’ve never… well, I’ve never been to a beach before. My father and I never went on vacations, you know.“

Keith shuffled around slightly, trying to act as indifferent as he could, while he was actually dying from insecurity inside. He sent a tentative side glance in Shiro’s direction and saw the realization in his expression. Keith smiled and shielded his eyes against the sun.

„I think it’ll come naturally to you, Keith.“ Shiro said softly, making Keith look at him again in surprise. „All we have to do is go out there and… do the next best thing.“

Keith blinked at him, pretty unsure about this much spontaneousness. „And what would that be?“

Shiro put his finger on his lips thoughtfully, making Keith start to consider that maybe Shiro had just as little clue what to do at a beach as he had. His features softened a little at that impression. Where Shiro knew pretty much everything about him, there was little Keith knew about Shiro in connection to his past. Shiro kept most things locked away behind so many doors that walking through all of them could take years. Keith had barely managed to walk through the half of them.

He sighed deeply and slid out of his jacket, leaving it in the castle. „Let’s start by making ourselves more… beach ready.“ Keith made an awkward motion towards his t-shirt and then bent over to take off his shoes and roll up the legs of his pants.

Shiro smiled at that and copied Keith’s actions, stripping to his sleeveless muscle shirt and rolling his pants up as well. For a second he was insecure about the bulgy skin where his right shoulder merged into the metal arm. But then a sudden feeling took over him and made him forget about any insecurities. Was that… giddiness he felt in his stomach?

There suddenly was so much energy inside of him that he had to get rid off. He looked at Keith staggering around on one leg as he tried to keep the material of his pants rolled up on the other leg. And a grin spread out on his face.

He suddenly knew exactly what he had to do.

„Keith..“

Keith looked up in time to manage a very surprised yell, before a very strong arm wrapped around his middle and lifted him off the floor. „SHIRO WHAT ARE YOU-“

„I know what we have to do!“

Keith clawed his fingers into Shiro’s foreram, holding on to him tensely as the pilot started running with Keith dangling from his side, shaking him quite thoroughly. Despite that Keith almost sighed in relief as fresh air ruffled his hair and blew under his shirt, giving him goosebumps and drying his sweat. It felt like flying through the desert with Shiro all over again. The memory of their races untied a knot in Keith’s chest and he suddenly had to let out a laugh as Shiro readjusted his grip on him, lifting him even higher than he’d been before.

„Don’t drop me!!!“

Shiro’s smirk was audible in his words as he raised his voice as well. „Oh, I will drop you in a bit!“

Keith tensed up again and looked to where Shiro was headed. Pidge, Hunk and Lance in the water had noticed their approach by now, curious happy smiles on their faces as they got closer at a dizzying speed. The realization hit Keith and he started struggling, almost causing Shiro to drop him himself.

„NO YOU WILL NOT! DON’T YOU DARE! SHIRO!“

But Shiro wasn’t bothered by Keith’s defiance in the slightest. His soft laughter mixed with Keith’s gasps and yelps and put a warm feeling in his shaking stomach.

Keith’s struggles grew stronger the closer they got to the water, forcing Shiro to swing Keith’s in front of his chest to be able to hold him there with both his arms.

Keith’s fists drummed against Shiro’s forearms, as the pilot reached the shore and took a few steps into the water. How Shiro managed to stay strong enough to hold him like that with all his laughter was a freaking mystery to the paladin of the red lion. „Enough with the violence,“ Shiro chuckled, „Time to cool your head!“

Keith’s knees were pulled up to his chest and he was eagerly trying to keep himself in that pulled up position by wrapping his hands around Shiro’s head behind him and holding on. „I DON’T THINK SO!!“

„Oh, but you will let go,“ Shiro growled, a playful tone to his voice that made Keith’s stomach drop.

„YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!!“

„Ah, Keith, you really bring this upon yourself,“ Shiro chuckled and kept his metal arm wrapped around Keith’s middle, the other suddenly dangerously unoccupied and close to his side and ribs and this was when it clicked, but too late.

„SHIRO WAIT-“ Keith shouted out in panic, trying to pull himself up higher to get away, but it was to no use. Shiro’s fingers were already squeezing his side and making their way up and hell on earth, it tickled so much, Keith had never thought anything could tickle this much.

Any plans for holding back his giggles were diminished immediately, as he broke out into hysterical squeals and deep uncontrollable laughter, twitching around like a fish as Shiro’s fingers were crawling up his side, over his ribs and right in the center of his exposed armpit. He really meant to keep his hands behind Shiro’s head, pulling at his hair to keep from being dropped. But forget that, he couldn’t take this without fighting back. It felt like Shiro was tickling him with twenty fingers at least where he was only using five and it wasn’t fair and it led to Keith’s unavoidable fate.

„SHHIHIIHRO NOHOOO PLEEEHEHEHEASE!!“

„I won’t stop until you let go!!“

„BUT THEN YOU’LL DROOHOHOP MEE!!“

„Beach rules, Keith. You are obligated to have fun!“

One last arch in Shiro’s arm, then Keith couldn’t stand it anymore and he tore his arms down, trying to push Shiro’s assaulting hand as far away from his ticklish torso as possible, when it was already time for a dive in the waves of Basoria.

Keith shrieked, when Shiro’s arms suddenly stopped holding him, honest to God shrieked - as if he’d needed any more embarrassment in front of the others. The cold water caught him quite gently though. There were no burns at the impact of the water, there was no water shooting up his nose. There was just a nice feeling of floating around and having his hair fly around his head.

He welcomed the feeling happily. But only for a few seconds. Then his wish for revenge grew too strong and he speedily made his way back up to the surface. He managed to find a stand on the sandy underground, the water up to his chest where it had been up to Shiro’s waist.

Shiro. With narrowed eyes and wet hair clinging to his forehead he saw Shiro quickly making his way deeper into the water, looking over his shoulder, laughing breathlessly.

„OH YEAH YOU BETTER RUN!! JUST YOU WAIT TIL I GET YOU BACK!“

Shiro almost slipped from laughter at Keith’s bubbly attempts oto swim after him, completely out of breath, but fueled with the desire to give him a taste of his own medicine.

In the meantime Pidge was busy climbing on top of Hunk’s shoulders in her soaked shirt, where she held on to Hunk’s hair with one hand, pointing at Shiro with the other and letting out a war cry that would have scared away Galrans. „FUGITIVE ON THE RUN! GO GET HIM! AID OUR TORTURED FRIEND!!!“

Keith almost sunk under the surface from his surprised laughter. He hadn’t expected the others to come to help him. They liked to watch Shiro tickle him into madness during sparring matches rather comfortably. But this. Maybe this was also part of the beach rules. Everyone against the strongest one. It seemed like a good rule to Keith.

Shiro on the other hand was barely able to bring much more distance between himself and the others as panicked laughter started to slow him down. Lance was gaining on him, as Hunk grabbed Pidge from his shoulders and used all his strength to throw her in Shiro’s direction, getting her closer to him as well.

Shiro thought it clever apparently to change tactics and stopped swimming in the one direction to make his way in the other one now.

Keith had to chuckle as he heard Shiro’s breathless gasps for air get closer. Alright, if this was a fun time at the beach he was sold. Now they only had to catch him.

„YOU GUYS, THIS ISN’T FAIR!!“ Shiro shouted, smiling widely as Pidge and Lance were getting awfully close.

„BEACH RULES!!“ Keith yelled as he too was getting closer to Shiro who was trying to make his way to the shore to be able to run away. He’d be way too fast for the other paladins if he managed to reach it. They couldn’t let him get away.

„Oh no, you will NOT!!“ Lance exclaimed passionately as Shiro was stumbling to his feet in the ankle high water. The plue paladin took a large dive and actually managed to pull Shiro down with a splash. The two of them rolled over in the warm part of the water, Shiro breathless from laughter already while Lance was yelling almost as loud as Pidge had before.

„You did it, Lance!“ Keith cheered as he too got to his feet in the low water, throwing himself on top of the other two. Shiro groaned with laughter at the additional weight and tried to push the two of them off of him.

„Now, just wait a second, just wait…“ Another weight took away Shiro’s breath as Hunk dropped down on top of Keith, slowly but successfully building a sandwich.

„We have him! Do we have him?“ Hunk spluttered and looked at his two friends underneath himself. Keith held up a thumb, despite the lack of air.

„We’ve got him! You guys are the best!!“

Pidge arrived with a wide smile on her face and was a bit reluctant to putting herself on top of the three boys as well. She didn’t have to anyway. Instead she dropped down next to Shiro’s face and grinned at him evilly.

„Ha, you didn’t see that coming, did you?“

Shiro glared at her, still out of breath, but he just couldn’t keep it up and a soft, playful expression was back on his face again in no time. „I guess Voltron’s bond must be really strong already. Just don’t lose your head in the process…“

All four of them groaned inexplicably loud at this bad pun and Pidge felt no sympathy for him in the slightest as she told the other three to give him hell just for that. Even though he was pretty doomed in his current position. He couldn’t move out from underneath the three boys and all of them put their hands to good use some place on his tall upper body. Hunk was pinching his sides, as Keith worked his hands under his arms and Lance immediately used his position for good access to Shiro’s ribs.

Pidge was blessed with the picture of Shiro throwing his head back in ticklish agony, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth opened in the brightest smile, as beautiful laughter was shooting out of him.

He couldn’t fight off six hands with just two and Keith enjoyed strongly making him laugh this hard, especially with the aid of his friends. He could tell that Shiro was very fine with them having their fun like this and it warmed Keith’s heart that Shiro was so selfless and soft in every situation. He looked at Shiro throwing his head from side to side, shaking with incessant giggles and trying to arch his back against the overwhelming sensations and he just knew that Shiro would never stop doing whatever it took to make him happy and have fun despite the times they were living in.

He knew that there was no „Voltron losing their head“. Shiro’s love was the starting point of all bonding among the paladins. He was the heart of the group.

Keith certainly knew that. And the others would at the very latest agree now that Shiro’s determination had managed to connect all paladins in having fun together.

[whiskery-louis]

Body Image

Calum Hood x Reader

Warnings: Body image, body shaming, self esteem issues, angst

A/N: This is my first Cal writing. I've been reading a lot about him and I just love him so please enjoy BestFriend!Cal

Word Count: 2.2k

I sighed turning around to look at myself in the mirror once more, my mouth twisted to the side as I studied the third outfit I had tried on. I wanted to believe I looked as good in it as Katie had convinced me when we were at the mall. I wiped at the tear that threatened to fall down my face. I don’t know why I agreed to go out tonight anyways, I thought it would help me feel better after the break up but as I looked at myself in the mirror all the things he said to me were running through my head.

My body didn’t fall under society's standard notion of beauty. I was always a little bit heavier than most, my stomach being a bit rounder, my thighs a bit larger and my arms a bit jiggly. It was always something that I struggled with, but being told by someone that you love that they are breaking up with you because of your weight will really mess with you. I used to enjoy buying new clothes and getting dressed up, but now all I see are my flaws. I did what I could to keep my mind off my body image, but it's not easy with social media being a constant reminder. I spent most of my days in t-shirts and sweatpants praying the baggy clothes wouldn’t call unwanted attention to my stomach.

I sighed again as I pulled the shirt over my head and replaced it with a t-shirt. I didn’t feel up to going out anymore, being unable to like anything on my body really put a toll on my mental health.

I sent Katie a quick text to let her know I wanted to stay in. I knew she was worried about me, but she was the only one who knows why Dalton really broke up with me and didn’t have the heart to drag me out to a bar when she knew how much I was struggling. Katie tried to convince me to tell Calum but I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else pitying me. Everyone else though that Dalton and I broke up over commitment issues and I let them think that. It was less embarrassing than the truth. Katie tried to tell me that Dalton was the one who should be embarrassed for how he treated me at the end, but whenever she tried to bring it up I changed the subject. I wasn’t ready to admit that I believed everything he said about me.

I trudged down to the kitchen to find something to eat, I was really craving some comfort food but after being upset with how I looked in every outfit I opted to make a salad. I plopped down on the couch mindlessly scrolling through Netflix before settling on New Girl. My pity party was interrupted by two quick knocks on the door. I hoped they had the wrong apartment, but two more knocks quickly followed. I groaned as I stood up and trudged my way to the door. I looked through the peephole and saw Calum in the hallway holding a pizza.

“Go away, I’m not in the mood,” I called through the door.

“Come on Y/N open up! Katie told me you canceled again tonight. I”m not letting you spend another Friday night alone.”

I mentally cursed Katie, vowing to send her a strongly worded text later.

“I’m fine Cal really, just had a long week.”

“I’m not leaving Y/N, and if you don’t let me in I’ll just sit out here singing all night.”

I hit my head against the door knowing Cal wasn’t going anywhere. I unlocked the door and walked back to the couch knowing he would hear it and come in automatically. I picked up my salad, taking another bite but I lost my appetite at the smell of the pizza wafting from the kitchen.

“Where are all your plates? Nevermind I’m bringing the whole box in, I’m starving anyway.”

He set the pizza down on the coffee table and threw his body on the couch next to me, nearly crushing me under his weight.

“Cal...can’t...breathe,” I muttered. “Why are you crushing me?”

“Missed you, we’ve barely hung out since I got back from tour. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Have not.” I pushed at his chest and managed to create enough space between the two of us that I was able to scoot back to the other side of the couch. Calum sat up and pouted at me, while I just rolled my eyes at him.

“Have so, ever since you broke up with Dalton you’ve shut me out. I’ve tried to give you space but I can’t standby anymore knowing that you're hurting and do nothing to help.”

“Cal I really am okay, I just needed time to process.” I glanced over to him to see that he was staring at me with a look of disbelief on his face.

“You know I can tell when you’re lying. If you’re as fine as you say you are then why haven’t you touched the pizza I brought. I got it plain with extra cheese and a large side of ranch. You’re favorite.”

I shrugged, “I’m not hungry,” I mumbled, not even believing my own lie. “I had a salad.”

“You mean the one sitting there that looks barely eaten,” he looked at me, his eyebrow raised, clearly seeing through my bullshit. “Katie told me that there is more to your breakup with Dalton than you’re leading on. Plus talk to me Y/N, I’m worried about you.”

I sighed and pulled the nearest blanket over my body, I felt nearly naked under Calum’s stare. He always had a way of knocking down my defences and convincing me to let him help. I didn’t want his help this time though, I was too scared to admit that Dalton was right about me, I had barely admitted it to myself, let alone tell Cal. We sat there in silence, him waiting for me to speak and me playing with the edge of the blanket praying he would drop it.

“Hey,” Cal reached out and placed his hand on my knee, “you can tell me anything you know that right?”

I don’t know if it was the look of concern in his eyes or the comfort from the circles he was rubbing on my knee but my walls were slowly breaking down like they always did around Calum.

“I lied to you about the breakup like Katie said, we didn’t break up because Dalton couldn’t commit. He’s the one who broke up with me.” Cal shot me a confused look, not knowing why I would lie to him about something like this, but he didn’t interrupt me. “He told me that I gained a few too many pounds the last few months and didn’t listen when he told me to eat better or get out more. He said he couldn’t be with someone who let herself go and that he wasn’t attracted to me anymore.”

“What a fucking ass, I’m so sorry that he said that to you Y/N. I’m going to fucking kill him,” Cal spoke through his teeth, trying to quell the anger rising in him with every word I spoke. I could tell that it was taking everything in him to not run out of the house in search of Dalton to beat him for hurting me like this. And it was the last thing I wanted.

“Cal it’s fine,” I shrugged, pulling the blanket closer to me. “It’s not like he’s wrong anyways.” I whispered under my breath instantly regretting it when I realized Calum heard me. His head snapped to me, jaw slightly open in shock at what he just heard.

“Y/N you know that everything that prick said about you was wrong right? You have to know how beautiful you are.”

A scoff escaped my lips before I could stop it. “You have to say that Cal, you’re my best friend but please don’t lie to me. I don’t deserve your pity, it’s why I didn’t want to tell you. He just confirmed what I’ve always known deep down. I’m not worth it, I’m not beautiful and I just have to accept it and move on with my life.”

It was silent after I spoke. I could see the gears turning in Cal’s head as he processed what I just said. This was exactly why I had been avoiding him since the breakup, I knew once we talked about it I would admit that I believed everything Dalton said about me. It was the worst part of the breakup, knowing that my deepest insecurities came to light and were thrown in my face like that.

Cal moved slightly on the couch, moving his hand from my knee to take the blanket out of my hands. He pulled the blanket off me and tossed it on the floor. He wrapped his one hand around mine, moving the other to my chin so I was looking into his eyes as he spoke.

“Y/N please believe me when I say you are beautiful. Inside and out. I love everything about you and I’m not just saying this as your best friend. Dalton is a dick for saying those things about your body and they are so far from the truth. I know you’ve always struggled with your body image but believe me when I say that I love your body. I love the wrinkles around your eyes when you laugh, I love that you aren’t as skinny as those instagram models, it shows that you’re real and that you take care of your body by eating. I love that you can put a whole pizza away faster than me and the guys, it’s one of my favorite memories. I love your stretch marks, they are a unique map of only your body. I love how your body feels like it was made for me. I never want you to hate your body because it is an amazing thing. Fuck Y/N can’t you see that you are perfect to me, every last inch of you. Your eyes, your hand give the best massages, fuck even your boobs are fucking perfect-”

Calum’s eyes widened as he realized he got a little carried away with his speech praising my body. I’m sure my face mirrored his. I never knew Calum felt this way, never imagine this would be his reaction when I told him the truth about the breakup. I couldn’t help the small smile that was forming on my lips. There was a new tension in the air that wasn’t there before. It was a new feeling between Cal and I, but there was something so natural about it. Deciding to cross the line, I reached out for his free hand. His eyes narrowed at my touch, trying to decipher what I was going to do next. I looked him in the eyes as I slowly pulled his hand closer to me, placing it on my side just below my breast.

“What were you saying about my boobs being perfect?”

He eyed me tentatively, trying to gauge my response to what he just said. “Y/N what are you-”

I cut him off. “Calum thank you for saying all that. You don’t know how much that means to me. I realized Dalton was a dick but it was still hard to hear. But you-you always know just want to say to make me feel better. It’s something I still have to work on and I think having you by my side will help. I think we both knew this was going to happen one day Cal. It’s always been you and me, so why can’t one day be today? So again, what were you saying about my boobs?”

My breath hitched as Cal moved his hand slowly up from my side to cup my breast.

“I said your boobs are fucking perfect, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve pictured them bouncing as you ride me.”

Now it was my turn to pick my jaw off the floor. I wasn’t expecting that comment to come from him. He chuckled as his lustful eyes met my shocked ones.

“I’m going to show you just how much I love your body.”

I woke up the next morning, rolled over and collided with a solid body. I opened my eyes and saw Calum looking down at me with a small smile on his face.

“Good morning beautiful,” he moved his head to give me a peck on the lips. “How did you sleep?”

I smiled back at him, “Good, glad last night wasn’t a dream.”

“How’re you feeling this morning?”

I snuggled closer to his chest, “I feel much better than I did yesterday. I feel like I could learn to love myself with your help.” I pressed a kiss to his neck.

“I like the sound of that. Maybe I can show you how beautiful you are again after breakfast.”

[prepare4trouble]

Vikings fanfic - Apparition

Hvitserk rolled over onto his back and stared forward. Candlelight from the single candle that he had left burning on the nightstand illuminated the room in soft light. He lay still for a moment, uncertain what had woken him from his slumber.

The night was silent, save for the sound of the wind outside.

Puzzled, he allowed his eyes to close once again. If something had woken him, it had passed now, and his body was eager for sleep. He felt himself begin to drift away, sinking slowly beneath the waves of slumber that washed over him.

“A nice, comfortable room you have here, brother.”

With a sudden, sharp intake of breath, Hvitserk’s eyes sprung open again. The voice that cut through the silence of the Wessex night was one that he had never expected to hear again. Not in this life, at least.

He searched the bedchamber with his eyes, peering through the darkness. The long shadows cast by the candle, formed dark shapes that morphed and changed as they danced in time with the flame that flickered in the air currents of the room.

Hvitserk took a deep breath, and tried to still the pounding of his heart. When, finally, he trusted himself to speak again, his voice was a low, uncertain whisper.

“I...Ivar?”

No. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. Ivar was dead. Hvitserk had seen it happen. He had watched in horrified disbelief as the life had drained from his brother’s body; he had carried him from the battlefield himself, and finally, he had placed him in the ground, careful, so as not to cause further breaks to his fragile bones as he had lowered him into his final resting place.

And yet that voice had been unmistakable; not just the voice itself, but the tone, the subtle hint of a mocking smile he could hear concealed within the words.

He was answered by silence; a silence that felt much more complete now than it had a moment earlier. Hvitserk held his breath, hoping for a reply but terrified that he might get one.

Nothing happened. Carefully, he reached for the candle still burning by his bed, and with a trembling hand, tilted it to touch the flame to the wick of several other candles. Wax dripped onto the nightstand, and with each new flame, the shadows moved, intensifying as they shrunk away from the light, until they revealed a dark, impossible shape seated at the end of his bed.

Hvitserk blinked, giving his eyes time to adjust, and to make sense of what he was seeing, but the more he stared, the more he could see Ivar. He frowned. “You’re dead,” he said.

The shadows that had somehow come together to form his younger brother, turned to look at him. His face was completely familiar, right down to the scars. Ivar shrugged. “So what? Does that mean I’m not allowed to visit my brother? Or can I not be here because you’re a Christian now and it upsets your delicate new faith. Is that what you mean, Athelstan?”

Hvitserk felt himself flinch. Ivar had never been supposed to know. Not about the conversion, or the name that King Alfred had bestowed upon him. The idea that he did know, even though he was certain that this was not real, provoked a deep sense of shame. He was firm in his conviction that he had made the right choice, but he was equally certain that it was something he would never have done if Ivar had been there to tell him what he thought of the idea.

He shook his head. “Don’t call me that.”

“What, Athelstan? Why not? It’s your name now, isn’t it? You cast aside the name our mother and father gave you, renounced it along with Odin, and all of our other Gods. I’ve got to call you something, haven’t I?”

“My old name will do fine,” Hvitserk told him.

Ivar frowned, then shrugged as though it didn’t matter anyway. “If you say so.”

He was dressed in the same clothing he had worn the last time Hvitserk had seen him alive, and he wore his hair in the same braids. Everything about him looked exactly as it had that day on the battlefield. Everything but his eyes. The whites of his eyes appeared to have lost their blue tint, indicating that the danger of broken bones had now passed. Too late, of course.

“This isn’t real,” Hvitserk said to himself. His new faith did not allow for visitations from the other side. The dead remained where they were, in Heaven, or in Hell. “I’m imagining it,” he said. “Or dreaming.”

“If that’s what you want to believe, feel free,” Ivar told him. “But I assure you, I am very real.”

Hvitserk looked at him again. He certainly looked real. And sounded real. “Really?” He wanted it to be true, no matter how impossible it might be.

“Absolutely,” Ivar told him. “But of course, if I was a figment of your imagination, isn’t that exactly what I would say? I probably wouldn’t own up to it, would I?”

He had a point. Hvitserk kicked back the blanket that covered him, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed so that he and Ivar were sitting side by side. He reached across and touched him on the shoulder, half expecting his hand to pass right through him. Impossibly, he felt real, as though flesh and blood.

He tried again, reaching for his brother’s hand this time, and feeling the well-worn leather of the fingerless gloves he wore to protect his hands on the rough ground. Once again, it felt familiar, and completely real.

“How…?”

“The dead are often around us. You used to believe that too.”

“But not like this. Anyway, I…” Hvitserk hesitated. “I don’t believe it anymore. The dead are in Heaven, or in Hell. They don’t come back.”

“The Christian dead, maybe. But then, maybe not. I’ve met a few of them, they aren’t so different from us.” Ivar shrugged. “But if that’s what you choose to believe, I won’t try to stop you. That’s not why I’m here.”

Hvitserk nodded, relieved, because faced with something like this, he was certain that his new faith would crumble if Ivar chose to challenge it. “Then why are you here?”

“I just wanted to see that you were all right. After all, even though I am the younger brother, I know you always looked up to me -- not literally, of course, since I spent so much time crawling on the ground, but in a manner of speaking -- and now I’m gone, I thought you might be feeling… untethered.”

“I’m fine,” Hvitserk lied. “Anyway, this only proves you’re not real. The real Ivar wouldn’t care how I felt.” If he had, he wouldn’t have gone into battle that day, knowing how vulnerable to breaks his bones had been. Hvitserk had never seen his eyes more blue than they had been that day, and although they hadn’t known exactly how it would happen, both of them had known that Ivar wasn’t going to leave the battlefield alive.

Ivar feigned shock, gasped, and clutched at his chest as though shot by an arrow. “You wound me, brother,” he said. “Of course I care. But I see you’ve found yourself another new faith to keep you occupied.” He leaned forward on his crutch, then turned to stare searchingly at Hvitserk. “How does being a Christian suit you? It looks a little boring. What kind of a god doesn’t want a sacrifice now and then? And all that kneeling…” he smiled. “It would be no good for me. One advantage to being a cripple is that I cannot kneel. Not even to Odin himself, and certainly not to your god.”

He had a point. “Are you still a cripple, then?" Hvitserk asked him. “Even in Valhalla?” Somehow, he had expected that after the Valkyries carried his brother to Odin’s great hall, he would find himself free of pain, and able to walk and run, and to do all the things that had been denied him in life.

“Of course,” Ivar told him. “After all, this is who I am. I’m Ivar the Boneless. Take that away, give me a healthy body, and what would that make me?

“It would make you Ivar,” Hvitserk told him without hesitation. “Ivar Ragnarsson.”

“Exactly,” Ivar agreed. “And whoever heard of him?”

Hvitserk smiled. “I have,” he said. “He’s my brother, and I love him.”

Ivar smiled too. “I should go, Athelstan,” he said. “I imagine that after this, you have a long day of praying ahead of you.”

“Will I see you again?” Hvitserk asked.

“Maybe.” Ivar shrugged. “Certainly in the next life. For now, I’m going to check in on Prince Igor, and find out the name of my child. I’m going to drink with our father, and make sure that mother knows about everything I managed to achieve in life, because for all that she loved me, I honestly don’t think she ever believed I would do anything truly great. Maybe I’ll even get Sigurd to forgive me for cutting his time so short. And by the time I’ve done all that, maybe you will be ready to join us in Valhalla.”

Hvitserk rubbed at his eyes with a finger as though tired, trying to disguise the tears that threated to fall. He shook his head. “I’m a Christian now, Ivar,” he reminded him. “I don’t get to go to Valhalla.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. There is room for all the sons of Ragnar at Odin’s table,” Ivar assured him. “But I’ll let you in on a secret that not even the Seer knew while he was in Midgard. Valhalla, your Christian Heaven, Hel, all the other places that people we never even got to meet believe they go when they die? They’re not so far apart. No matter where you go, we’ll see each other again. If that’s what you want, of course.”

It was. It was what he wanted more than anything. Hvitserk nodded.

Ivar leaned forward to rest his weight on his crutch, and levered himself to his feet as Hvitserk had seen him do many times before. “I suppose I’ll see you there, then,” he said, then took a step as though he intended to walk away.

“Wait!” Hvitserk reached out to grab his brother’s arm, half expecting his fingers to pass through him as though he was already gone, but he still felt impossibly real. “Wait,” he said again. “I don’t want you to leave. I’m all alone here.”

Ivar shook his head. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “Live a little; marry some Christian girl and have some children to keep you company. Raise them with our stories. Tell them about Odin and Thor, Frey and Freya. And tell them about your crazy, crippled brother who led two great armies to England, and traveled the silk road.” He smiled. “Tell them they have a cousin in Rus. The world is getting smaller every day, so who knows, maybe one day they’ll even get to meet him.”

Hvitserk nodded. This time he didn’t bother to hide his tears. “I miss you,” he said.

“Why?” Ivar asked him. “I’m not that far away.”

Without warning, a sudden gust of wind chilled the room and extinguished the candles that Hvitserk had lit, leaving only one remaining. He turned to look at them, only for a second, and when he turned back, Ivar was gone, replaced by the flickering shadows that had been there before.

He took a deep breath, smelling the unmistakable scent of extinguished candles as he did. “Ivar?” he said hesitantly. There was no reply. He reached out into the space where, seconds earlier, his brother had been standing. This time, his hand passed through nothing but the air. “Ivar?” he tried again, a little louder this time, but no longer expecting a response. The silence obliged.

Reaching to his side, he placed a hand on the bed, where moments earlier his brother had been sitting, and was not surprised to find the surface warm to the touch. He sighed. “Fine, be like that,” he said to the silence, then wiped his tears with the back of his hand, and smiled. “I suppose I’ll see you soon,” he added. “Not too soon though.” Ivar was right, he needed to live first.

And now, for reasons that he didn’t quite understand, the conversation that should have left him shaken and questioning his Christian faith, had instead lifted a weight from his shoulders that he hadn’t even realised he had been carrying.

With one final glance around the room, Hvitserk lay back down in his bed, pulled his blanket over him, and allowed sleep to drag him back down into its comforting embrace.

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Post-Moments

a ‘momentary’ follow-up ... of sorts ...

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own Chapter 7: Fancy Paper Napkins Chapter 8: End of the Road (post-Redux/Redux 2) Chapter 9: Post-Moments

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

First thing back was her sense of smell. It took nearly a week but suddenly, as she walked, unannounced but never unwelcome into his apartment, she stopped, the look of surprise on her face made him immediately laugh, then tilt his head, “you shouldn’t be that surprised to see me here. It’s my apartment.”

Ignoring his statement, she quick-stepped his way, burying her face first in his shirt, then, pulling him to her level, into his neck, sniffing like a bloodhound on the trail of some erstwhile criminal with a bag of treats. So taken aback by the invasion, he simply stood there, letting her take several deep inhales before finally reaching for her shoulders, “you keep breathing like that and you’ll pass out.”

Twisting her head, she gave him a quick kiss, then dropped back flat-footed, forcing him to once again look down at her while she looked up, “I haven’t been able to smell you since day 12 of ‘IT’ so I’m making up for lost time.”

She’d told him, finally, after he’d repeatedly offered her tempting foods to try to coax some weight back on her bony frame, that she hadn’t been able to smell anything, and therefore, taste anything, for awhile but she’d never stated the exact day until now and standing there, already changed into jeans and a t-shirt, an epiphany of sorts smacked him hard upside the head, “what? Day 12?” Ignorant idiocy settling in, “Shit. You sat through a steak, my famous garlic mushrooms, six tubs of ice cream, and all those M&Ms I kept feeding you and you couldn’t taste a thing? The amount of money I could have saved during those months I tempted you with anything I could find while, really, it all tasted like sawdust.” Feigning irritation but failing miserably as he scooted closer, kissing her forehead, “what a crock of shit.”

“I got …” being generous for his sake, “hints of flavor.”

“Fuck, woman, we’re having a steak and ice cream orgy tonight. I’m going shopping.”

She stopped his movements with hands on arms, “hey, let me go taste something and see if that came back as well before you waste all your money on cow foods.”

Following her to his kitchen, “both things really do involve cows. That’s rather unnerving, actually.”

With a grin, she found a cookie, then, tasting it, she shook her head, “I’d save the cow for another day.”

Mulder, wondering if his earlier suggestion of Mexican for dinner was still appropriate, he decided ‘no’, then, “well, how about we taking a smelling tour of DC and eat toast for dinner?”

He got a well-deserved backhand to his chest, “we are eating at Papadapoulous’ House of Salsa tonight because you’ve been talking about that place ad nauseum all week. Get your coat.” When he didn’t move, she nodded, giving him a smile, “we can do the smelling tour after, okay?”

“Deal.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Taste came back ten days later. Just as Mulder came out of her bathroom, about to announce that no one should go in there for 35 to 45 minutes, Scully took a sip of his ice tea and spit it right back out, soaking her shirt and the floor in front of her. Mulder forgot his comment and flew over to her, socks sliding on the polished wood floor, “what happened?”

Feeling like a complete and utter moron, she first retrieved a towel to mop both herself and the floor, then looked at her partner, “I stole some of your ice tea and I could taste it and it scared me, if you can believe it. I wasn’t expecting anything and suddenly there was something and my first reaction,” beginning to laugh at the whole situation, “I spit it out. I didn’t even think to swallow it.”

Mulder shook his head, “are you sure we’re still talking about ice tea and not dirty things?”

He could almost hear her brain suddenly shift gears, brakes squeaking, mind two steps behind, “what?”

It was his turn to laugh, pulling her into a hug, soaking wet shirt and all, “I’ll give you two minutes to think about it, then I’ll explain if necessary.”

It took almost four seconds before, “I’ve never been a spitter, Mulder.”

That worked entirely too well for him and dismissing all but his hairy-moled, make-up caked fourth-grade teacher from his mind, he held her another minute then moved back, calmed down again, “you should go change your shirt.”

“No wet t-shirt comments?” Her sassy retort told him both that she knew what her swallowing comment had done to him and what the wet t-shirt mention would. She was evil. She knew it. He knew it. He loved it.

“Just go change. Tonight, we shop for steak.”

Loving him to pieces, she reached for his elbow, playing with the sharp bent end, “so, I know we just had Mexican a few days back but now that I can taste things, I desperately want salsa and a Margarita.”

“Large?”

“The biggest one they fucking sell, pardon my French.”

Their kiss was much longer this time, Scully’s fingers firmly twirled in his shirt by the time they were done, Mulder’s hands curled around her ass, “then can I make you mushrooms this weekend?”

“Pounds of them. Extra garlic and butter,” suddenly swallowing, “yeah, we need to go eat.”

“Lead the way.”

&&&&&&&&&&

His arrival at her house that Friday night with grocery bags was, oddly, the first time her body reacted to him. They’d been making out, to use the juvenile-y appropriate term, but nothing more, Scully still recovering, Mulder still nervous about 12000 things between and surrounding them both.

But seeing him standing there, in her door, goofy smile and slipping bottle of wine in hand, she felt something. It was a fast twinge but it was familiar but surprising and her widening eyes told him something but he wasn’t sure what and he didn’t ask.

Had he asked, he may have gotten an answer that would have necessitated bringing fourth-grade teacher back … but instead, he walked in, setting bags on counter before turning, “hungry?”

For the first time in months, she appreciated the underlying double-meaning he hadn’t intended, “yes. Very much so. How long do the mushrooms take to cook?”

“At least a few hours.” Pulling things from bags, “but I bought appetizers and,” holding up several National Enquirers, “reading material. Let’s see if we can find a case somewhere in the tropics. I could use a ‘vacation’.”

Only Mulder.

Mushrooms cleaned and slow-cooking, they nibbled their way through eight different kinds of cheeses, each one a symphony to Scully’s previously deadened tongue. She may have let slip a ‘hhhmmm’ that could have possibly been interpreted as a moan by one Fox Mulder but he didn’t comment and she kept doing it.

He was glad he wore the looser jeans tonight.

They chuckled and argued in tandem while thumbing through the papers Mulder brought: telling stories, tossing theories, debunking nonsense. Finishing the first bottle of wine slowly, Mulder offered a second but Scully shook her head, “save it for dinner.”

Agreeing, he moved to stir the crockpot, then returned, towel over his shoulder, licking his fingers from the buttery sample he’d eaten in the kitchen, “They’re getting there.”

Second twinge, this one longer, had her lower abdomen contracting in a tickling giggle kind of way. The shiver up her spine caused her to visibly vibrate for a moment but Mulder, luckily or unluckily, not noticing, sat back down, returning to the ‘Owl that carried off a family of four in their camper van’ story on page 26.

What the hell.

Then again, he was licking his fingers.

The third zing when she returned to this thought was not as strong as the second but made her smile nonetheless, which Mulder actually did notice, “what?”

She pinked-up instantly, having forgotten the heat of a blush across her skin, and hands to cheeks suddenly, “just … a little too much wine.”

He moved his hand to her pulled up knee, squeezing it, “we don’t have to open the second one. It’ll keep.”

“No. No. I, uh, I, … I’m fine. I … I’m fine.”

Gibbering idiot more like it but whatever.

&&&&&&&&&&

If sex were food, Scully decided, it would be that steak. Mulder went for broke, filet and strip, buttery smooth, medium rare, warm, pink, juicy, perfect blend of garlic and butter, rosemary and pepper. Between the taste; the sight of Mulder across the table; the smell of wine and smoke; the look of him, messy-haired and smiling, relaxed three feet from her; the feel of impending summer breezes through the window, she tipped into sensory overload, eyes shutting as she tried to bring herself back to some kind of alignment.

Then, eyes still closed, she heard his voice, “hey, you. Ya’llright?”

The tinging vibration hit her full-force, arm hair standing on end, neck flushing, nipples tightening, a thousand images of him and her, himandher, flashing through her mind, driving the feeling shooting from stomach to clit to soul in speed of light, circuitous fashion, “yeah. Yeah. Just enjoying.”

Her voice was all over the damn map with those four words and Mulder, knowing her better than he knew himself, tilted his head, finally understanding exactly what was happening, “I can see that.”

Quaking quieting somewhat, she shifted in her chair, hoping to relieve some of the pressure she was feeling, pressing down on the cushion like she was seventeen and at the movie theater with her boyfriend, begging silently for him to touch her and simultaneously thinking about touching herself when she got home. Not able to look him in the eye, however, she cut another piece of her steak, praying she wouldn’t choke.

Shifting himself as well, watching her hips search for a good spot against the chair, he kept any comment to himself. He hadn’t pushed anything these last weeks, knowing she was recovering, finding herself again, situating ‘us’ and ‘we’ into a previously accepted solitary status quo of ‘I’ and ‘me’.

But, fuck, he had been tempted and tonight, seeing her like this, pushed his resolve to the breaking point. If she made one more sound in her throat, he truly believed he’d explode under the table, a quiet yet uncontrollable manifestation of four years and infinite wishes. “More wine?”

“Yes, please.”

She fought herself the rest of the meal, making stilted, dinner time conversation that they both saw through, both breathed through, both suffered through.

Dish cleanup and pajama changing quieted her down, her mind focused on other things for a little while but once they’d sat down on the couch, lights off, movie in, ice cream waiting in the freezer for later, she became acutely aware of his proximity to her. He’d offered her half the afghan, shifted the coffee table a little closer for her feet to rest on if she wanted, kissed the top of her head just as the opening credits began. She, in turn, had to keep reminding herself how to breathe evenly.

Sensory overload was kicking in again, the smell of him, his radiating heat, his voice as he contributed oft-placed comments on police procedurals happening on the TV. Her hand found its way to his thigh, fingers playing with the inside seam of his cut-off sweats. His own landed on her flannel pants, roughly same distance between allowable knee and forbidden juncture.

Her voice surprised her, “Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your stance on third base?”

Slowly, he found the remote and paused before swinging his gaze in her direction, “Yankees or something else?”

Her inhale shuddered, “not the Yankees.”

His hand immediately slid from allowable to not-so-forbidden now, caught between viced thighs, “this third base?”

Confession tumbled from her lips, “I haven’t done anything or felt anything, really, in months and suddenly you walked in today with grocery bags and that stupid grin of yours and you smell fantastic and something kicked in and,” wiggling out of necessity to attempt to … whatever …, “I don’t recall the last time I was this …”

Mulder finished her sentence with a grin, “horny?”

“Yes!”

Somehow, he lifted her bodily onto his lap, his chest to her back, hand sliding effortlessly down the front of her pajamas, finding the sweet spot before she had time to so much as offer the feeble word of ‘bed’.

Then she didn’t care.

At all.

Focusing mainly on his fingers, warm, quick, unexperienced but willing to learn. Instead of following, she led, whispering once to move a little to the left, whispering again to go harder, arching her back as she came in under a minute, body shuddering, twitching, before settling back down.

Over her shoulder, his husky voice sounded in her ear, “can I be next?”

It took all of nine seconds to stand up, drop her clothes to the floor, order him to lift up, pull his pants off, then climb on, already wet, already slick, already taking him inside with a slip and a slide.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Her giggles made him smile, her rosy cheeks made him happy, her warm skin within lips reach made him dizzy but above all else, her panting breath against his neck made him ecstatic, knowing she was alive and well and would be for the foreseeable future. When she finally calmed down, knees digging into the couch springs, skin glued to skin, she pulled herself back, sweat running down Mulder’s chest where they had been pressed together moments earlier, “I had planned for that to be a little … less …” waving her hands around in wordless definition, “that.”

“Was perfect to me.”

Kissing him lightly, then resting forehead to his, “one day, this will all be organized and we’ll make it to the bedroom.”

Hands back on her bare ass, “highly doubt that but it’s nice to have a plan.”

Sitting back, she reached out to him, lightly running her fingers along his hairline, feather-touch making his eyes shut, “I think we should do that again later.”

About to ask why not now, he had an epiphany of sorts and looking at her, square and jokingly judging, “you want ice cream, don’t you?”

This time, her nose scrunched up when she smiled, nodding with enthusiasm, “kind of. But I promise, you’ll always beat out ice cream after today … mostly.”

Pulling her down for a kiss, he then squeezed her thighs to nudge her off him, “come on, woman. Let’s go clean up so we can have dessert.”

“I love you, Mulder.”

“You just love my Rocky Road.”

“That, too.”

[kisskeiji]

1. On your own.

Lost & Found.

WARNINGS: language, mentions of cheating and violence (bokuto still wants to get physical lol), mentions of alcohol (?)

Needless to say, as soon as you arrived at your sister's apartment she bombarded you with questions you didn’t know nor wanted to answer, she understood and let you cry your heart out, even after all that your heart was still heavy inside your chest. When you woke up the following morning you could only describe yourself as a mess; you slept with the same clothes from the night before, your shoes were still on and you didn’t bother to take your makeup off resulting in a trail of mascara stains all over your cheeks. The sheets on your sister's bed were cold and not waking up with Hajime by your side made the knot in your throat come back along with the uneasiness of not being home or feeling safe at all.

You hated it. You hated how vulnerable you were. You hated the weight that was crushing your chest. You hated not being able to express what you felt. You hated how tired you were. You hated yourself for being so weak and for not knowing how to be without him.

And most of all, you hated yourself for not hating him.

You loathed what he did to you and your relationship, but as much as you tried to convince yourself you hated him, you couldn’t. Sure, he broke your heart, but he also owned it. You loved him so much it hurt, but there was no way you two could get past this and act as if any of this never happened, this wasn’t something a long talk and a hug could solve. The thought of it not being a one time thing took over your mind.

What if he cheated when he was studying overseas? How many other girls he slept with the last four years.

‘I’m an idiot’

“Morning.” Your sister entering the room took you out of your train of thoughts “I made breakfast.”

“I'm not hungry.”

“You need to eat.” She said brushing your hair with her hand “Take a shower first.” She got up and walked to her closet to get you some clothes.

“I don’t want to.”

“Don’t care, we are getting your stuff and then we are going home to have lunch with mom. I am not asking, she wants to see you.”

“You called her?” You asked in disbelief. ‘Snitch.’

“I knew you weren’t planning to because you don’t want to worry her, but she can give you better advice than your twenty-six year old sister who has no relationship experience.” She said before throwing a pair of jeans in your direction. You could only groan before getting up and walking to her bathroom. You knew better than arguing with her and deep inside you were thankful, you missed your mom, but going back to your apartment frightened you.

Once you were in the car you dialed Akaashi´s number, ignoring all of Iwaizumi’s texts and calls, he was the last person you wanted to talk to and you wanted to make sure he wasn’t home. Before you could go back to spiraling in your thoughts, Akaashi picked up the phone.

“Y/N?” You heard Akaashi say on the other side of the line.

“Hey, ‘Kaashi.”

“How are you feeling?” It was a dumb question, they both knew and he loudly smacked himself for asking. You chuckled.

“Like shit.” You answered.

“I figured.” You both laughed. “Hey, is that Y/N?” You heard Bokuto “Let me put you on speaker.”

“Hi, Bokuto.”

“Good morning, pretty lady, are you feeling better?” He asked and you heard a loud thud. “Akaashi, what was that for? Y/N-chan, Akaashi just hit me with one of his books!” Bokuto whined and you laughed at him and the way he pronounced Akaashi´s name.

“I’m fine, Bokuto-san, thanks for asking. Can I ask you both a favor?”

“You want me to beat Iwaizumi’s ass? Say less.”

“Bokuto-san.” The younger of the two called in a stern tone.

Once again you laughed at their antics. “Not quite, Bokuto-san. But can you make sure he is not home? I don’t know if he went to work today.”

“You are coming for your stuff?” Akaashi asked.

“Yeah, but I really don’t want to see him right now, and my sister wants to kill him.” You said and looked at your sister who mouthed a ‘damn right’ without looking away from the road.

“That’s the spirit!” The gray haired man said followed by another thud and a whine.

“Count on it, Y/N.”

“Thank you, I’ll see you in a bit.”

“I’ll wait outside for you!” You heard Bokuto before exchanging goodbyes and hanging up.

You reached the apartment complex and spotted Bokuto outside like he promised.

“I called Tanaka and he said he is at the gym, so we are clear.” He said once he reached the car and opened the door for you.

“Good, let’s make it quick and put everything in my trunk.” Your sister said and opened the car trunk to grab some boxes to pack your belongings. The three of you walked inside the complex and took the elevator to meet Akaashi who was waiting at your door.

With a long sigh, you unlocked the door and walked in unsure of what to expect. The air was heavier and again, you felt uneasy to be there and reminisce about what happened the night before.

“I’ll get my clothes and some stuff I have in my room. Can you guys pack my books? Everything on the first three shelfs is mine, and my plants, please be careful with them.” You said and they both got to work while you and your sister headed to your room. Trying to make things even faster, you walked to your closet and grabbed your suitcase from the back of the closet and started throwing all your clothes onto the bed.

“This is not yours.” Your sister announced throwing one of Hajime’s shirts you usually wore to sleep on the floor. You stared at it for a second and started to take out all of the shirts that were mixed in with your clothes. You never noticed how many of his shirts were in your drawers, you always wore his shirts to sleep.

‘No more unlimited pajamas.’ You thought and laughed to yourself.

*

“Hey, can you get my stuff from the bathroom? I’m almost done here.” You said placing a few blouses in a laundry basket since your suitcases were already full.

“Sure thing, I’m dipping his toothbrush in the toilet too.” She said and zipped close the duffle bag she packed your shoes in.

“Please don’t.”

“Can’t hear you.” You heard a splash. “Look what we have here, this cologne looks expensive.”

“Stop touching his stuff.”

“No sympathy for him, stop trying to protect him.” She said peeking from the bathroom door.

“I’m not protecting him, I’m just being mature.” You walked to the bathroom, taking the bottle of cologne away from her and placing it back down. “And I paid for this.”

“Hey girls, we are all set over here.” You heard Bokuto from outside of the room.

“You have anything else you need us to get in the car?” Akaashi asked. You looked around searching for something you could be possibly leaving behind. The pictures on the wall captured your attention for a second.

“Don’t think so, everything else he can keep.” You sighed “Besides, the car is already full.”

“Let’s get out of here then, mom is waiting for us and we have a four hour ride ahead of us.” Your sister said and took the duffel bag and one of your indoor plants and made her way out.

“Well, that’s it.” Bokuto said and closed the trunk of your sister’s car.

“Please, tell us if you need anything, we are one call away.” Akaashi reassured placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Thanks ‘Kaashi, I will.” You hugged both of your friends and hopped in the car “I’ll text you once I get home.”

They waved goodbye and waited for the car to be completely out of sight to walk back inside the building.

*

That afternoon after lunch and a long talk with your mom, you decided to stay at your parents house for the meantime and as long as you needed to find another place near your university. You decided not to tell your father, he was just as hot headed as your sister and you were sure he would kill him if he found out.

In the end your sister was right, your mother always knew what to say and this time was no exception, of course she was going to give Iwaizumi’s mom a call (but you don’t know that) but right now she was worried about how awfully calm you were, of course you were always emotionally intelligent, but was it really healthy for you to keep it all inside?

“Listen dear, I know how you must be feeling right now, there’s no need to conceal it, I also know you want to be the bigger person, but you can´t keep it to yourself forever, it’s not good for you.” She’d said as she poured some freshly brewed tea in your cup.

“I know mom, thank you.” You said and she cupped your cheek with her hand.

“It wasn’t your fault, dear.” She Reassured. “It’s getting late, get ready to sleep, I’ll get your room ready.”

It wasn’t your fault. She was right, but why does it feel the other way around?

You stared at the mirror once again and still couldn’t recognize your reflection. ‘What did you do to me, Hajime?’ You thought as you dried your face.

‘Fuck, I had a shift tonight.’ You totally forgot, after all you haven’t checked your phone since earlier that morning. Ignoring all of your friends and Hajime’s texts asking if you were alright and where you were; you texted your boss, he asked if you were fine too since Iwaizumi went to the bar and was apparently really worried, you could only sigh and tell him you would explain everything tomorrow.

You were exhausted. Your eyelids were heavy with sleep and what seemed to be the beginning of a bad migraine. ‘I’ll just sleep it off.’ You thought to yourself, staring at the ceiling thinking about everything and nothing at the same time. You were still going to see Iwaizumi at college at some point, how are you going to tell your friends? You still had to call your landlord to get the money of the months of rent you paid in advance back.

“I wish this was all a dream.” You muttered burying your face on your pillow. Your phone ringing stopped your train of thoughts, the caller ID displayed Iwaizumi’s name for the hundredth time that day. You still had no energy or will to talk to him. ‘What does he want anyway?’ You let the call go straight to voicemail.

“Y/N” He sighs “I’ve been trying to reach you all day, I know it’s late, I know you hate me”

‘I don’t.’

“But please, I need to know you are okay and that you are safe, I know you must be with your sister but I can’t reach her either. Please, you don’t have to tell me, you can tell Matsukawa or Makki, one of your friends, I don’t care, we are all worried about you. I know you came earlier for your stuff, and that you are not coming back, but please, you have to listen to me.” you could tell how anxious he was “I’m not asking for forgiveness, because I know I don’t deserve it. But I… you deserve an explanation and an apology. I love you, please, call me.”

Without even noticing, tears streamed down your face. ‘Maybe I should talk to him’

You weren’t one to be remorseful, and closure was necessary. Maybe. But not today or tomorrow, you still needed time. You texted your friends and told everyone you were okay and that you were spending a few days at your parents place in Miyagi. After turning your phone off you finally managed to sleep.

*

The days after your arrival to Miyagi were no different, you ran some errands with your mom, went out with your dad and sister and enjoyed your time there, you almost forgot you had to get your life back together. You went back to Tokyo after a week, the first thing you did was talk with your boss and apologize for your absence and explained everything. He was kind enough to switch you to the day shift and promised not to tell Iwaizumi about it if he showed again.

The day shift was alright, the bar was less crowded but still busy. Some people had lunch or shared a drink with their co-workers. Breathing was easier and you felt more at ease working earlier.

“Good evening, what can I get you?” You greeted with a smile as you cleaned the counter.

“Hi, Y/N, right?” She asked.

“That’s me. Do we know each other?” You asked, she seemed familiar but you couldn’t recall where or when you’ve seen her before.

“Something like that, I’m Ito Asui, I’m one of Iwaizumi’s classmates.” She explained.

“Oh.” It’s all you managed to say “You want anything to drink.?” You asked, trying to ease the tension between the two of you.

“Not really, I just needed to talk to you about… the other night.” Asui couldn’t bring herself to look at you in the eye.

“It was you?”

She sighed “Yeah. And I feel awful. I didn’t know he had a girlfriend.”

“How long?” you asked, trying to hold your tears busying yourself with the register.

“A month, maybe, listen he never mentioned he had a girlfriend or anything. We teamed up for our final project with some friends and we flirted for a while and we started going out when we weren’t working on the project.” She started crying, it was obvious that the guilt was eating her alive, you felt bad for her “If I only knew he was taken, this could’ve never happened, it is my fault and I want to apologize.”

“No.” You lowered your head.

“What?”

“It’s not your fault Asui, stop blaming yourself. You didn’t know. I’m sorry you got involved in this mess and for how you must be feeling right now.” you irradiated anger with every word. All the sympathy you felt for Iwaizumi was now gone and the thought of even facing him too.

“Thank you for this, really.” you raised your chin and looked at her in the eye, hers were glossy with tears and guilt, but she managed to show you a weak smile.

“What are you going to do now?” She asked as you poured a glass of water for her.

“I don’t know. Not going back to him, that’s for sure.” You tried to laugh. “I’m probably going to leave.”

“Leave? You are transferring?”

“Yeah.” You sighed unsure of your answer.

“Where to? I heard your parents live in the countryside.” She sipped her water.

“Not sure yet, I have some offers to go abroad.” You cleaned the counter once again as some customers walked in, you greeted them and got ready to fix their drinks.

“That 's amazing! I think it would be best for you to take some time away from here. If you stay you are going to stumble upon him at school.” she said as she played with the rim of her cup and you poured ice inside the shaker.

“Yeah, you are right. I’m talking to my professors and seeing my options, probably choosing somewhere in Europe, I’ve always wanted to travel.” You smiled.

Eventually Asui left, there was nothing else to talk about but you agreed to keep in touch, after all she was the first person outside your family that knew about your plans. It was sad, actually, you weren’t excited to leave since you were doing it to run away from him. It was your senior year, you wanted to spend it with your friends and stay in Tokyo, you were happy here, but you also needed to get away, you couldn’t bare with seeing Iwaizumi everyday, not only at school, you had a lot of friends in common and you didn’t wanted to make everything awkward for them.

‘I’m going to build myself back on my own.’ And if you had to leave to do so, then you were more than ready.

*

Days went by and summer break was over, it was time to go. Akaashi and Bokuto dropped you off at the airport and waited for you to board the plane.

“Passport?” Akaashi asked making sure you were all set.

“Here.” You lifted your right hand and showed your passport.

“Phone?”

“In my bag.” You smiled at him.

“Well, you are good to go.” He smiled back.

“Wait, you forgot something.” Bokuto took a step closer and looked at you.

“What? Oh my god did I left my glasses at home?” You asked confused as you patted across your body looking for them. 

“No, silly, my hug!” He laughed at your confused expression and embraced you. 

After that bone crushing hug Bokuto made you promise to text him everyday even if it was late, and Akaashi nearly cried but he won’t admit it. You waved goodbye one last time before boarding.

Hopefully you could find yourself again in London. ‘This is your new beginning’ you repeated to yourself as you took your seat on the plane.

“Good bye.” You whispered.

*

Later that night, Iwaizumi found himself in front of your sister´s apartment, ringing the bell he stepped back and waited for her to open — or a fist on the nose — after a few seconds the door opened revealing your sister still on her work clothes, leaning on the door frame.

“What do you want?” she asked harshly.

“Is she here? She never really called me and it’s been almost two months, I just want to talk to her but she blocked my number.” He looked at the floor and your sister sighed.

“She is not here.”

“Do you know where she is? she moved to the dorms?” he tripped over his words trying to get an answer.

“She is gone, Iwaizumi.”

“What do you mean? Look I know she hates me but this is not funny.” He was growing anxious.

“Shut up, she doesn’t hate you, you know that’s just not her, and I’m not joking. She left.” Your sister explained one more time.

“Where?” He ran his hand through his hair.

“Not telling. Good night, Iwaizumi.” With that she closed the door leaving Hajime dumbfounded.

‘She left?’ He thought, realization hitting him even harder, he lost you forever, and he is probably never going to see you again.

He was on his own now.

(a/n: hi everyone! first of all THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR ALL THE SUPPORT! <3 i honestly thought i was going to flop with this fic, but all of your comments and feedback encourage me to keep writing, you are all so sweet :( thank you again ilysm. i also want to thank my beta readers once again fore dealing with my illiterate and annoying self. next chapter is going to be a bit longer if everything goes as planned, sorry for making you all hate iwa :( 

also, if anyone is interested to be added to a taglist please tell me! you can comment or send me a message if my ask box is not showing :( i’m still figuring things out here since i was a wattpad type of girl but i’ll try my best <3)

masterlist

taglist: @aonenthusiast