#I can hardly pull myself out of bed and do schoolwork.

[sonic-wildfire]

.

[kuroos-moon]

We All Have Bad Days

- in which they feel down, ft. how they act around you 

pairings: Suna x reader, Akaashi x reader, Tendou x reader

warning/s: mild angst 

wc: 2.4 k overall

Suna 

he’s not really that open towards you— not that it’s intentional 

he just doesn’t see the need to communicate certain things

other than that, he doesn’t even admit to himself that he’s not okay 

you could easily tell, but he’ll brush you off every time you show concern 

he’s okay, stop worrying. stop looking at him like he’s fragile. 

���Rin, you could talk to me about anything you know?” 

he was just resting his head on your shoulder in peace

so why in the world do you have to complicate things 

he’s annoyed, you always try to comfort him, he doesn’t need it

“What are you so worried about?” He glares quite coldly, leaning away to look at you. “I said I’m fine, you act like you know me better than I do myself,” he casually says as if those weren’t hurtful words. 

“I’m not forcing you to open up to me, I just want you to know I’m here for you,” you say with teary eyes as he gets up from his seat beside you. “I’ll head to practice, see you later,” he says in a dull voice, not looking back at you as he leaves. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He sat on the empty locker room’s cold floor, practice was long over but he just didn’t want to get up yet. He’s tired, he feels so drained and maybe it wasn’t because of practice, maybe he really isn’t okay— just like you said. 

The image of you pops in his mind; particularly the moment earlier before practice, you were clearly hurt by what he said— he knew that. Regret washes over him as he leans his head against the locker behind him, you were right, he wasn’t fine.

He doesn’t know how you managed to see past his facade, but you did, he should be grateful— a normal boyfriend would be— yet he pushed you away when you only wanted to console him. I’ll apologize tomorrow, he thinks to himself, but yet again he felt conflicted because he also wanted to see you now. 

“Are you gonna stay in here all night?” He looks up at the sound of your voice. “Y/n,” he says, surprised at your sudden intrusion. 

“I was waiting for you outside but you were taking too long,” you smile, squatting down on the floor beside him. “I didn’t know,” he whispers. 

Heat flushes your cheeks when you feel a warm jacket getting draped over your shoulders so suddenly, “you were cold, right?” He asks, looking at your flustered expression for a while before he looks away. “Thanks.” He only nods in response. 

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes, your shoulders touching. “You just want me to know you’re here huh,” he whispers to himself, quoting your words from earlier. 

“What?” You ask, not having heard him well. He shakes his head, getting up from the floor before he holds out his hand for you. “You’re ready to go home?” You ask, taking his hand as you lift yourself up. 

He gently spins you around so your back was to him, his hands on either side of your waist. “Rin?” For the second time that night, you blush tremendously. He had wrapped you in his arms in a tight embrace, your back against his chest. 

He rests his chin on your shoulder, letting out a breath as you both relax against each other’s closeness. “I’m not good at telling others how I feel,” he whispers. “I’m not used to having someone worry about me either,” he plants a soft kiss of appreciation on your neck. 

“It’s okay Rin.” 

“You’re so warm,” he sighs, snuggling against you. “Cheer me up like this often.”

“Let me go,” you tug at his arms, “I wanna hug you too you know,” you huff.

“No,” you feel him slightly smile against your skin.

You forcibly turn to face him, his arms still around your waist as he looks at you questioningly. “You can be sad in front of me you know,” you tell him and his eyes slightly widen at your words. 

“I can’t.” He deadpans, and you were left speechless, feeling as if he was too far away from you, maybe he’ll never open up. 

He shifts his focus to the maroon Inarizaki jacket wrapped around you, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall off. To your surprise, he gently pulls you by the jacket’s collar as he meets your lips with his. The kiss was sweet but short, he hoped to have expressed at least a fraction of what he felt for you.

“I can’t be sad in front of you, you make me not sad,” he mutters, slightly embarrassed to have said such a cheesy thing so he looks away with a small frown.

“Aren’t you sweet,” you tease, to which he rolls his eyes to in response. His hand glides down from your arm and to your hand, intertwining your fingers together before you both make your way to the door.

You yelp when he harshly kicks it open, followed by a series of groans as the Miya twins found themselves landed on the ground. “Rin!” you scold, slapping his arm lightly but he merely gives your hand a squeeze in apology before tugging you along with him.

“Lame eavesdroppers,” he mutters under his breath.

“Wow, an apology would be nice!” Atsumu huffs, glaring at the back of Suna’s head as the both of you walked away. 

“Wanna eat something first before I take you home?” He asks you with a small smile, looking down at you lovingly, and completely disregarding the curses the twins threw at him. 

Akaashi

first instinct is to rely on himself alone

he knows he could talk to you about anything but he doesn’t want to be a burden, even though he’s totally not 

is very good at pretending that everything’s alright 

you can hardly figure it out yourself if he doesn’t tell you 

but, he has a tell 

his hugs would be longer, he would be more silent than usual, and he would be so deep in thought you’d have to call his name twice 

“I’ll be back by dinner,” he says to your ear. You were sitting down on the couch, laptop on your lap while Keiji leant down to kiss your cheek. 

“What shall I cook?” You ask, looking up at him with a small smile. He looked and acted per usual, he seemed fine, but what gave it away was how he clung to you differently last night; it was more desperate as if he tried to console his own aches by having you as close to him as possible. 

The raven-haired lad looks back at you in surprise, hand stopping mid-way from the doorknob. “You will cook?” He raises a brow. 

“Have a little faith in me Keiji,” you pout at him before he gives you a small smile, putting his hand down before turning and making his way in front of you. “What do you wanna have for dinner? I’ll cook it when I get home,” he says, ruffling your hair a bit.

“I said I wanna cook for you,” you grab his hand. Let me do something for you, Keiji. 

“Why? Well if you say so I guess pasta would be nice,” he shrugs at you. “It’s not your favorite food, it’s mine,” you grimace, staring at his back as he makes his way back to the door; why is he all give with no take? 

“Don’t burn our house down love,” he calls off with light amusement in his voice before closing the door behind him. He proceeds to walk towards school, heart heavy in his chest though he can’t help but put on a small smile. 

You were too adorable, offering to cook dinner for him even though he knew you couldn’t cook to save your own life. You were just so naturally caring, by the slightest look, touch, or mention of his name, you gave him utter solace. 

That was enough, right? He didn’t have to tell you what was bothering him, everything will be okay eventually. You had your own struggles, why should he have you worry about him? 

“Ugh we have tons of homework today,” similar complaints and groans could be heard as he walked out of the lecture room, in a hurry to come home to you. “But dude, we’re lucky we aren’t from the other class, they have thrice the amount of work.”

Right. You had tons of schoolwork and deadlines, you shouldn’t waste time cooking dinner for him. 

Before he even opens the door to your house he could already hear your kitchen struggle. He should have refused your offer, what a burden I must be, he thought. “Y/n?” He immediately calls out for you as he sets foot in your home. 

“Over here, ah,” you yelp, probably having touched something hot by accident. He rushes over to the kitchen, a frown plastered in his face as he took in the sight of you tightly gripping your hand, the messy pans and plates on the side from your failed attempts, and the slight tears that rolled down your cheeks at the pain from your mild burn. 

He calmly guides your hand to the sink without saying a word, cursing himself for allowing you to make dinner for him. Your hand was placed under the running water as he scans his eyes on you to check if you were hurt elsewhere. “Hey, does it hurt that bad?” He asks you with worry as he saw you cry, his hands immediately planted on either side of your face to have you look at him. 

You shake your head at him, and he merely sighs as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been the one to cook, don’t cry,” he coos, his face crumpling up in guilt and concern as a chain of self-blaming thoughts mess with his mind. 

“Keiji, I’m not crying because of that,” you sniffle, taking his hands away from your face before pulling him in a tight embrace, your hand at the back of his head. “Y/n what’s wrong?” He asks in a small voice as he wraps his arms around your waist as tight. 

“I wanted to do something for you, to make you feel better because you’re not telling me what’s wrong.” He freezes at your words, “but now it’s a mess and you’re comforting me instead,” you sniffle again before he resumes on gently rubbing your back. 

“Can I take you to the bedroom?” He asks you, before letting out a small chuckle at your confused reaction. “Not for that, silly,” he shakes his head, lifting you up by your waist as you wrap your legs around him.

He gently lays you down on top of the bed before he lies down on top of you as well, letting out a long exhale. “Keiji, what’s wrong?” You ask him, running your hand through his hair as he buries his face at the crook of your neck. “Nothing y/n, I’m fine,” he snuggles closer to you. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you, you were just so busy and I didn’t want to burden you with me,” he admits. “Keiji, you’re never a burden, I love you a lot, you know that; and you also know how I’d love for you to share your troubles with me instead of carrying them all alone,” you softly tell him. 

“I know,” he sighs. “I guess I forgot, but you still comforted me in ways you didn’t know y/n,” he pulls away to look at you. “You simply exist beside me and I forget I’m sad in the first place,” his lips lightly brushing against yours as he spoke. 

You only give him a small smile, staring back at his eyes before meeting his lips with yours. “C’mon, help me cook,” he offers you a rare grin as starts to lift himself up. 

“I think it’d be better if I didn’t,” you frown and he ruffles your hair again; a habit he developed when he found you too cute to bear. “I know, just hug me as I do the work.” 

Tendou

tries to act too happy when he’s down in the dumps

he goes overly cheerful and jokes around more often

it’s impossible to figure out whether he’s just extremely overjoyed or if he’s sad, he’ll act all the same

because once he’s down, he secretly feels like he’s losing a grip on everything and everyone he cares about

the matter may be unrelated but his past insecurities resurface so easily 

that’s exactly why he unconsciously tries to be around you at all times, because he needs to reassure himself that your love won’t fade

“Y/n-chaan~!” He calls enthusiastically, dodging his way through the crowd of students as he makes his way over to you. “I don’t have practice, let’s go on a date,” he smiles, leaning on the locker beside you as you tidied up yours.

“Satori kiss my cheek first before asking me out,” you grin as you spare him a side glance, his eyes lighting up at your words just as you intended. He happily does as you say, overdoing it in fact as he kisses you repeatedly. 

“Satorii,” you whine, shoving at his chest lightly. “Soo, where shall I take my y/n today?” He smiles, looking at you expectantly after you close your locker door to look back at him. 

“You’re overdoing our dates, don’t you think? We’ve went out for four times this week, you also don’t let me pay for us,” you pinch his cheek, but guilt bubbles within you immediately as he looks at you in dismay. “How about we eat ice cream and go to the park instead? That’s still a date,” you offer, holding his hand. 

“Chocolate for you?” He asks, his eyes brimming with excitement all over again and you nod at him, a small smile on your lips. You didn’t need to say anything more as you both make your way out of school with his arm slung around your shoulder, Tendou happily singing random songs and stopping for you to continue. 

“How much do you love me y/n?” He casually asks out of the blue, and you immediately plant your feet on the ground to stop the swaying of your swing. “Tori, what do you mean?” You ask, you know him well; the way he acted these past few days were different from usual but you just couldn’t tell if he was actually happy or secretly sad.            

“What do you think it means?” He shrugs, mirroring your actions as he too stops the swing’s momentum. He looks at you in confusion, why can’t you just answer him right away? Are you perhaps hesitant and unsure about him? 

But you were actually silent because you were trying to figure him out; whether or not there was a certain depth to his question. “How much do you love me?” He asks again, still not looking away from you. “A lot,” you decide to say, “I love you more than you know Satori.” 

He purses his lips and squints his eyes at you before getting up from his swing. Crouching down in front of you, he asks, “to what extent will you continue to love me?” You simply sit there, staring down to look back at your boyfriend. 

“I don’t think I quite get your question Tori,” you offer him a sad smile, cupping his cheek with your hand. He hums to himself as he leans in to your touch, “what if you love me now, then get to know me more in the future— finding out certain traits or things about me that you can’t accept or learn to love, will you stop loving me then?” He murmurs, a small sad smile on his lips. 

You knew right then and there that his insecurities must have been keeping him up at night again, and you feel your heart clench at the thought. He can’t help but feel this way sometimes, you understood that, it was a product of being rejected by others so often when he was young. 

“Satori, I love you now, I’ll love you more tomorrow, and the days after that,” you caress his cheek and his eyes widen and he falls speechless. He could feel his breath hitch and his chest hurt, the good kind of hurt. You chased away his doubts, his worries, all you left him was the feeling of being loved. 

Just by your words. He nods, getting up before holding out his hand. “Let’s go home,” he says. The two of you walk down the sidewalk, Tendou happily singing his songs, he doesn’t even bother to stop between certain lines as you now sang along with him. 

You may not know it completely and he may not have told you, but you just made him feel a whole lot better. 

[realcube]

nurse’s office || tobio kageyama x reader

summary: you visit your boyfriend - tobio kageyama - in the nurse’s office after hinata spiked a ball directly at his face

tw// blood, swearing, mentions of violence 

You rushed down the hallway, jacket half on and half waving around as a cape behind you while still stuffing your supplies from the previous class into your handbag as you ran. 

Yes, ran. One of the hall monitors tried to get you to slow down by shoving their arm out in front of your path but you simply swerved them; nothing was going to stop you from getting to your stupid blueberry boyfriend. 

Also, the fact that you were mad too made your expression ten times more threatening and dark so if the hall monitor did somehow get you stop, he would’ve immediately regretted it.  

Your all-around aggressive demeanour was probably the reason that girls like Yachi were simping for you and boys like Hinata shat their pants whenever you were in a 10 foot radius of them. And due to your need to constantly make snarky remarks - yet the paired with the inability to receive them without getting your feelings hurt - it was almost inevitable that you’d end up with someone like Kageyama.

Eventually, you reached the door of the nurse office; a place that was all too familiar as you’d sit in there for hours holding and icepack to your bloody nose or your black eye after getting in another fight with some braindead scum who tried to two-time one of your friends - which was a shamefully often occurrence. 

You chapped on the door; not something you’d usually do but you’d rather knock than walk in during his check-up. “Bakeyama..” You grumbled, pulling out a pocket mirror from your purse to check if you had ruined your lipgloss - which you hadn’t. “Can I come in?”

It took a moment but then you were finally greeted by the angelic noise of Kageyama groaning from the other side of the door, “Eh, no. Go away.” 

You giggled, a sweet smile graced your perfectly glossed lips as you shoved your pocket mirror away, pushing the door open as you sung in your best ‘lovely girlfriend’ voice, “I’m coming in, baby.” Which resulted in you immediately being met by Kageyama roaring, “Boke! I said go away!”

You rolled your eyes, slipping through the doorway and promptly closing it behind you, your expression immediately dropping into a frown as you realised Kageyama was in a situation you were quite familiar with. He was sitting on the ‘bed’ - which was in fact a regular duo school desk with a duvet and pillow on it - with tissues sticking out from his bleeding nostrils. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, king - it’s not like you haven’t seen mine like..a hundred times.” 

Kageyama didn’t understand most things but your statement especially perplexed him, “Seen what a hundred times? Your panties?” That was the most obvious conclusion he could come to but if that was what you meant - as much as he wished it was - it wouldn’t be true. 

His question precipitated a burst of heat to erupt on the tips of your ears, slowly flowing from there to cover your cheeks, leading to you hiding your face with your hands in embarrassment, “Stupid! No! I meant my bloody nose!” 

Kageyama nodded, unable to stifle a laugh at how cute you looked while flustered, “Ah, okay.” He hummed, trying to admire your blushing face but your hands shielding his view made it a challenge. “I like your nails.”

You paused, removing your hands from your face and turned them around to look at your plain, unmanicured nails. You shot your boyfriend a puzzled look, “Huh? But they’re not even done.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Kageyama sighed, mindlessly cracking his knuckles. “I just wanted you to move your hands so I could see your face.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows, about to give him a scolding for not applying those sort of problem solving skills to his schoolwork but he began speaking again before you even got the chance to open your mouth, “How did you even know I was here?”

You hummed in thought before pulling out your phone, inputting your PIN then opening IMessage to show Kageyama the texts that Hinata sent you.

You impatiently rolled your eyes as Illiteracyama took what felt like a millennium to read those two messages, “I figured you were in the nurse’s office because the tangerine wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise.” 

Kageyama nodded, finally averting his gaze from the phone as an indication that he had finally finished reading the messages, “Yeah, okay. You should respond though, he’s probably shitting himself right now thinking that you’re going to beat him up or something.”

“Why would he think I’d do that?” You innocently inquired, checking you lip-gloss in your front camera again - it was basically second nature at this point. 

“I don’t know. He’s just a pussy, I guess. The rest of the team aren’t intimidated by you at all.” Kageyama mused, recalling how fond most of the team were of you when you first met them at a match.

You simply shrugged, closing your camera and opening IMessage back up, typing the most reassuring response you could think of. It was a struggle because everything you said could’ve came off as threatening depending on how he interpreted it but you ultimately settled with:

After you placed your phone back into your into your purse, you turned your attention back to Mr bloody nose sat in front of you. After a moment of exchanging an intense gaze with him, you burst out laughing, causing Kageyama to quirk up an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

You tossed your head back in bliss, wiping tears of joy away from your eyes, “You look so cute with the tissues- and the nose-” You were hardly able to  form a whole, cohesive sentence through your wheezes.

Your choice of words being ‘cute’ to describe him set his cheeks aflame, “I-jus-you-” he stammered, not sure how exactly to respond, thus he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Fuck off.”

You paid no attention to his comment and eventually you cackles died down to nothing but light pants accompanied by a gleeful smile. “Yeah,” You breathed, glancing at the time displayed on the clock by the door, “I should probably get going - unless you’d miss me to much.” You cooed, pulling out your pocket mirror again to make sure your tears didn’t ruin your lashes. 

“You wish.” Kageyama smirked, always having felt respect for how much effort and dedication you put into your makeup and image - it kinda made him want to care about his appearance more but then again, why would he want to put in the extra time in the morning to spike his hair rather than doing something more productive like.. practising sets?

“How long until you’re allowed to leave? Did the nurse tell you?” You inquired out of curiosity, slipping on the other sleeve of your jacket which had apparently been hanging off this whole time.

Kageyama subconsciously extended his arm out intertwine his fingers with yours as he wracked his brain for the answer, “I think she said I can go home when a family member comes to pick me up - which is stupid because I am literally fine to walk home myself but she said it had to do with protocol and stuff.” He trailed off closer to the end of his sentence, his hoarse voice lowering drastically. 

“Yeah.” You mused, rubbing your thumb across the back of his hand as you glanced around the room in search of anything you might’ve accidentally dropped but the coast seemed clear. “Anyway, um, bye!” You chirped, leaning in to peck him on the lips as you’d usually do but they were currently covered the long pieces of tissue hanging out his nose. So, instead you craned your neck upwards to plant a kiss on his forehead before letting go of his hand, turning on your heels and heading out.

“Bye.” Kageyama grumbled in response. 

You gently closed the door behind you and strolled over to the gates of the school at your own pace, you took a longer route though so you didn’t have to pass the hall monitor you veered around on your way to the nurse’s office.

Upon arriving at the gates of the school to start your journey home, you felt your purse vibrate so you pulled out your phone, examining the lockscreen for the notification. It was a text from Kageyama. Of course that piqued your interest so you opened it immediately, the text in question causing a light blush to cross your features.

You smiled; everything about this was just hilarious to you.

Firstly, of course Kageyama’s first time saying ‘I love you’ was going to be over text. And you couldn’t blame him either, it’s an intimidating thing to say aloud so you were just glad he had the balls to say it over IMessage.

Secondly, you were very proud of Illiteracyama for being able to spell such a hard set of words in so little time as it had only been around 4 minutes since you left the nurse’s office - this must be a new personal record for him. 

And last but not least, the cherry on top, it was followed by this extremely charming and persuasive message. 

You burst out laughing on the spot and luckily there was nobody around to judge you. Oh, the joy Kageyama would make you feel after saying the most simple things - it was almost like his superpower; besides his killer sets.

Wiping another tear from your eye, you typed your response with weak fingers. 

[write-orflight]

Like Real People Do. Chapter 4

*Gif not mine*

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Rating: M, eventually will be smut.

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Sexual themes, talk about sex (not NSFW though), fainting, reader just being thirsty in general. 

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

A.N We’re getting into the main crux of the story now! Message to be added to the taglist. thanks for reading! Much love, Cia

                Chapter 4: Why were you digging?  

Months pass and the early spring turns into hot humid D.C summer. You were never a big fan of the summer, you preferred the colder months despite the bad memories you had associated with them. 

Things changed and some things stayed the exact same. You caught bad guys, which was typical, you actually ended up getting tackled by a drunk Unsub once which results in you being out of the field with a broken arm for four weeks. You found a cat in an alley digging through the trash near your apartment one day when you were walking home. You left food out for him since until one day he decided to come up to you. And now you have a cat you affectionately named Garbage. 

You and Ethan (the guy from the bar) had a “situation-ship”, as Garcia liked to call it for about a month and a half. In your opinion, there was no situation-ship, you guys had mediocre sex until he wanted more and was upset you “worked too much”. So when he “broke up” with you, you weren’t really upset. Your heart wasn’t in it anyway. 

You and Spencer never talked about that night at the bar. In fact, you hardly talked at all. Your Saturday’s together stopped, you had no excuse to see each other now you were finished with school. Now that there was no thesis, there was no thesis for him to help with. 

That didn’t stop Spencer from occupying the space in your head rent-free though. You couldn’t help yourself, he was always in the forefront of your mind and frankly it was starting to affect how you worked. It was a paperwork day and everyone was working silently, merely coexisting and since there was nothing really going on your mind couldn’t help but wander. Spencer was sitting across you reading case files, taking occasional notes in a legal pad next to him. Your eyes instantly went to his hands as he traced it down the page as he often did when he was reading. You studied them for a while, long slender fingers resting on massive palms. You never thought you were someone who’d be attracted to hands but the amount of times you thought about them on particularly lonely nights, specifically the things he could do with them. 

Yea, it was enough to make you a cheirophile. 

You went back to watching him when suddenly one of the aforementioned hands were waving in your face. 

“Y/N” he said. “I’ve been calling your name for 3 minutes.” 

“I’m sorry, Spen.” You flush instantly at being caught. “What did you need?” 

“I asked if you had a red pen I could borrow?” 

“Yea.” You rummaged through your drawer, producing the pen in question. His hand brushes yours as he grabs it, you try very hard not to shiver at the contact but you couldn’t help it. “Keep it.” you say. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He says. “You’ve been extremely out of it lately.”

He was right, you have been out of it lately. Spencer was putting you out of it. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that night at the bar and your almost kiss. Since then, it was like he was trying to constantly bring your attention to his mouth, whether it was by his habit of stealing lollies from Garcia’s office or the constant biting and licking of his lips whenever he was deep in thought. They had seared their way into your frontal lobe without permission. 

Working with him had become exceptionally hard and an unwelcome distraction, especially out in the field. Last month, the two of you had gone undercover in a nightclub, an unsub had been murdering young couples who were overly affectionate in public, so you had to spend the night practically wrapped around the man you had an insane crush on, breathing in his scent. You sipped your “cocktail” (it was just cranberry juice) as Spencer kept his arm steady around your waist. Eventually, you hear Emily in the earpiece you were wearing. 

“You’ve gotta do more guys if we’re going to draw him out.” She says. 

“Yea and loosen up. If  you guys look uncomfortable, no ones going to believe you’re a couple.” Morgan adds. 

You and Spencer look at each other for a beat.  

“If I do something that makes you uncomfortable, you’ll tell me right?” He whispers to you. You nod instantly. Suddenly Spencer’s arm is tighter around you, pulling you flush to his body. He dips down attaching his lips to your neck and jawline. You gasp, you had not been expecting that at all, you clutch your drink harder other hand moving to his side. He pulls you in tighter somehow, suddenly you feel his hand move downward until he is palming your ass, you bite your lip to keep your composure but his lips suddenly meet that spot behind your earlobe that he couldn’t have possibly known about prior. A quiet moan unintentionally rips through you and you could’ve sworn you felt his fingers twitch, squeezing your ass slightly. Emily and Morgan were right, the Unsub did approach you guys shortly after that and led you into the alley like he did so many couples before only to be met by your badges and guns. 

Then there was the time a couple of months ago when you and Reid had gone to interview a child psychiatrist and discovered that he was a molester. Spencer had been livid talking to the man, making threats that honestly should've been promises to throw the man in jail. You had never seen Spencer angry or at the very least this angry, and for some reason that turned you on beyond belief. 

You decided to close that can of worms and save it for another day. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” You say, smiling tightly at him turning back to your stack of files. You couldn’t be mad at Spencer for your inability to keep it in your pants while you were working. So that’s what you did, worked and tried to avoid Spencer as much as you could. And if that night from the club replayed in your head often while you were alone in your bed that night like many nights before, it was no one’s business but your own. 

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

In the morning, you woke to the sound of construction equipment being used next to your apartment. D.C’s already so dense. What more could they be building?   You thought as you got up to make yourself a much needed cup of coffee. 

Now without your schoolwork or  standing date with Spencer, Saturdays always felt too long. You drank your coffee, read a book, watched some TV and when you looked at the time it was still only noon. You sighed heavily before getting up to get changed. The weather was nice, you hoped a jog would at the very least tire you out so you could waste a couple hours napping. 

So off you went, down the path of a nearby park. You had been jogging for about 30 minutes when you see a familiar shape in the distance. As you get closer you notice it’s exactly who you wanted it to be. 

“Hey, Spen!” You say excitedly as you slow to a stop in front of him. He looks up from the book he was reading on the bench. He smiles once he sees you. “Y/N, Hey.” He says. 

“What’re you doing in the park alone?” You ask. 

He lifts up his book. “I just came to read, thought a change of scenery would do me better than sitting around my apartment.” He says 

“Same here. Now that I finished school, it feels like I have too much time in the day. Now it just feels like I’m doing stuff just to keep myself busy, hence the jogging.” You say lifting your leg slightly, pointing out the running shoes you were wearing. You felt his eyes slowly trail up your bare legs, taking in your form slowly and diligently as if he thought he would forget it all the second he blinked. His eyes finally stopped at yours and you released the breath you didn’t know you holding. 

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your book. I’ve still got 2 miles to go.” You say, as you start to jog away, you hear Spencer call out to you. You stop and turn back. “Yea?” you ask. 

“Umm…” He says trailing off before taking a breath. “I’m going to see a movie later, I was hoping maybe you’d wanna come? It’s in french, but I can whisper-translate for you.” He says. 

“Yea sure, I’m doing anything else.” You say, a little too excitedly. Calm down, Y/N, he didn’t even say it was a date. You think to yourself. “What time should I meet you there?” 

“7?” He says. 

“Great! See you at 7, Reid!” You say before jogging away. 

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

You leave your house around 6:45, after spending about an hour and a half trying to find something to wear. Since it wasn’t a date, or since he didn't say it was one, you opted for something casual. A pair of comfortable jean shorts and your favorite band’s t-shirt. You did light makeup, and after an inspection in the mirror you decided you looked the right amount of cute and comfortable. 

Spencer was waiting outside the theater when you arrived. He was dressed casually too, a blazer over a simple t-shirt, cuffed jeans and converse. He smiles brightly at you as you walk up to join him. 

He insists on paying for the movie and you have to fight him to get him to let you at least pay for snacks but soon you are seated in the almost empty theater together. 

He moves close to you as the movie starts, whispering translations in your ear. At some point halfway through the movie, his arm ends up around your back as he continues to translate, your hand falls instinctively to his thigh. 

The movie ends eventually, and the two of you begin to walk outside together. You know a really good ice cream place that’s not a far walk from the theatre so you suggest going Spencer instantly says yes. You guys walk in silence for a while before you open your mouth to say something. 

“Can I confess something to you?” You ask him. 

He turns and looks at you. “Yea, what is it?” 

“Je parle quatre langues, dont une est le français.” (I speak four languages, one of which is french.) You say. 

He looks at you incredulously. “Pourquoi m'avez-vous laissé traduire le film entier pour vous?” (Why did you let me translate the entire movie for you?) He asks 

“Tu veux dire, pourquoi t'ai-je laissé chuchoter à mon oreille pendant deux heures d'affilée?” (You mean, Why did I let you whisper in my ear for two hours straight?) You smile flirtatiously at him. “Je suis sûr que tu peux comprendre celui-là.” (I'm sure you can figure that one out) You nudge him with your arm. “Come on, I believe you owe me ice cream.” 

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

You and Spencer, deciding you don’t want the night to end just yet,  take your ice cream and walk to a park. You lick lazily at the cone you opted for opposed to the cup he got. You guys seem to try and catch up on everything the two of you had done since your last coffee shop visit. He tells you about the books and Doctor’s journals he’s read. You explain to him the entire plot of the latest season of Drag race. You talk and talk and talk, to the point you don’t even realize it’s getting late. 

“It’s late.” he says, “We should head back.” 

And so you do, the two of you walk back to your cars parked near the movie theatre in semi-silence. As the two of you approach your driver door, you turn to look at each other. 

“This was fun, to hang out, I mean.” You say. 

“Yea, it was.” He adds. “I’d like to do it more, if you don’t mind.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’d love that.” you say. 

He takes a step closer to you and you do the same. This was it, he was finally going to kiss you. He looks down at your lips and up to your eyes again as if searching for the approval you give a quick tiny nod. He smiles, moving a hand to the side of your head leaning into you--

Your phone rings. He takes a step back. 

Moment ruined.   

You look at your caller ID. “It’s Hotch.” you say, he nods at you while you answer the phone “Y/L/N” you say. 

“Y/N/N, you need to meet me at the office. Right now.” He says. 

“Why sir? Is there a case?” You ask. 

“No case.” He says. “Gabriel Ferguson’s date has been set.” 

That name. 

You tried everyday to forget that name. 

The name of the man who took your family. 

Your innocence. 

Your way of life. 

Gabriel Ferguson. 

The Beechwood Killer. 

You freeze. Spencer is watching you, concerned now. “W-Why do you need me to come in for that?” You stutter. 

“Because… he’s refusing to tell us where he dumped the first bodies.” Hotch pauses. “Until he speaks to you.” 

You drop your phone. 

The last thing you hear is Spencer calling out to you while everything fades to black.

Taglist: @haylaansmi​     @yoruebeautiful​ @kianagilder-blog​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @bihoeofmanyfandoms @dreamer7black​ @baby-banana​ @drreidshands​ @blameitonthenight21​ @slyskyeey​ @liaabsurd​ @di-essere-amato​

[marvelouss-marvel]

Feelings | T.H.

Summary: Tom and Melina have feelings for one another but are lost in expressing this through words. Do actions actually speak louder than words?

Pairing: Tom Holland x OC (who’s black, so you’re welcome ladies)

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: I meant to finish this yesterday but got tied up yesterday with schoolwork. So, I apologize. This is a contribution to the Quarantine Writing Challenge created by @chaneajoyyy​ and @shaekingshitup. Thank you for adding me to my very first writing challenge. Also, I recommend you listen to “Feelings” by Lauv; it’s a masterpiece and the inspiration for this fic.

Is my love too much? Or is it just enough for you, for you? 'Cause it's getting late, would you like to stay? Ah 'Cause I'm bad at reading signs

All evening, Tom had been sneaking glances Melina. The tempered glass on her prevented him from viewing her observations but he knew it had to be either Tumblr or Twitter; both platforms had a tendency of stretching her lips to form that soft smile of hers he’d grown to adore over the last few months. On top of that, she would hold her phone up to his face once in a while to grant Tom the chance of witnessing what made her snort.

Although secretly watching her was simple, Tom found it difficult to prevent his thoughts from skedaddling all over the place like ants running from human feet. He was attempting to gather the courage in revealing his true feelings to her but a second of his mouth opening effected the various “what if” scenarios he created.

His ringtone for Harrison went off, pulling the two best friends out of their silent world. Tom reached for his phone on the small coffee table but paused his actions once he noticed the time. “Uh, Mel?”

“Hmm…?” she hummed. She was quick to retreat back into her personal bubble.

“You do realize it’s 2 in the morning, right?” Tom continued.

“W—” Melina paused her video on Twitter to pull the control center down on her phone. “Crap! I gotta go!” She stood from the couch to begin gathering her scattered belongings.

She was right that she needed to leave… but Tom didn’t want that. Sure, they hardly spoke to one another for the rest of the night after watching the 2-hour long Netflix film but he wanted her company a bit longer. In addition to that, it was too early in the morning for him to be questioning her whereabouts.

A lightbulb went off in his head but it was the idea itself that rapidly pumped the blood to his heart. “You know… you can stay the night?”

Melina scoffed. “Tom, no. We’re not having this discussion.”

“Um, yeah we are. It’s late Mel. And I don’t want you out.”

“I know how you feel, dad, but I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.” She slightly rotated her head to wink his way. The irony of her statement was that she was petite for her age. Most of their friends were five-foot-five and above while Melina was often mistaken for an elementary student trying to fit in with the “big kids.”

Tom shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him. “Melina, no. Stay the night.”

“And miss the comfort of my bed? I don’t think so but thank you for the offer Tommy.”

Before Tom knew it, he was taking long strides to the front door and snatching her leather coat off the coat rack before her arm could reach out. Melina only raised one of her perfectly shaped brows she managed to do on her own in response.

“Okay?” she voiced. “What’re you doing?”

In that moment, Tom realized how much of a freak he perceived himself to be. He resembled a robot by shoving the item in her direction for her to take. “Um, I think it’s too late. And, I was wondering if you wanted to stay the night? It’s just I worry about you as your friend this time of the day.”

It took her a moment to respond but once she finally gave him his answer, he subtly released a breath he didn’t remember inhaling.

“You know, if you asked like that in the beginning, I would’ve said yes.” Melina smirked as she slid off her shoes. “You’re weird sometimes.” She left him by himself, claiming she needed to use the restroom.

But I, I wanna do whatever you wanna do If you wanted to, girl, we could cross that line

Even after two years of living in London, Melina continued to struggle in socializing. If she wasn’t lounging around in Tom’s apartment, the best friends were at the hottest club with their group of friends. No bad blood existed between her and the others; it was just the environment they chose to reside in for the evening.

Tom always noticed this quiet side of her. How she seemed to shrink in posture with slumped shoulders, even though she was gorgeous in her club attire. How she practiced her nervous habit of fiddling with her hands when it wasn’t her to turn to talk yet. How she sidled up against Tom every chance she got if people (mainly men) needed to squeeze by in reaching their destination. To tell you the truth, Tom found these adorable and made it a mission to protect her every time they went out.

The group had split a few minutes prior with Melina and Tom making their way to the bar. After constant begging, Melina hit the dance floor. Tom and the others cheered her on for three songs until she grew tired and yearned for some water. Like the unspoken bodyguard he was, Tom followed her.

“That was fun.” She began. “I haven’t danced like that since my family reunion.” She flagged the bartender down with a raised palm. “Excuse me, can I get some water?”

The woman behind the counter nodded with a smile and proceeded to fix the drink. Melina didn’t hesitate to grasp the foggy, clear glass and chug a large amount of the cold liquid down her throat.

Tom chuckled. “And when was that?”

He watched her chocolate eyes shift to stare at the ceiling in deep thought. “Like July? Of 2018?”

“Aren’t those every year?” he wondered. Last time he remembers having this discussion with Melina, she stated her family met up in the middle of July at one of the local parks every year.

“Yeah but, my parents didn’t go last year and don’t plan on going again this year. I gotta ask my mom again w—”

The sudden pause in the short story encouraged Tom to look up from the bar and into Melina’s eyes. Only, she was looking beyond him with an expression representing discomfort.

“That guy’s been eying me all night. I don’t like it.” she disclosed.

Tom swiveled around in his seat to find the man she was talking to. His eyes were able to pinpoint the stranger instantly searching for another area in sight to claim for straing. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Melina affirmed with a nod of her head. She gazed at the back of her best friends head, praying he wasn’t thinking about making a scene. That’s the last thing she wanted for him. “Hey Tom?”

“Yeah Love?” His eyes were back on her, softer than before when he reversed the role of eying the creeper.

Melina only pursed her lips in embarrassment. After the first club incident where an intoxicated man approached Melina and Tom stepped in to play the role of a protective boyfriend, it had become an unannounced habit to cozy up with one another to ward off the eyes of complete strangers. Still, Melina was anxious in requesting his form of rescuing.

“Come here, Darling.” Tom urged. One of his arms wrapped itself around her waist to twist her body so her back faced him. That same arm also maneuvered her to sit on his lap like a child posing with Santa Claus for a picture.

At this point in their friendship, Melina considered Tom to be her second home. Her immediate family lived thousands of miles away, calling her when they could on Whatsapp and bringing a smile to her face. Tom provided her the same form of comfort just about every day now that her life was here in London.

Realizing this, Melina rested her back against his chest as if he were a pillow. This was temporary but, she couldn’t help but want a little more.

But I feel 'em in my chest A tiny war within But when I pull you closer Girl, I can't explain

Two months had passed but that didn’t stop the two from growing closer in physical contact. Behind closed doors, Tom did more of pulling her into his side when sitting on the couch and for some odd but cute reason, Melina felt the need to straddle his lap when presenting exciting news.

Today was Melina’s hair day and she needed help taking out the box braids she had installed over a month ago. If she took the braids out herself, it would’ve taken longer due to how exhausted she was again from another rough week at work. So, Tom was her next option.

“Sorry if I ripped you away from any plans you had.” She apologized for the fourth time that day.

Tom scoffed. “Darling, how many times do I have to tell you to stop apologizing? I’m currently on break from work and trust me, I’d rather be here than at my place by myself. Haz went out with the crew and I wasn’t up for that today.” He explained. “Besides, I’d rather be here with you.”

A tiny smile sufficed, which didn’t match the beating of her heart that suddenly felt as if it was trying to crawl out of her chest.

“Putting these in looks hard but taking them out? Different story.” Tom commented.

“You’re telling me. Which is why I have other people do it for me. I knew a girl who installed similar braids herself but… it didn’t really come out right in the back. I think it was her first time.”

“Reminds me of the first time Harry tried giving himself a trim.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We ended up giving him a decent buzz cut.”

Her giggle had now become music to Tom’s ears. Whether it be her speaking, crying, or laughing, Tom wanted to record her voice and carry it with him for his travels away from home.

Home. She was now home to him. But how could he reveal that truth to her when his feelings ran deep and he didn’t want to ruin what they had?

He continued to remove her braids in tranquil silence while Melina pulled out her iPad to play a few levels of Homescapes. The further he moved up her head, the more Melina relaxed against his torso by slouching.

The close form of contact affected the temperature of his armpits. Tom was currently stuck on the level of Friendzoning where physical contact with Melina affected how his body responded to her touches. From sweaty armpits to a beating heart, Tom felt powerless in controlling his reactions. And it didn’t help that her head rested above his heart.

It was six-thirty when Tom was pulling the last braid from Melina’s natural hair. She was just shutting her eyes at this point with her iPad turned off and cradled under arms like a student on her way to class. Slumberland grasped her conscious mind once Tom’s fingers began massaging her scalp. Sure, it was dirty but it was necessary her head receive a good kneading from someone aside from herself.

“Feel good, Love?” he whispered.

She hummed in satisfaction. “I need this.”

And I know, and I know that it's on your mind That it's on your mind when I kiss you But I wanna do whatever you wanna do

“I like you. A lot.” Tom panted.

It was the first thing he blurted to Melina as soon as she opened the door to her apartment. He looked as if he’d ran the whole way with his disheveled hair, slightly wet face, and drenched-in-sweat T-shirt he the threw on.

“What?” Melina whispered. Her heart and mind were hoping he meant what he meant.

“I like you a lot. And I mean that as in I have a major crush on you. I have for a while.” He elaborated in between breaths.

Melina ushered him in with a wave of her hand. “Come in, Tommy.”

He stepped over the threshold into the warmth of her apartment. His nose immediately picked up the scent of seasoning for her famous enchilada’s. The ceiling lights were dimmed to create a relaxing vibe. Behind her living space, the tiny dining table was blanketed with a cream table cloth and a vase of flowers stood in the middle of it.

“I just had a good day today, that’s all. I wanted to give myself a bit of a celebration.” She weakly explained. This moment in particular was something she anticipated for the longest but not in the manner of her appearing to set up for a date that wasn’t with Tom. “Um, so you like me?”

“Yeah, I do.” He moved his eyes away from the setting to fully look at her. Her digits were fiddling with one another again and her eyes landed on the space between their feet. Tom rested his hand over hers to lace their fingers. “I just think you’re… beautiful inside and out. You make me happy every time I’m around and… and I just wanted you to know.” He braced himself for the next part. “But, if you don’t feel the same that’s totally fine.”

She chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I feel the same?”

He knew what she was doing. Things could get awkward when Tom had these truthful moments with people. She wanted to ease his feelings through jokes. “Darling, c—”

“I’m being serious. Why wouldn’t I feel the same about you, Tom? You’re everything I like in a guy. Fine as hell, sweet, funny, and all in all: a gentleman.”

They were holding direct eye contact now, a smirk resting on Melina’s lips. She was the one who eventually leaned in connect their lips. Eyes closed, Tom’s arm snaked itself around her waist to pull her closer while both of Melina’s arms wrapped around his neck.

He moved away first, resting his forehead against hers. “Is there room for one more person for your celebratory dinner.”

“There’s always room for one when I’m having a good day.” She giggled as he leaned down to peck her lips again.

[bilbos]

Fine Print || Anthony Beauvillier

Word Count: 3.3k

requested: yes || no

author’s note: this was written as part of @makarcales​ secret gift exchange! I wrote this for @titobeauvilliers​ <3

~ ~ ~

It’s almost 11pm when you make it to the store to buy ingredients for some soup. Normally, you’re not up this late, but your roommate Sadie has only gotten progressively sicker as the night has gone on. Winter in New York is no joke and colds are like a disease in the city. Considering that it’s winter break at NYU, and therefore no classes, you decide that it’s fine that you probably won’t get any sleep tonight to help her out.

As you’re walking down one of the aisles to get some chicken broth, you see a guy about your age squinting at a can of tomato sauce. He places it back and then grabs another one and squints at that one as well.

“Do you…need help?” you ask hesitantly as you get closer to him.

“Um, maybe,” he answers, blushing. “I didn’t think to put in contacts before I left my apartment. And I didn’t have my glasses in my backpack like I thought I did.”

You laugh. “So, what are you looking for?”

“Just some tomato sauce without chunks. I’m in the mood for some pasta and no place is delivering any this late. At least, any that are worth eating.”

“Your sight must be bad because both of the ones you’re holding are both chunky and the pictures show that.”

He blushes even more and puts both cans back. You step around him and grab a couple cans of the non-chunky tomato sauce and hand them over to him. He smiles softly as he grabs them.

“Thank you so much,” he says.

“No problem. You need help finding noodles or anything else?”

“I have everything else at home, so this should be good. I really appreciate this.”

He walks off and you just shake your head. Now it’s time to grab the rest of the ingredients for the soup you’re making.

~ ~ ~

When you get back to your apartment, you tell Sadie about what had happened. She just laughs before going on another coughing spree. It sucks seeing her like this, but your mom’s chicken noodle soup always helps a little bit.

“Seriously, you didn’t have to do this,” Sadie whispers hoarsely.

“You’re my best friend, of course I’m going to do this,” you reply. “It’s honestly the least that I could do, you know? Besides, it’s not like I could have slept anyways.”

“And this is why I love you,” she replies. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do. We deserve each other after everything we’ve been through.”

She just smiles sadly, looking off into the distance. The two of you hardly talk about your life before coming to NYU, and for good reason. Living with your best friend is honestly the best decision you could have made and you can’t come to regret moving so far from home.

Making the rest of the soup passes in silence. You’re not sure what Sadie is thinking about, but it’s hard not to think about life before this. It wasn’t easy being raised the way the two of you were, but even though it sucked, your glad it landed the two of you in such a great place now.

Once you finish making the soup, it’s just past 1am. You dish the two of you up a large bowl of soup and put the rest in a large Tupperware. Sadie takes her bowl to the couch, turning on the TV and trying to find something on Netflix.

“Might as well make it an all-nighter,” she says. “I don’t see myself sleeping any time soon and it’s not like we have class tomorrow anyways.”

“That’s true,” you say. “I’m just going to apologize if I fall asleep now, though.”

“I’ll appreciate your company nonetheless, though.”

She finds a cheesy romantic comedy to turn on, and the two of you sit in silence, watching it all unfold. Halfway through the movie, Sadie grabs your bowl to set it down in the sink. When she sits back down, she turns towards you.

“What if your life turns into a rom-com with the guy you met at the store today?” she asks, seriously.

“That would be absolutely ridiculous, Sadie,” you answer. “It was a one-time thing and New York is such a big city. The chances of me running into him again are very slim.”

“But that would make it extra cute.”

“And I seriously doubt that it’ll happen.”

“Just let me have some fun with it, okay? I mean, he was super cute and he was blushy around you.”

“Yeah, because he was embarrassed, not because of anything else.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” she replies. “And yeah, I know you probably won’t see him again, but it wouldn’t hurt to just imagine it for a bit.”

“I could go in so many different directions with that,” you joke.

Sadie just rolls her eyes as she turns back to the movie.

~ ~ ~

It’s a week later and near the end of your winter break when you’re back at the store again. Now it’s well past midnight and you’re trying to find some junk food. You and Sadie were pulling another all-nighter to binge watch some movies that the two of you had been wanting to watch when you ran out of snacks. Sadie insisted that you had to be the one to go pick it up in case you ran into the tomato guy again.

As your walking down one of the isles in pursuit of some ice cream, you see him again, staring at a pack of cookies. He sets one pack down only to pick up another to stare at the ingredient list. Unsure if he could actually read the ingredients or not, you decide to go over and ask.

“Did you remember to wear your contacts this time?” you ask.

His head snaps over to you and squints. “I can’t believe you have to see me like this again.”

“Seems to be fate. And I’ll take that as a no.”

He sighs. “I just got back from a trip and I wanted some cookies, but I don’t want anything with too much sugar in it.”

“You do realize that you’re buying brand-name cookies, right? I don’t think there’s a low-sugar option available.”

“Please let me just live in denial.”

You laugh. “I guess so. Do you want help or are you just going to take a shot in the dark?”

“I guess I could use some help. I’m just debating between these three.”

He holds out packages of Oreos, Chips Ahoy, and the store brand. You figure the Oreos are a safe bet and hold them over to him.

“Thank you so much,” he says. “I’m Anthony, by the way. If we keep meeting like this, I figure you should at least know my name.”

“I’m y/n,” you reply. “Do you go to school here or something?”

“I actually work here.”

“Oh, that’s cool. It’s killer trying to find a job here, so good on you for finding one. I’m not sure if I’ll find something that can pay the bills by the time I graduate.”

“Yeah, I got super lucky. But, um, I should probably go. It’s getting pretty late.”

“Oh, yeah, I should start getting the rest of what I came here for. Sadie is waiting for me.”

He waves goodbye as he walks off.

~ ~ ~

Sadie smiles smugly when you tell her about what had happened at the store.

“It’s honestly fate,” she says. “I mean, running into him again? And you got his name!”

“I’ll wait until I see him again. Third times a charm, right?”

“I still can’t believe you saw him again though! I was hoping you would, but I didn’t actually believe it.”

“Yeah, I guess it is weird. But I’m not going to chalk it up to anything besides we both like to go to the store late at night,” you reply. “Besides, I’m not sure how much I’d even have the chance to see him once school starts up again. I’d like to keep a normal sleep schedule.”

“But that’s no fun!”

“It’s no fun, but it’ll help reduce my suffering. And I’m graduating soon, too, I’d like to not be dead before then.”

“Ugh, I thought I told you to not talk about graduating. I don’t want to face the real world yet.”

“That’s what grad school is for.”

“Okay, true, but I also don’t want to be in debt even more.”

You snort. “Well, you should make up your mind. It’s a little late now to apply, but I don’t see why you can’t go next year.”

“Only if you get into the same program. I refuse to struggle through school without my best friend there.”

“That’s the dream, huh?”

“My other dream happens to be us working together and staying here in NYC.”

“That’s a good dream.”

~ ~ ~

A month later and you’re suffering through schoolwork. You knew that your senior year was going to be tough, but the amount of work never stops surprising you. Sadie is in the same boat and the two of you decide to make some progress at a local café the both of you love. The two of you are sitting close together and she keeps playfully hitting you every time you try to get her to focus.

“I’m just trying to get us to finish this faster so that I can go to bed at a reasonable time tonight. I feel like I’m a zombie.”

“If you’re a zombie, you’re the hottest one around,” Sadie says, a bit loudly.

At that exact moment, Anthony comes walking by your table and looks over, confused. When he sees you, he smiles brightly, excited to see you. You smile back and immediately realizing that he’s wearing glasses and this only makes him more attractive.

“Oh, hey, y/n,” he greets. “Is this Sadie?”

“Yep, I’m Sadie,” she replies. “Best thing that’s ever happened to her.”

“Oh my god, don’t listen to her. We’ve been attached at the hip for the last couple of years, but it’s more because she inserted herself into my life,” you explain.

“That’s nice,” he says, smile dimming a bit. “Are you doing school work?”

“Yeah, just trying to finish up, but Sadie is being distracting.”

She smiles widely. “So, are you Anthony? Y/n told me about you.”

“Oh god, I can’t believe you told people about that,” he groans.

You shrug. “I tell Sadie everything.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind if I ever see you at the store again,” he replies. “I should be going, though, I’m meeting up with a couple of friends soon and I just wanted some coffee before heading over. I’ll see you soon?”

“Oh, sure,” you say.

When Anthony gets in line, Sadie shoves you. “Oh my god, you didn’t tell me how hot he was. Now you have to get his number.”

“I don’t know. I know I said I would, but it feels kind of weird asking someone you barely know for their number.”

“Okay, but you get to know him better by asking for his number.”

“Just leave it, okay? I’d really rather not deal with this right now.”

Sadie sighs and goes back to working on her paper. She knows better than to push you too much, knowing that if you really wanted to, you would have had no issue asking for Anthony’s number. When he finally gets his coffee, he waves at you and Sadie.

~ ~ ~

“God, Mat, she has a girlfriend,” Anthony groans. “And they look so cute together.”

“Did they say that they were dating?” Mat asks.

“Well, no, but it sure did seem like it. And y/n said that they’ve been attached at the hip. Doesn’t that mean that they’re basically dating?”

“Or it could mean that they’re really good friends.”

“Okay, but you didn’t see how they were acting together. I really thought that I was going to have a chance with her.”

“Dude, I l know that this sucks, but you’ll be able to move on. Or just be her friend. Just because you can’t date her doesn’t mean the two of you can’t still be good friends.”

Anthony just sighs and leans back into the couch. He can’t deny that it’ll be hard for him to just be friends with you, but he also wants to just know you more. Mat just looks on sympathetically.

“Maybe when I see her again, I can give her and Sadie tickets to one of our games or something.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea. I’d like to meet them.”

~ ~ ~

The next time you see Anthony is at the store (again) in the vegetable aisle. He’s acting a little odd, but seems excited to see you again nonetheless.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you greet. “I have to say, it’s weird seeing you here at a normal time.”

“Ah, yeah, it is,” Anthony replies, a bit awkwardly. “Um, I was wondering if you and Sadie might want to come to a game of mine.”

“A game?”

“Yeah, a hockey game. It’s what I play,” Anthony explains. “We have an evening game next Saturday.”

“Oh yeah, that would be a lot of fun! How much are tickets?”

“I’d actually be reserving them for you. No need to pay.”

“That would be amazing. Do you think you could reserve three? Sadie is having her boy over that weekend and I’d love to have him come with.”

“Yeah, I could do that.”

“What stadium are you guys playing at?” you ask.

“We’re at Barclays,” Anthony answers, visibly confused.

You’re not sure why he’s acting confused, but you just assume that he told you at some point and you had forgotten.

“Just text me the details and I’ll see you there?” you say.

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good. See you then, I guess.”

~ ~ ~

“Mat, I think Sadie has a kid.”

“Tito, what the fuck? Where the hell did you get that idea?” Mat asks, concerned.

“Y/n said that Sadie’s boy would be visiting that weekend. I assume that means kid,” Anthony explains, visibly distressed.

“Dude, did you ever think that she would just be using some fancy slang for boyfriend?”

“But that would mean that the two of them weren’t dating and I really don’t think that’s the case. This is just too much.”

“You’re still going to invite them to the game though?”

Anthony groans. “Yeah, unfortunately. I just…don’t want to back out. And I feel like seeing them will help me from feeling things about y/n.”

“That is…so sad, dude.”

“I know, I don’t need you pointing that out.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Mat replies, teasingly. “But seriously, I think it’s all going to be fine.”

“God, I hope so.”

~ ~ ~

When you, Sadie, and James hop out of the Lyft at Barclays, you immediately notice how many people are there. The three of you exchange confused looks, not expecting this amount of people.

“Hey, y/n, I thought you said that they weren’t a big team,” James points out, staring at a large group of people wearing Islanders jerseys.

“I thought they weren’t a big team. He never talked about it, so I assumed it wasn’t a big deal. And the game is on a Saturday night, so that really didn’t help much,” you explain. “Plus, he never said who the team was, so I never figured to look into it.”

“So, uh, where are we picking up tickets again?” James asks. “Just the ticket station?”

“I think so?” you reply confused.

When the three of you get into line, you notice Sadie googling the Islanders and scrolling through the team roster. She finds Anthony’s picture and just hands over her phone.

“You’ve been talking to one of the team’s most popular players and you didn’t even know it!” Sadie exclaims.

“Nobody said sports were my strong suit,” you joke, while looking at his picture.

This whole thing felt surreal and you hand Sadie’s phone back in a daze. It feels weird because none of it is quite clicking in your head. When you get to the front of the line, you explain the situation and you get handed your tickets.

As the three of you make your way in, the three of you realize the seats you’re at are extremely good seats. In fact, the seats were right next to the glass. This only makes everything feel more overwhelming than it already is.

“Jesus, y/n, I can’t believe you didn’t know that he was a professional hockey player,” James says, astounded.

“Look, it’s not like work was a common topic for us. The first two times we met were in the middle of the night and I doubt either of us were very coherent,” you explain.

“Well, should make things fun now,” Sadie replies. “Oh, look, I think the game is starting!”

The whole game seems to pass in a blur and you don’t take a whole lot in. It’s overwhelming and a lot is passing through your head. Anthony doesn’t seem to be looking for you, which makes sense, but you still had some kind of hope that he would have been. After the game has ended, Anthony texts you asking you to wait for him.

“So, Anthony is asking us to meet him in the parking lot, but he’s apologizing for not having a car seat?” you say, confused.

“Why would we need a car seat? Is this some weird joke that you guys have that you didn’t tell me about?” Sadie asks.

“No, I would remember that. Maybe he didn’t mean to send that to me,” you say.

It takes almost forty-five minutes for Anthony to come out to the parking lot, and then he shoots Sadie and James a weird look. The two of them are just standing there, holding hands, so you aren’t sure what’s going on. He awkwardly waves at the three of you as he approaches.

“Uh, hey guys?” Anthony greets.

“Hey, Anthony! You already know Sadie, but this is her boyfriend, James,” you introduce.

Anthony shakes James’ hand in a daze. James raises an eyebrow at this, obviously sensing his confusion.

“So, um, this is going to sound really, really weird, but I thought James was your kid, Sadie. And I thought you were dating y/n,” Anthony explains.

“I mean, y/n didn’t realize you played in the NHL, so I think the two of you are almost even,” Sadie jokes.

“You didn’t know I played in the NHL?” Anthony inquires.

“It never came up, so I just assumed it was a small team or something” you reply, shrugging.

“You two are honestly so perfect for each other,” James remarks. “With how oblivious the two of you are, I think you’ll be perfectly happy.”

“James!” you exclaim.

Anthony blushes widely. “Um, I was going to invite you guys out for drinks or something, but…”

“I would love to go for drinks, but I also feel really overwhelmed right now?” you reply. “Maybe we could go for coffee tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I would like that,” Anthony says, with a small smile.

~ ~ ~

The two of you meet in the small coffee shop you saw each other in only a couple of weeks ago. You were pretty restless the night before, thinking about the amount of miscommunication both of you had. In all honesty, you were extremely surprised that he thought you were dating Sadie and that James was your kid. But you also felt blindsided by his profession, even when it would have been pretty easy to figure it out if you just googled him.

“So, uh, I feel kind of stupid,” Anthony says, once the two of you sit down with your coffees.

“God, I feel the same,” you reply. “I can’t believe neither of us knew.”

“Well, at least we’re here now,” he says. “And, um, I was wondering if this would count as a date?”

“I’d like that a lot.”

Anthony smiles brightly and grabs your hand that isn’t holding onto your coffee, which just makes you smile in return.

“So, is there anything else that I should know about you that could have completely gone over my head?” he asks.

[creator-zee]

29

10 years ago...

       Madison leaned against me as we watched the movie on my bed. I glanced up as I saw my mom pass by the door. She suddenly paused and glared at me.

         “Montana, can I please have a word with you? It’s about your father.”

         I nodded. “Of course, Mom.”

         Madison sat up as I slid off my bed and walked into the hallway. Mom grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the door. 

          “What do you think you’re doing?”

         I shuffled nervously under her piercing gaze. “Uh, watching a movie?”

          She glared at me. “I meant with Madison. You two were awfully close.” She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper, and leaned down. “You’re not a lesbian are you? You now that gays like that ruined or family. Just look at your father, leaving me for some man. You better not be one of them Montana.” She straightened back up and returned her voice to normal. “Go back and finish the movie now, dear.”

       I nodded and hurried back to my bed sitting farther away from Madison ignoring her questioning glance.

Present Day...

       I tucked my back pack under the table as I pulled out my lunch. I was sitting by myself as usual. I had drifted apart from many of my childhood friends and never tried to make anymore. I saw Madison and her friend group walk by on the way to their table. I couldn’t help but admire how one of her friends, Dana, I think looked in the outfit she was wearing today. I quickly dropped my gaze, as I saw Madison looking at me. I went back to focusing my attention on my sandwich. Unfortunately, I ate it too quickly to last as a distraction for long. I shoved the bag back in my backpack to throw away before pulling out my sketchbook. I flipped to an open page and pulled out my phone to look up a reference image. I had been obsessed with this one show recently and wanted to draw some fan art. What’s the harm? Only I would ever see it. 

       Too soon the bell rang and I was forced to abandon my drawing in favor of going to biology class. Oh joy of joys I got to go be confused about neurons. I sighed as I entered the crowded hallways, senior year couldn’t end fast enough so I could just go to college already. I was sick of high school. Oh well, three more periods and I could go home. 

      Home sweet home. I stepped out of the truck my mom had gotten me for my 16tg birthday and headed up the path to the house. I opened the door calling out to announce my arrival. 

        “Mom. I’m home.”

        No response. She must not be home. I headed up the stairs up to my room and tossed my backpack on the floor. I collapsed onto my be sighing. I really didn’t want to do my homework. But, alas, this is the curse of the teenager. I somehow managed to summon up the willpower to get up and open up my backpack and pull out my schoolwork. I decided to also grab my sketchbook. I couldn’t finish my sketch then I would do my homework. 

          I was midway through a biology worksheet on action potential when my mom knocked on my door and walked in. What’s the point of knocking if you just walk in?

         “Hey Montana, How was your day sweetie?”

         I shrugged. “Good Mom. If you don’t mind I have some homework I need to focus on.”

          She nodded. “Of course, just let me see what you drew and I’ll be out of your hair.”

        “Wait no!” I lunged for my sketchbook, but it was too late. My mom already had it. She looked up in disgust at my most recent sketch. The fan art drawing for my favorite show. She ripped it out, angrily waving it in my face. 

         “What shit is this Montana? Why the duck are you drawing, drawing, ugh, lesbians.” She forced out lesbians like it would make her hurl just saying it. 

        I struggled to defend myself from her wrath. “It’s not-“

        “Oh shut it, Montana. I can’t believe you. After how gays like these destroyed our family. I better not catch you drawing anything like this again.” She paused in her fury. “You’re not a lesbian, are you?”

      I hung my head. “No, Mom.” The lie sat heavy on my tongue. 

        She ripped the drawing to shreds, and my soul broke a little. “Good, because if you were it would be out on the streets for you.”

       I nodded. “Ok Mom. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

        “Good.” She turned and stormed out of the room tossing my drawing in the trash as she left. Damn. I had liked that drawing. 

       As I turned back to the biology worksheet tears dropped off my face onto the paper. Would my mom ever accept me? Or would I always have to lie?

         The next day at school I found myself sitting outside at lunch. My sketchbook was on my lap lying open waiting for me to draw something to fill its pages. But the tattered remains of the page my mom tore out still clung to the spirals and I found myself lacking any motivation to draw. As I stared at the stupid price of paper I had to stop tears welling up in my eyes. Was my mom right? Was it really so wrong to be gay?

        I sighed staring at the school hoping for inspiration to suddenly strike me. Instead all I saw was Madison punning a girl against the side of the building making out with her. Great. Just what I wanted. To see a reminder of what I could never have. I shoved my sketchbook in my back back and slung it over my shoulder. The tears had escaped my eyes now and were silently sliding down my cheeks. I pulled my hood up and walked to the bathroom. I couldn’t go to biology looking like this. 

         I put my hands on the sink staring at myself in the mirror. I was pathetic. I ran the cold water and splashed some on my face washing the tears away. My eyes were still red, but that couldn’t be avoided. I could just lie and say I had allergies if anyone asked, not that anyone would. The bell rang and I walked out of the bathroom almost running straight into a girl. 

        “Sorry.” I hastily apologized as I went on my way.

          I sat down in biology class and pulled out my folder. I glanced up to the board, trying to glean some hint of what we would be doing. No luck. The board was empty. I would have to wait for Mr. Monroe to begin teaching. As I waited for the bell to ring and class to start I couldn’t help but overhear the conversations next to me. 

          “Where was Madison today at lunch?”

        “Probably with Kelsey.”

         “Ugh, ever since she got a girlfriend it’s like she has no time for us.”

       “I know right. I hardly ever see her outside of clas.”

        “Speak of the devil...”

        I glanced up at this and noticed Madison walking in right as the bell rang  I noticed her brown hair was messed up, and she looked a bit out of breathe. She must have had to run to class. 

       Finally, Mr. Monroe began teaching, continuing the unit on the nervous system. I really didn’t understand it at all. I found myself wishing that I had bothered to actually talk to other people so I could have some friends to ask for help. I sighed and just continued taking notes. I always had the internet to help me struggle through.

       Much confusion later, I found myself rushing to pack my stuff up as the bell caught me by surprise. I grabbed my backpack and followed the rest of the class out into the hall. Time for the most riveting class of all, history. Ugh I hate history. It’s all the same. Oppression, revolution, new government that oppressed other. Rinse and repeat. 

         I entered the class and looked ahead to my seat, but there was some guy sitting on it. Oh great. That’s really what I need right now. Having to deal with some jerk was just what I needed to improve my wonderful day. Note the sarcasm. Instead of actively engaging the dude that looked about like about six feet tall and absolutely ripped, I decided to just stand next to my desk hoping he would move, I didn’t want to have to fight him. 

        “What’cha staring at girl? Too hard to keep your eyes off my hot bod?” The guy turned to face me. 

         “No. You’re in my seat.” I stated flatly. I couldn’t find the guy attractive if I wanted to and I had tried, but there was one problem with him, he was, well, a guy.

        He laughed. “Oh, I’m in your seat? I didn’t realize we had assigned seats.”

        I looked up to meet his gaze. If this guy wanted to be a jerk, he would get another thing coming. I was in no mood to deal with his bullshit.

         “We may not have assigned seats but I have sat in that seat every day, since the beginning of the school year.” I glared at him. 

        He stood up cockily. “Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.” He turned to his goons behind him. “Did any of you notice?”

       They all shook their heads burning some variation of “no.”

        He laughed. “Who are you again? I don’t remember seeing you around. Are you new?”

        I clenched my first as the urge to punch him built. “I’m Montana and I’ve been going to this school for four years.”

        The guy just laughed again. “Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell. Who even names their kid after a state anyways?” He turned to his goons who all laughed along with him. He waved me away like I was a stray cat he could shoo away. “Go find another seat State. This one’s mine now.”

       I sighed clenching my jaw. “No.”

        He turned back to face me. “Sorry, what? I thought I heard you just say no, but that can’t be right. No one ever disobeys me.”

        I didn’t budge under his glare. I did t want to pick a fight, but him and his cocky attitude were just asking for one. “I said No. That’s my seat, move.”

       I stood up taking a step towards me so that he was right in front of me. “What did you say, girl?”

       I didn’t flinch despite him standing over me. I was only about 4” shorter but it was enough. “I said move.”

        He suddenly brought his fist around and punched me straight in the face. I stumbled back holding my face, as I felt blood drip down my face.

        He smirked. “That’ll teach you. A girl should always listen to a man, especially when that man is me.”

       I wiped the blood off my face with the back of my hand. I heard the bell ring but the teacher was nowhere to be seen just great. 

         “Move out of my seat.” I growled, stepping closer. The rest of the class was watching our every move but I didn’t care. I was not going to let this misogynistic douchebag win. 

        He tried to punch me again but I ducked. “When will you learn, cunt? It’s my seat now.”

        I didn’t dare punch back in fear of getting suspended so I settled for dodging his sloppy punches. Obviously, no one had taught him how to fight properly. Unfortunately, no one had taught me either, and he managed to land another hit in my face which caused me to stumble back. He followed it up by kicking me and knocking me to the ground. 

       “What the hell is going on here?” The teacher, Mr. Smith had finally arrived. 

       I picked myself up from the floor, while the guy tried to defend himself. “Nothing, Mr. Smith.”

      He raised an eyebrow. “So attacking another student is ‘nothing?’” He pointed to the door. “Office, now, both of you. Bring your stuff.”

       The guy groaned grabbing his bag and storming into the hallway, I followed him quietly. Great, the office. I really didn’t need detention. We arrived at the office and the pad just barged right in.

         The office lady looked up at the intrusion. “What can I do for you?”

        A man peaked out from one of the offices. “Send them in here. Smith just called that these two were fighting in his classroom.”

        The dude stomped angrily in the room sitting down on the chair angrily and slouching crossing his arms with an air of false bravado. I set my backpack down next to me as I took the other chair. I could still feel blood running down my face so I pinched the bridge of my nose to stop the flow as the man, Mr. Clark, surveyed us over his desk. 

       “So what happened?” He asked, coolly. 

         “I was just trying to get him to move out of my seat when he punched me when I didn’t listen to him and just go to a different seat. I told him to move again but he just punched me again.” I offered. 

        The other guy snorted. 

        Mr. Clark raised an eyebrow. “Do you have something to add Tyler?”

        “It’s the own bitches fault. She was asking for it. Wouldn’t just go to a different seat?”

         “Watch your language Mr. Johnson. We have a strict no violence policy here, and you no that. No verbal attack, if there even was one, warrants a physical attack. I will be calling your parents you have a three day in school suspension. And for you Montana, get cleaned up and head back to class, but if I hear that you threw fists too from the other students you will be joining Tyler in suspension.”

       I nodded and stood up. “Yes, Mr. Clark.” I grabbed my backpack and headed to the bathroom to wash the blood off my face. As I splashed cold water against my face, I sighed. Could this day get any worse? I glanced up in the mirror, figuring I was cleaned up enough and headed back to class. I walked in and silently went to my seat, everybody was working quietly. 

       “Nice of you to join us Montana. We’re doing a partner presentation on one of the movements in the 1970’s.” Mr. Smith said. I internally groaned. So this day could get worse. “I’ve paired you with Ash.” Much worse. I had never talked to Ask before, this was going to be painfully awkward. 

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Chapter: 6/7 Word count: 1980 Summary: Now attending the university here in their hometown as he begins his Master’s, Tobirama develops a problem with falling asleep in the strangest of places. Madara, poor innocent never-deserved-any-of-this Madara, gets mistaken for a mattress one too many times. All he wanted to do was focus on his career but instead he finds himself forcibly tasked with herding his secret crush towards better sleep habits. It’s driving him up the wall.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI in the blog header!

Chapter 6: Clearing The Air

Boxes. An entire sea of cardboard boxes filling up that one barren corner of his living room that he’d always meant to do something with but never really got around to it. Until now there hadn’t been anyone around to make him feel pressured in to the task and even when Tobirama had appeared he’d figured the fool wouldn’t notice anything that wasn’t food or schoolwork.

Now there were boxes and Madara had a couple of guesses as to where they came from but he was having a hard time figuring out why they chose now to appear. Luckily the man he was after had flopped down in the middle of the mess as though he intended to make himself a homework fort.

“Should I ask?” he drawled. Tobirama looked up from his phone, on which he appeared to be googling some kind of rare chemical compounds.

“My lease came up for renewal but my building manager told me he had some people willing to pay more for the apartment and he wanted me officially gone. So I suppose I really just live here now.” One careless shrug and he was lost to his research again.

Madara sat down hard on the bed-couch, still hovering in the doorway between living room and kitchen at just such an angle that he could watch TV while his self-declared roommate slept. It was too much. He had suffered quite a bit for this man, through confusion and frustration and not a few nights when it took all his self-control not to just roll his hips and take a bit of pleasure no one ever had to know about. Unfortunately he was a police officer who knew right from wrong. He was also, however, hoping to see a promotion to detective someday soon and detectives liked to find answers.

“I think I’m drawing the line,” he said.

“Hm?”

“You can’t just keep playing with me like this.”

Curious, Tobirama resurfaced from his phone. Madara had enough brainpower to at least appreciate the amount of attention he was getting as opposed to last week when Hashirama came to visit and spent over an hour trying to entice Tobirama away from the page of calculations he was studying. The rest of his brain was busy scrambling to tie the loose ends of his sanity back together so he wouldn’t fly apart under the constant confusion of this ridiculous situation between them.

“I am not playing anything,” Tobirama said, a hint of curiosity in his tone. Madara snorted.

“You sleep on me! With cuddling! And you get mad at me when I sleep without you or I can’t be there when you want to sleep and–! You kiss me! Now the moving in and I can’t! I can’t anymore!” Pulling at twin handfuls of hair, Madara’s eyes squeezed shut with the force of his emotions. “There’s no way you can tell me you haven’t noticed I’m in love with you! So just stop! No more! Okay!?”

Tobirama slowly lowered his phone down to his lap, jaw falling open to gape in shock. “Wha–?”

“Any more of this and I’ll have an actual break down and you know I’m ugly when I cry! Everyone says so! I just need…I don’t know.” Madara deflated as easily as he had gotten himself riled up.

What he needed was to hibernate for at least three seasons until these stupid feelings went away or until he starved himself to death, whichever came first. At this point either would have been good.

“No, you misunderstand me.” Tobirama set his phone aside and stood. When he stepped forward Madara scowled and leaned back. He was met with the back of their bed-couch and stayed trapped there as the other man approached, pinning him in place with narrowed eyes.

“Stop it, whatever you’re doing!”

“Be quiet for a minute and listen!” With a huff Tobirama poked him in the middle of his chest. “You think I fell asleep on you every day for several months, laid my head down on your chest when I was tired and looked for you – only you – when I needed rest, but I’m still too stupid to think there might be something between us? Why the hell would I kiss you if I didn’t like you?”

Madara pinched his lips together. “Fucked if I know.”

“You’re an idiot. And here I thought it was perfectly clear where we were headed! It’s hardly my fault you never made a move so I kissed you myself. Are you telling me you still don’t realize we’re already dating?” Tobirama poked him in the chest again with one thin finger but Madara was too busy staring to react.

“Wait what?” he asked faintly.

“Is there a specific part of that you needed me to repeat?”

“Dating!? You think we’re already dating!?”

Finally Tobirama paused, looking unsure of himself for the first time. “Are we not? You didn’t oppose me when I kissed you…” He had the gall to look more confused when Madara flailed with violent exasperation.

“Of course I didn’t ‘oppose’ you! I wanted it – and more! But I don’t want you kissing me or thinking we’re dating just because I happen to make a comfortable pillow!”

“That isn’t it at all!”

“Then tell me what the deal is here because you’ve never shown any signs that you might want something from me other than a bed buddy! I’ve been going crazy this whole time trying to hold myself together with you draped all over me and you’re telling me suddenly that you think we’re dating?” Madara snarled out of sheer frustration. “I don’t like having my feelings played with. I’ll be the first to admit that some parts of having you here have been amazing but it’s – I – this is too much. You can’t live here. You have a whole room at Hashirama’s house waiting for you! Go move in there!”

He was panting by the time he finished, a little surprised by himself. It was hard to remember the last time he’d said so much all at once without being interrupted or giving testimony on the witness stand. Tobirama gaped at him in naked shock.

“Um…can we go back to the part where you said you were in love with me? I sort of passed that over because I didn’t think you meant it seriously but…” Shuffling awkwardly, Tobirama scrubbed at one arm with the opposite hand and let his voice trail off without finishing his sentence. Madara swallowed thickly.

“We don’t, er, need to focus on that, do we?” he mumbled.

“I think we do. Namely because I…hadn’t realized. Truthfully, I hadn’t realize that you felt anything for me beyond a mere acceptance of my presence.”

“Acceptance?” Madara parroted in disbelief.

Tobirama wrinkled his nose slightly. “Knowing how you truly feel makes it seem a bit of a ridiculous assumption, I agree. I thought I had broadcasted my desire for a relationship quite clearly and yet you never seemed to have an interest so when you allowed me to rest on top of you and it turned out to be the best sleep of my entire life I saw no downsides to asking that we continue to do so.”

“Hn, ‘ask’.”

“Fair, I don’t suppose I ever truly asked anything.”

“No, you demanded,” Madara said, “with little regard for what my answer might be.”

“In any case, I kissed you because I was growing impatient and I wanted to know once and for all if you saw anything between us. Your only qualm seemed to be that you wanted more than just kissing and I thought…”

“You thought that meant we were suddenly dating!?” Madara wondered, faintly, why he made such poor life choices as to fall in love with a man stupider than himself.

Actually that wasn’t true. Tobirama wasn’t stupid, he was just socially oblivious and didn’t care much for learning how to be otherwise. But that didn’t make it any easier to swallow that he had been suffering for nothing this entire time just because they both refused to open their mouths and talk like regular people with regular emotions.

He unashamedly placed most of the blame for this on Tobirama’s hands. Madara would be the first to admit that he was bad at flirting but Tobirama had given off absolutely no signals other than hatred in all the years they had known each other, right up until the day he–

“Oooooh.” Madara’s empty body drained off tension, his face going slack with wonder. “When you were off at university that first year – holy shit. That’s why you made me sit next to you and keep you warm when the heater wasn’t working.”

“Mhm.”

“You liked me back then?”

“Clearly. Why else would I have let you cuddle me like that?”

“Let me? That was another demand! You gave me no choice!” Through sheer force of will Madara managed to avoid sticking his tongue out. He was a grown man up for promotion to detective in a very respectable precinct and he would not resort to such childish measures.

He would, however, resort to crossing his arms and snorting pointedly in Tobirama’s direction. The head tilt he got in return was incredibly unsatisfying as far as reactions go.

“Question. Are we fighting right now because we’ve both been wanting to date each other but neither of us realized that the other was interested so now that we’re both on the same page we’re releasing all of that pent up tension we couldn’t discuss before?” Tobirama furrowed his brows while Madara snapped his jaw shut, both of them glaring thoughtfully across the small space between them.

“I think so,” Madara said.

Tobirama grunted. “So we could be making out instead now that we both get what’s going on?”

“We could. I’m still a little mad at you.”

“Understandable.”

Madara nodded slowly. Then he lurched upwards off the cushions and crushed their mouths together. It obviously wasn’t the first time they had kissed but it was the first time he had been able to reciprocate without feeling like he was bracing himself for some inevitable fallout afterwards. The arm of the couch behind him was all that kept him upright then as his knees went weak, hands clutching the back of Tobirama’s shirt both to hold himself up and to keep the other man as close as possible.

When Tobirama groaned against him he swallowed the sound eagerly and tilted his head for a better angle. The kiss tasted like relief, like frustration bleeding out to leave room for everything he had been pushing down to spring up instead and fill him. He felt buoyant when they pulled apart. If his feet had lifted from the ground right then he wouldn’t have been surprised – though he would have held on tighter to make certain that Tobirama came with him because just the thought of separation after such a revelation was painful.

Finally achieving the one goal he had deemed hopeless years ago, now that was a rush not even cracking the hardest case could beat.

“I guess you can stay here and live with me officially,” he murmured, deliberately offhand.

“Can we sleep in the bed now, then?” Tobirama asked. “You’re very comfortable but I’ll bet you’d be much more comfortable if I had you on a mattress.” Madara choked.

“Don’t phrase it like that!”

“Are you turning down sex?”

“Why can’t you just let me have one nice moment? Huh? Just one, that’s all I’m asking!”

Tobirama’s laughter was as pleasing to the ear as ever but it didn’t do much to dampen his annoyance this time. Still, Madara couldn’t find it in himself to get truly angry at the man – not when he finally had a chance to taste that laughter right from the source.

[og-lacksubstance-studios]

Protecting You - Part 2

Summary: Strong-willed Detective Sasha Rae is one of the best detective on the NYPD. Her world is suddenly turned upside down when she must protect a prime witness to a crime. Can she put her feelings aside for the sake of the case or will she become a victim herself?

I intended to arrive at the campus as soon as I got my briefing; however, I realized how that must look for someone who is trying to keep a low profile. I doubt this girl wants people in her classes to know she has to testify against Herbert Kline. I suppose that is the whole point why I was chosen for this assignment and not anyone else.

I make it to the campus a few hours later with a bag of food in hand for Ms. Jefferies, seeing as I’m about to make myself comfortable in her world. I leave my duffle in the trunk of my car just in case I overwhelm her and no one told her about someone coming to crash at her place.

I pass several people who eye me suspiciously in the hallway, before reaching the door on the third floor. The dorms look pretty rundown and I’m sort of curious as to why as a grad student she wouldn’t just choose to live off campus. Well, it is New York, nothing is cheap in this city. I barely can even afford my own rent.

I knock on the door casually and shuffle back and forth on my feet as I wait. I hope she’s home already. I waited at least three hours to show up after I left the station. I bite my bottom lip as I hear shuffling around the room till the door finally swings opened. I don’t want to say my breath is taken away, but she is beautiful. Her hair wisps on her shoulders as her tank top and sweatpants hug the right places. I shouldn’t really be looking at her like this as I have a job to do, but I’m not going to deny something obvious.

“Can I help you?” She asks and that’s when I note that the DA didn’t bother to fill her in on me coming by.

“First off, here is a peace offering,” I say politely holding the food out. She stares at it concerned, but takes it slowly from my hand, causing our fingers to brush ever so slightly.

“Second of all…” she says, her voice veering off.

“I’m assuming the DA didn’t fill you in on me,” I say and she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest, the food still clutched in one hand while she leans against the doorframe.

“I told them I wasn’t going to testify,” she says softly, losing complete resolve.

“And that’s why I’m here, whatever threats you’ve had coming your way will be my problem,” I explain to her smiling as best as one can in this situation, forcing her to look up in shock.

“What? No, no way. I have exams, labs, and eventually my thesis. I cannot handle all of this pressure, not now!” She says frustrated and clearly anxiety stricken. I feel for her I do, but we can’t let Kline get away with this. If we do, who knows what damage he could do.

I sigh, before ushering with my hand to allow me to step inside as I hardly think this conversation should continue out in the hallway. She steps aside and lets me in and I note immediately that she lives alone which is both great and as I imagine terrifying for her.

She shuts the door and I turn towards her standing in the middle of the studio style room. “I get that you’re scared, but letting Kline get away with what he’s done does no favors to anyone.”

“It won’t do me any good if you’re hauled out in front of the building all night either,” she says and I grimace.

“Yeah, DA and my Chief think it’d be best if I was a live-in security detail. They thought if you had a woman protecting you that you’d feel a little bit more comfortable,” I explain and she looks on in both shock and, something else I can’t pinpoint.

There is a long pause between the two of us before she speaks. “I don’t exactly have an extra bed,” she says softly still trying to adjust to the idea of this happening. And she’s right, this whole me being here isn’t exactly going to do us any good. We don’t know each other and I find that it’d be a bit inappropriate if we share a bed.

Fuck…

“I suppose we can always go to my apartment.” She looks up at this suggestion. “There is only one room, but I have a couch, so I can just sleep on that. It’s only till the trial so I can handle a month of sleeping on it. It’s comfortable enough,” I say and she smirks slightly throughout my entire explanation.

“Do you realize you ramble when you’re uncomfortable?” She asks still smirking. When did it suddenly get so hot in here? I clear my throat and stand straighter, not wanting my resolve to go anywhere.

“I suggest you pack a few things, so we can head out. I’d like a clear breakdown of your schedule so I can make sure you are back at the campus for your classes,” I explain professionally and she smiles softly at my need to hide how she’s got me off guard.

“Are we understood Miss. Jefferies?” I ask keeping my face as hard as stone and she merely shakes her head.

“Sure, let me pack my bag,” she breathes out a chuckle, before walking to her dresser while I go to stand outside till she is done.

A few minutes later, MacKenzie comes out of her room with her keys, duffle, and laptop bag, locking the door behind her. She gulps as she turns towards me clearly feeling uneasy about the whole thing, but I just want to make things easier for her.

We walk out to the car silently and I take her bags from her to put in the trunk while she gets into the passenger seat. I open my door and slide in just as she’s putting on her seatbelt. I start the car and we pull out onto the street, the sun setting behind us.

“So, how exactly did you get wrapped up in all this?” I ask, trying to break the ice while keeping my eyes peeled forward.

“I was working at this nightclub, The Rift on 3rd and I was asked to bartend up in the VIP section for the night and Kline was there with his associates. I guess Mr. Yooley and him had it out towards the end of the night and I was bent down in the bar cleaning up for the night when I heard them arguing. The next thing I know, I peak out briefly and see Kline pointing a gun with a silencer at Mr. Yooley and then shoot him three times,” she explains in deep thought as if she’s reliving the moments.

“I never saw someone die before,” she adds and I can’t help, but feel bad for her. Someone who isn’t used to the lines of work I’ve done since I was eighteen should never have to endure something like that. Unfortunately, I’ve grown numb to that life.

“I’m sorry you had to endure that,” I tell her softly, turning left down another main street.

“Have you—?” She didn’t have to finish her question. I already knew what she was insinuating.

“Yes,” I say softly. “Far more than I would have liked,” I add as I turn right onto my block and I feel her eyes hanging onto my voice.

“Does it get any easier?” She asks as I park in front of my apartment building. I take the keys out and sigh heavily.

“Not really.”

She looks down sadly. “Come on, let’s get you inside,” I tell her softly as we get out of the car, grabbing her belongings prior to going upstairs.

Entering the apartment with someone else feels a bit strange. I mean I don’t usually date and if I do hook up with anybody, which is rare, I usually don’t do it in my own bed. I just don’t have the time for someone and in my line of work, I worry if I cross the wrong person, they’ll be in danger.

“Make yourself at home,” I tell her as I place my keys down on the table by the door. I turn around and see her standing where I left her as she takes everything in. I remember that look, I’d get it every time something life changing would happen. Maybe my experience with all of that can help her along the way.

I walk up slowly behind her and get around her, clearing my throat to grab her attention. “Do you need anything?” I ask and she shakes her head, mustering the best smile she possibly can. “Well, I’ll show you where you can sleep and what not.”

She follows me down the hallway to the bedroom which I try really hard to keep organized and clean, even if it’s just me. It’s a force of habit. “You have a nice place,” she compliments and I nod.

“Thank you, it’s good enough for just me, you know?” I tell her and she smiles softly in agreement. “Oh, the bathroom is right across the way,” I add as she nods slowly, taking the information in.

“Do you have any questions?”

“No, I think I’m just going to finish up some schoolwork, then head to bed. I have an eight-am class,” she says and I nod in understanding.

“Okay, well just let me know if you need anything,” I say, grabbing some clothes to sleep in before making my way out to the living room to get some rest.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Watford Cove

Chapter 5: not so typical love song

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 5365

Chapter: 5/13 [All chapters]

Summary: Baz goes to Simon's house to work on the project.

Read on AO3

AN: So as some of you may know/remember, I work at an amusement park. I was supposed to work today but it's literally raining all day so the park is most certainly closed. Which means I can post early! Hooray! This is personally one of my favourite chapters. I enjoyed writing it quite a bit, though I had trouble writing Baz's emotions. The boy is a weird self destructive mess and it's difficult getting that across lol. Finally, we learn a bit more about Simon. Plus some fluff, of course. Hope you all like it!

Tagging: @wayward-son-61​ @lunar-lover394​

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“Where are you going?”

I lazily turn towards Mordelia. She’s standing next to me with her arms behind her back, rocking on her heels. The picture of an adorable, unassuming child. You can hardly tell she's a brat.

“Out,” I reply.

“Mum says you go out too much.”

I do feel a bit bad about that. Daphne does legitimately care about my well being. “Well, you can tell her I’m not going out drinking. She can stop worrying.”

“Drinking what?”

I sigh. Right, she is still seven years old. “Nevermind. I’m just going to do schoolwork at someone’s house. I might be home for supper or not, I don’t know.”

“Okay. When can I ride on your motorbike?”

I smirk and buckle up my helmet. “Let's wait until you can reach the pedals. Then we’ll talk.”

Mordelia pouts pathetically. I ruffle her hair, which only makes her pout become an impressive scowl. I flip down my visor with flare and rev my engine. I give Mordelia a salute before driving off down the country road.

Simon’s house isn’t that far from mine, actually. Maybe a twenty minute ride, the way I break the speeding laws. I zip down the hill at ludicrous speeds, and keep that pace up across the country roads until they become moderately paved. Soon I’m on the sparse outskirts of Watford Cove, not the bloody fucking wilderness like mine. A much nicer place to live in my opinion.

Only a few minutes in, I arrive at the address Simon texted me. The house is actually quite posh. It’s not the terrible extravagance of the Pitch mansion of course, but it’s nice. Red brick, white shutters, some fancy curtains. There's a silver mailbox at the end of the drive with "Salisbury" painted on it in annoyingly bright green letters. The handwriting looks childish, as in a child probably wrote it. The initials "LS" are under the words like an artist's signature. Hm, interesting.

I park my bike in the driveway then make my way to the oak door. The doorbell chimes deep and loud. There’s some steps and soon it swings open. Oh. This is...not Simon. Because Simon is not an older greying-blonde woman.

This woman reminds me of portraits my own grandmother. She was also tall, straight backed, and respectful looking. But my grandmother never showed an ounce of happiness. This woman has a very kind smile on her face though, her wrinkles more from the expression rather than age.

“Hello,” she says kindly. “May I help you?”

“Um, I’m here to see Simon.”

Both her blue eyes and smile widen. “Oh right, Simon said you were coming. Simon! Your friend is here!”

There’s a crashing sound, like someone falling on the ground. Rapid steps come down the stairs until a beaming Simon jumps to the bottom.

“Hi Baz,” he says breathlessly. “Glad you found it.”

“I have Google Maps, Salisbury,” I deadpan, but with a smirk.

“Oh yeah, right, let’s go.” He motions for me to follow him inside. I nod to the woman. She looks up towards the stairs, hands on her hips.

“Simon,” she says with mock accusation, “are you not going to introduce me to your friend?”

Simon freezes halfway up the steps and whips his head around. “Oh right! Sorry, Gran. Um, Gran, this is Baz. Baz, this is my grandmother, Ruth Salisbury.”

I reach out my hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Salisbury.”

Her brows rise up in surprise. I suppose she didn’t expect politeness from a guy wearing a black Ramones shirt, leather jacket, and ear piercings. But she still takes my hand. “Pleasure to meet you as well, Baz. You two have fun.”

Simon scoffs. “It’s school, Gran. We’re not supposed to have fun.”

“School can be fun if you try, darling. Maths has made me very good at cards.”

“And you fleece Mrs. Jones every week at your games, I know. We gotta go.”

“Yes yes, go do your schoolwork. Don’t break anything.”

Simon and Ms. Salisbury smile good naturedly at each other as we go upstairs. He runs at a breakneck pace, nearly tripping over the green carpet. I follow more slowly, looking over the walls. Unlike my house, there are many personalised things. Landscape art, funny knick knacks, and some pictures. There’s one of Ms. Salisbury with an older man, who I assume to be her husband. Next to that, there’s the couple again but in their younger years. A boy and girl stand in the foreground, both as blonde as Ms. Salisbury. The last one at the top of the stairs is obviously the two kids as teenagers, grinning with arms around each other. The woman looks weirdly familiar. Her freckles, they remind me of...stars.

“Baz, c’mon!” Simon yells.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming. You’re quite bossy today, darling,” I say teasingly. I hear his gasp, then fall into a coughing fit.

“I-I just want to start working.” His voice is still a bit hoarse.

“Alright.”

I saunter down to the hall Simon went down. I step into his room, and...well, I’m not sure what else I expected. The bed and desk look old, but everything else is new. The floral blanket, the multicoloured rug, the IKEA shelf filled with comics, all quite fresh. The walls are bright blue and covered in posters. Troye Sivan, Lana del Ray, Hayley Kiyoko, and assorted pastel coloured art. Equally pastel clothes are spread out across the floor. The whole room is so...bright. It sort of hurts my eyes. I’d prefer everything a bit darker. I guess I like Simon’s colour palette in small doses, just not all in one room.

I look up. Simon’s at his desk. I finally notice that he’s wearing a new shirt. It’s like the sunflower one, but pink and with bright red rosebuds instead. It works with the copper undertones of his hair. He looks perfect in it.

“Pretty,” I whisper.

“What?” Simon asks sweetly.

Fuck, I hope my face isn’t as red as his shirt right now. “Um, nothing.”

He looks confused for only a moment then shrugs. “Okay. I woke up late and forgot breakfast, so I'm starving. Want some of this? For brain food and stuff.” He holds up a mint aero bar. My smile is instantaneous.

“Sure. Mint aeros are my favourite.”

He grins to his ears. “Mine too!

I sit in the chair next to him. He breaks off a large piece for me. We eat the chocolate at the same time, but Simon gets some around his mouth. (Of course he's a messy eater.) I want to slowly lick it off his cheek then kiss him so hard we run out of breath. I quickly look away to resist temptation. “So, you got the project up?”

“Oh yeah!” He turns back to his laptop. I see that the desk is covered in scribbly note paper, candy wrappers, and nail polish bottles. He’s got almost every colour in his preferred pastel shade. He’s actually wearing the pink one right now. It matches his shirt. I have to keep myself from making an out loud comment again.

“So I’ve started making the powerpoint,” Simon says, bringing up the application. “And I think we should start with Watership Down. The actual place. Cause it’s like, the most important setting right?”

I bite my tongue, because I...disagree. Strongly. Watership Down should be in the middle, because it is the end of their first journey and the beginning of the next. It’s important to illustrate that, I think. But he doesn’t know I would think that.

“Sure, cool,” I mutter.

“O-Okay. Then, uh, for characters, we should start with General Woundwort.”

Wrong, very wrong. He’s important, sure, but others should be discussed first. Maybe Hazel, Bigwig, or Fiver. Fuck, Bluebell should come before Woundwort.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” I hope there isn’t a strain in my voice.

“Awesome! And I thought for analysis, we could talk about the archetypes and shit.”

No! Archetypes are Jungian! We’re supposed to do Freudian! Oh, fuck it.

“Give me that,” I hiss, snatching the laptop away. Simon blinks at me confused. I type furiously, barely thinking really, just spouting out the knowledge I have onto the slides. Some of the stuff is very smart but not well put, so I redo the wording. Not good with words, just like Simon said. I don’t know how long it takes, but when I’m done, I put the laptop back on the desk with my arms crossed.

“There,” I say curtly.

Simon looks through it, jaw falling open wider and wider with every slide. I shift away. Christ, this is embarrassing.

“Holy shit,” Simon whispers. I wait for him to start laughing, or yelling because I change his work. But he just turns to me with big awe filled eyes. “You’re...really smart.”

My cheeks must be as red as tomatoes now. I scoff and look at the Hayley Kiyoko poster. “Yeah, whatever.”

“No, no, I mean it, Baz. This is bloody brilliant! You’re super smart!” His brow furrows. “Why do you never show up to class? You could be getting As in like, everything.”

I press my lips together, digging my nails into my bicep. “I don’t care about school or grades. That’s all.”

“Really? You just, don’t care?”

“No, I don’t.”

Simon sighs, and I hate how close to pity it sounds. I don’t need his pity or anyone else’s. I made my choice a long time ago, and I don’t regret it. Well, I mostly don’t regret it. Certainly don’t regret because of where I’m going when term is done. Not at all...

“So, uh,” Simon says rapidly, obviously trying to break the forming tension, “I'm also mostly done the drawings. I’ll scan them later and put them in the presentation if you like them.”

He pulls out a sketchbook from his desk and flips through the pages. He shoves it in my face once he’s found the right one, making me jolt back in my chair. I snatch it from him.

“Christ, Salisbury, let me actually look,” I chuckle.

“Oh, sorry, sorry.”

I look at the picture, and it’s my turn to be awestruck. It’s...amazing. Rough, raw, a bit messy, but amazing. He’s captured Watership Down in just pencil. Sure, it’s just a hill, but Simon has drawn it from the perspective of the rabbits, so it looks looming and majestic. There are little shapes at the top, and I realise it’s a few of the rabbits looking out into the distance. A cute and perfect addition.

“Wow, this is incredible,” I say with absolute reverence.

Simon blinks at me. He seems genuinely surprised. “R-Really?”

“Yes. You’re very talented, Simon.”

“Oh, uh, well, thanks. I’m...really glad you think so.” He fiddles with his fingers nervously. “There’s a-a couple more if you want to see them. Three pages after.”

I flip through a few more pages. There are a lot of rough, abstract sketches. They look more like feelings than specific things. Waves of smoke, angry scribbles of pencil, over and over. He must do that a lot. Eventually, I land on what I think I'm supposed to see. It's obviously Fiver, based on the photo he showed me. But it's not an exact replica. It's a gorgeous interpretation. He's emphasized Fiver's large, sad, all knowing eyes. You can almost see everything terrifying and wonderful happening in them. To say I’m impressed doesn’t really cover it.

I go to the next page, and I immediately recognise it as a scene from the animated movie. When El Ahrairah, the first rabbit, was given physical gifts to survive predators from their fictitious god Frith. This one is in colour, and somehow even more stylised than the movie. El Ahrairah himself is a deep rich brown with grey loops, the sun is swirl of orange and yellow, and the sky is ripples of vibrant blue. The same colour as his eyes.

“These,” I say, “are perfect, Simon.”

Simon chuckles nervously, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m glad you think so. Think Miss Possibelf will approve?”

“If she doesn’t, she’s completely incompetent. And I don’t think that’s true.” I absentmindedly turn to the next page. It’s the start of another unfinished drawing. It’s of someone’s face. Someone with sharp cheekbones and dark wavy hair. Wait, is that-

Simon snatches the book and quickly flips it closed. He hides half his scarlet face behind the leather cover for a long moment, until he nervously coughs and lowers it. “Okay, good,” he stutters. “Glad you think so. I, uh, guess we’re done now. Man, we really could just do most of this over text.” Mother of God, must he keep doing that hair tuck? It’s torture.

“I suppose that's true," I chuckle.

"Wanna hang out?" He asks very quickly, gripping his sketchbook with ghost white knuckles.

I shouldn't. Fuck, I really shouldn't. I should go home, avoid him, keep my toxic self far away from Simon. But fucking hell, I'm weak for this boy, and just weak in general.

"Sure." My voice stays impressively neutral. "Any ideas?"

Simon twists his lips, looking around the brightly coloured room. His eyes drift down to my hands and he smiles mischievously. “I could redo your nails.”

I look down at my hands. Well, my nails are definitely chipped. I forgot to repaint them a few days ago. I look back at him with a raised brow. “I doubt you have a bottle of my ‘Chanel Le Vernis in Gris Obscur’, Salisbury.”

“Nah, definitely no Chanel. But I got some pretty good stuff from the drugstore.” He lifts up some obviously cheap but pretty nail varnish bottles. They’re all his pastels colours though.

“Not really my style.”

He shrugs. “Maybe you’d like to try something new?”

I bite the corner of my mouth. The colours hurt my eyes a bit. But he looks so adorable with that hopeful grin and glint in his eyes. I sigh, and put my left hand out. “Very well. I want your darkest shade though.”

Simon literally bounces with excitement. “Awesome! So, uh, how about...” He messes around with the bottles, almost dropping a few. Eventually he settles on a pale blue. “This one, and,” he holds up a unused looking dark grey, “this one? We can alternate.”

“Hm, sure. That grey doesn’t really match your style, though.”

He shrugs. “Eh, came with the set. Glad it did. It, uh, matches your eyes.” He looks pointedly at the desk instead of my face. That’s good though. I don’t want him to see the blush that’s spread across my cheeks. “Now gimme your right hand.”

I do as he says, placing it on the desk. He puts down some paper towel then pick up his nail polish remover and cotton balls. I have the exact same supplies at home. He reaches towards my hand, but quickly hesitates. He’s shaking actually. I can’t blame him. Every time we’ve touched, it’s been accidental or very quickly. This is different. This isn't a shoulder pat or playful shove. This is long and sustained and purposeful. And I may not be showing it, but I’m just as nervous.

“I can take it off myself,” I say quickly, reaching for the bottle. But Simon pulls it away.

“No no, I’m good. Just sit there and look...badass, alright?”

My lip twitches up. He’s so sweet. I leave my hand where it is. “Very well.”

Slowly, shakily, he slips his finger under mine. His skin is callused but still much smoother than my rough palms. It feels weird, but very nice. Almost electric. He dabs the cotton ball on the nail, rubbing off all my high end black nail polish. Huh, they look odd. it’s been awhile since my nails have been clean. After wiping them dry, he starts on with the blue. It’s a nice colour. Not something I would pick, but I can see the appeal. Simon drags the brush against my nail slowly but surely, making sure the coat is even.

“Hm,” I say, “you’re good at this.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “Self taught. A lot of trial and error, y’know? Took me ages to figure out how to do my right hand.”

“I learned from YouTube videos. Those makeup gurus know their shit.”

“Huh, smart. Oh, y’know what.” He stops painting and spins in his chair. Even with his back to me, I now he’s fiddling with his phone. Suddenly, the honeyed voice of Lana Del Rey is resonating through the room. He spins back with a grin.

“Your weird music is necessary?” I raise an eyebrow for sarcastic emphasis. Simon chuckles.

“Yeah, helps me concentrate. And it’s part of my continuing effort to convert you to good music.”

“Oh, is that your grand mission?”

“Yup! Slowly pull you away from all those screamy boys with bad haircuts and towards the beauty of Troye and Lana.”

I scoff. “You keep trying that, darling.”

He gives me a shy but sort of playful look from under his long eyelashes. “I certainly will...darling.”

Oh shit. I hope my complexion hides my blush enough. I smile back and try to look calm, hiding the storm in my chest.

We switch between chatting and companionable silence. Though Simon is never truly quiet. He hums along with the song, or makes noises of contemplation and frustration while trying to get my nails right. His hands slowly get less shaky, which helps. When we’re not talking, I take the opportunity to just watch his expression. How he sticks his tongue out in concentration, and his brow pulls together, and his face adorable pinches together when he gets something wrong. He always tries his best to fix it though, even with his clumsy fingers. It’s really sweet. Just like him.

I'm so unbelievably fucked.

“And...there!” He pulls back with a flourish. “Topcoat and everything. What do you think?”

I examine my hands. Huh, the blue is actually nice on me. And he’s right, the grey matches my eyes. It’s very well done. Maybe black isn’t the only colour I should use. I look up. Simon is staring at me wide eyed, chewing on his lip, leg jittering.

“It’s wonderful,” I say. “You did a marvelous job, Salisbury. Maybe you have a future as a nail artist.”

His nervous expression breaks, thankfully. I’ve found I prefer his grin to his genuine agitation. Blushing smile? Adorable. Wide eyed leg jittering? Not so much. “T-Thanks. Maybe...you could do mine sometime?”

Our eyes meet, and there’s no deception there. He’s always so genuine. It’s amazing. “Sure," I say before thinking. "If you can learn to like black.”

She shrugs. “Well, if you can learn to like blue, I guess I can try black.”

He grins, and I grin back. There’s a stretch of silence. It builds between us, making the air thicker and thicker. I’m torn between what I want to say and what I should. That I want more from this, more than just winks and smiles and “darlings”. But I know it can’t work. Simon should know that. I should tell him, all of it. But...he'll hate me. For not telling him about Switzerland, for using him like a plaything, for being an utterly stupid reckless prick. Can I handle him truly hating me?

“Simon, love! It’s nearly supper! Are you and Baz done your work?” Ms. Salisbury’s voice carries quite well. It jolts me from my depressive pit. Simon sighs and leans out towards the door.

“Yeah! Be down in a minute, Gran.” He looks at me, and I swear I see genuine sadness. “Looks like it’s time to say goodbye.”

I try to hide my own disappointment. “Yeah, looks like it.”

He bounces out of his chair, then offers his hand. I inhale sharply. Did not expect that. But after only a second of hesitation, I take it. He pulls me to my feet with ease. I’m still disturbed by how much his strength excites me.

“C’mon, let’s get you back on your motorbike, Pitch.”

“Should get you on it one day,” I say under my breath.

“What?”

I straighten up, hands in my jacket pockets. “Nothing, Salisbury.”

We walk down the stairs quickly. Well, Simon more jumps down them. He’s a never ending ball of energy. Ms. Salisbury is at the bottom.

“How was the work, you two?” she asks sweetly.

“Wonderful!” Simon chirps. “Talked about bunnies and stuff, and Baz let me do his nails.”

My brow shoots up to my hairline. I can’t believe he’s so open about this. If I told my father or Daphne the same, they would not say anything at best and lecture me at worst. But Ms. Salisbury looks positively elated by Simon’s words. “Oh, marvellous. Finally you can practice on someone other than me, love.”

Simon rolls his eye. “Yeah, like you don’t like it.”

“Of course. But it’s good you have another guinea pig. May I see your work?”

Simon looks at me in silent question. I shrug in response, then hold out my hand for his grandmother. She flips the glasses down from her head. “Amazing job, Simon. You’ve gotten so much better. And it looks great on you, Baz.”

“Thank you, Ms. Salisbury.”

She pulls away, waving dismissively. “Please, call me Ruth. Now, Baz, will you be staying for dinner?”

“Uh.” I turn to Simon. “Am I staying for dinner, Simon?”

Simon’s face turns red. “Oh, sure, if you want.”

I shrug. “I’m certainly in no rush to get home, and if it’s no trouble.”

“Oh it’s none at all,” Ms. Salis- Ruth says, waving her hand dismissively.

“Then I guess I’ll stay for supper.”

Ruth claps her hand once loudly. “Wonderful! Let me put out another setting.”

She saunters off to the kitchen. I decide to actually take off my jacket and boots and stay awhile. Simon leans in close to my ear, making my pulse spike.

“Hope you like roast beef,” he whispers. “It’s the only thing Gran knows how to cook well. Grandpa was a chef, and she’s been on her own since he died, so she’s never had to cook anything else. But she’s been learning more since I’ve got here.”

I shrug like he does. “I think I’ll live.”

“Good to hear.”

Simon leads me to the small dining room table. When I go to the left side, Simon grabs my hand and drags me to the right. I jolt slightly. Wow, that’s bold for him. Not that I’m complaining. I sit next to him as Ruth brings out a platter of delicious smelling meat and mash potatoes. Simon immediately shovels the food on his plate, licking his lips like a starving animal. I on the other hand take only a few slices delicately just like my mother taught me. But Ruth gives me an odd look.

“Are you not hungry, Baz?” she asks.

“Um, no, I am,” I reply slowly.

“Then please, take as much as you like. I always make a lot because of Simon’s endless appetite.”

Simon rolls his eyes, speaking with a mouth full of roast beef. “I’m a growing boy!”

“Growing monster more like it,” Ruth chuckles.

Huh, okay. I decide to be polite and take some more. Dinner proper starts, and it's...weird. My family is never this talkative at supper. We’re mostly silent and sullen. But the Salisburies are the exact opposite. Ruth and Simon chat, though Simon has trouble responding through all the the food in his mouth. (The boy has zero manners. It’s adorable.)

“So, Baz,” Ruth asks, facing me, “how’s school for you? I’ve only ever heard about it from Simon and Miss Penelope.”

No one’s ever asked my opinion of school either. I shrug. “It’s alright. Not my favourite place to be, of course. I think English is my favourite subject.” I tap Simon’s foot under the table. His breath hitches slightly, and he flashes me only a small smile. But it’s enough.

“Glad to hear so. Simon loves English too. He’s always eager to get to first period for Miss Possibelf’s class every morning.”

I flick my eyes over to Simon. His cheeks are flushed as he bites into his roast beef.

“Hm, glad to hear I’m not the only one who loves literature.” I let my voice drawl a bit, hopefully enough for Simon to notice but not Ruth. He doesn’t look up from his food, but I feel his toe tap my foot. And once again, it’s enough. Everything Simon does seems to be enough for me.

“I’m just glad Simon’s adjusting to Watford,” Ruth sighs. “It’s not easy moving schools most of the way through the year.”

Simon sighs in return. They sound almost exactly alike. Though Simon is more exasperated. “I told you, Gran, I’m fine. My grades are much better than last term.”

“There’s a good reason for that.” Ruth aggressively stabs her beef, and Simon looks sad as he nods slightly. This is the only crack in Ruth's kind demeanour I’ve seen all day. It’s strange, and the curious brainiac in me wants to know more. But the sensible part knows to just keep eating my food.

“Hey,” Simon chirps, “did I tell you about the kid who gave himself a wedgie in gum class yet?”

Ruth’s playful smile immediately returns. “No, I don’t believe you have.”

“Oh man, it was hilarious! Baz you’ll love this too.”

I lean my cheek into my palm. “I’m sure I will.”

Simon launches into the rambling anecdote, using mostly weird noises and illustrative hand gestures instead of words. Ruth and I both laugh along genuinely. This is the first time I’ve enjoyed a family meal in ages. It may be unusual, but it’s certainly not unenjoyable.

Soon enough, dinner is over, and Ruth brings out dessert. They’re sour cherry scones from Pritchard Bakery. Simon takes three immediately and starts slathering butter all over them.

“You like scones?” I ask mockingly.

Simon nods, scone crumbs all around his mouth. “Uh-huh. Gran got me some my first day here. They’re absolutely incredible.”

“My cousin owns the bakery, you know.”

His eyes go impossibly wide. “Really?! Could you get me some free samples?”

I shrug, a playful smile on my face. “Maybe.”

“Simon, you eat enough, you don’t need any more,” Ruth kindly berates. Simon frowns.

“There’s never enough scones, Gran.”

Ruth and I exchange an understanding look. Maybe I will bring him to see Cousin Pritchard before I go though. Something to make him happy before I’m gone.

Soon enough, Simon’s eaten all the scones, the dishes are done, and it’s my time to go. I’m a gentleman, I know when to take my leave. Simon and Ruth walk me out of the house.

“It was lovely having you, Baz,” Ruth says. And I have to admit, I’m a bit taken aback. Most parents and/or guardians aren’t this friendly to me. Dev and Niall’s parents barely acknowledge my existence nowadays, and they’ve known me since I was a baby. It’s a warm feeling I never thought I’d miss.

“Thank you for having me, Ruth,” I reply, smiling graciously.

“Anytime. Simon, feel free to invite him over again.”

Simon smiles sweetly at me, cheeks unabashedly scarlet. “Yeah, okay. Maybe we should meet up before the presentation on Wednesday?”

I nod, hoping my cheeks aren’t as bright. “I think I’d like that.”

Because I would. I regretfully very much would.

“Awesome! See you later!”

My lip twitches up without thinking. “See you.”

I get my helmet on. I don’t rev my engine as loud as usual to be respectful. Simon waves with his entire arm, while Ruth’s looks more like the queen. I salute in return. (That seems to be my thing now. I’ve embraced it.)

As I drive back towards my home, my mind stays with the Salisburies. With nail polish, roast beef, and a sense of peaceful happiness that lingers in me long after the house is in the distance.

I get to the Pitch hill and just sit there, looking up at the looming little bastard. I know what I’m supposed to do. Go back to all the misery there. But fuck that. I turn to the left, not back towards Simon’s, but at least somewhere my father isn’t. Somewhere I can keep this feeling for a little longer. And maybe get really pissed.

———————————————-

“Basilton! Where have you been?!”

If I didn’t already have a migraine, I’d assume my father’s voice had just given me one. Going on a two day bender will do that to you. I stop walking but don’t turn around. Honestly, I look like a wreck right now, and I don’t want him to see it.

“Away,” I say curtly.

“Away where?! We haven’t seen you in days! No calls, no mail. We’ve been worried sick!”

I groan and turn on my heels finally. To my utter surprise, he looks genuinely concerned. His eyes are wide and his hair is disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it. Huh. Actually worried about where I’ve been. That’s a first.

“Well, I’m home now,” I sigh. “Happy?”

“Certainly not.” He puts his hands on his hips like a pissed off school teacher. “I’ve been getting calls from your school. You’ve missed almost all of your classes, including tests and projects. I thought we had an agreement.”

I whip around, scowling with as much menace as I can muster with a hangover. “No, you gave me an ultimatum. And I refuse to be threatened into doing what you want, Father dearest.”

I start stomping away again, but we Grimms refuse to not have the last word. “Are you sure you haven’t just been...distracted, Basilton?”

I stop halfway up the stairs. The tone of his voice could imply many things, but I have a sinking feeling I know what he means. I chuckle, shaking my head. “Daphne told you about Tuesday, I suppose.”

“That you brought a boy over to our house without our knowledge? Yes. And I find it a bit disrespectful that-”

“That I what?!” I yell, probably louder than I should, considering it’s late at night and I have four younger siblings. “Dare to be gay?! Sorry it’s harder to ignore my sexuality when I’m actually acting on it.”

My father takes a deep breath, something he always does when he’s trying to keep his slipping composure. “Basilton, that is not what I meant.”

“Oh really? So you’re actually okay with me bringing guys around? Maybe I’ll start having big gay nightclub parties in the receiving room.”

I can see my father losing his cool. Bit by bit, his perfect British man composure is slipping. It’s the effect I certainly have these days. “That would not be appropriate, Basil. And I merely meant that maybe this ‘Simon’ is distracting you from your studies and causing your poor grades.”

For a second, I don’t know whether to laugh or be furious. Fire bubbles in my gut, my fingers curling on the bannister. Yup, let’s go with righteous fury. I stomp down the stairs and push my face into his.

“No,” I growl, “Simon is not at fault. You are. You are the catalyst for all the things I’m doing now, Your bullheadedness, your pride, your prejudi-”

“Oh for God’s sake, Basil!” He roars. “For once in your life take some goddamn responsibility for your own actions!”

I step back a bit. I haven’t seen him this outwardly angry in a year, but he’s practically seething. If he was the kind of man to throw a punch, he would have just clocked me. But instead he just stares me down in an attempt to intimidate. That won’t work.

“Fuck you,” I mutter, turning on my heels and stomping towards the door.

“Where are you going?” he calls after me.

“Out!” I turn to glare at him. “And I’ll be back when I feel like it!”

I make sure to slam the door very loudly, hoping my message is clear. I know exactly where I want to go. And who I want to see.

———————————————- 

AN: Is Baz being a total brat here? Yes. Is his bratiness sorta justified? Also yes. Things are complicated. And finally we meet Ruth! I loved reading everyone's comments speculating about Simon's home life cause this was planned from the start lol. But why is Simon living with Ruth? Well, that will be explained shortly. Tune in next time for answers :)

Chapter title is from "Alfie's Song" by Bleachers.

[doctorsorders-deathboy]

Cake

Based on the one word prompt “Cake” sent in by @rainyclodstoday (ty!!).  I seriously considered writing a fic based on the Melanie Martinez song but decided, "NO! NO ANGST. ONLY FLUFF," and I ended up with this. I hope you enjoy :)

Summary: There are few problems chocolate and a considerate boyfriend can't fix. Even if it's the middle of the night.

Word Count: 1259

Read on ao3

Nico had always enjoyed solitude. No matter how happy he was or how many people there were in his life that he cared about, alone time had always been important to him. Will apologized sometimes for always being so busy but Nico didn’t mind all that much. Will made an effort to spend as much time with Nico as possible despite the fact that he was working his ass off to become a doctor, and Nico appreciated that. They had fallen into a rhythm in their relationship that they were both happy with.

Nico regularly got plenty of time to himself in their apartment while Will was at school and interning. The longest of these times was Monday nights, when Will had to stay out until 10pm, which meant it was usually the most productive time for Nico.

Nico would get the bulk of his own schoolwork done and usually managed to clean a bit of their apartment before burrowing in their bed and reading or watching some TV. One Monday, Nico found himself so engrossed in a history documentary that he barely registered the door opening from across the apartment.

“Hey,” Nico called out a few moments later, once his brain had processed the noise he’d heard.

“Hey,” came the half-hearted response.

Nico frowned but didn’t move. It wasn’t unusual for Will to be tired on Monday night. It was routine for him to get ready for bed before cuddling next to Nico and venting a bit if he needed it.

Sure enough, Will appeared in the bedroom and moved to grab his pajamas like he did every Monday. His eyes were redder than usual, though, causing Nico to turn down the volume on the TV.

“You okay?”

Will sighed as he began to change. “I didn’t get the internship,” he admitted after a short silence.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Nico tried to sound as sincere as he could as he wracked his brain for details surrounding said internship. He could recall Will talking about it previously but couldn’t remember any specifics. He’d been more focused on helping Will study and prepare for his upcoming tests. The internship application hadn’t felt like such a big deal in the long run.

“It’s just frustrating,” Will continued, “because the guy who got it doesn’t have nearly as many qualifications as I do. He just got the internship because he knows the right people. He didn’t put in half as much work as most of the applicants did.”

Will left to brush his teeth before coming back and getting in bed next to Nico, who turned off the TV and rolled over to face Will.

“I don’t know. I’ve just had a lot on my plate lately and to see this jackass just get handed what he wants without having to do much to get it… It was the last straw, I guess.”

Nico smiled at him sympathetically, pushing a golden curl out of his face. “I’m sorry. But hard work’s going to get you a lot farther in the long run. This guy might be able to accomplish some things while slacking but he won’t get far. Your brain’s going to accomplish much more.”

Will smiled tiredly. “Thanks, Nico.”

Nico kissed him on the forehead. “Do you want some tea or something?”

“No, thanks. I just need sleep.”

Nico nodded and rolled over to turn out the light before facing Will again. “You’re kicking ass, you know. I can’t believe the amount of work you put in every week without keeling over.”

Will laughed shortly. “No, I definitely end up keeling over.”

Nico smiled at him in the darkness. “Goodnight, Will.”

“Night, Nico.”

~*~

Sometime in the middle of the night, the bed shifted as Will got up to go to the bathroom. Nico grumbled in his sleep at the minor disruption before hearing sniffling. He cracked his eyes open to see Will leaving the room before getting up and following him.

Nico went out to the hall where yellow light shone from beneath the bathroom door. He knocked softly. “Will?”

Will gave a small laugh, but his voice was strained. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay. Can I come in?” There was no response, which Nico knew to take as a yes. He slipped into the room and sat across from Will, who was sitting against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chest. “What’s wrong?” Nico asked softly. He tried to meet Will’s eyes, which were trained insistently on the floor.

Will let out another shaky laugh and moved his hand up to wipe at his eyes. “I don’t know. Everything. I’m just so stressed and I know I need sleep but my mind’s racing and I don’t… I don’t know.”

Nico reached out and took Will’s hands in his own. “Can I get you anything?”

Will shrugged noncommittally but didn’t pull away from Nico’s hands. “Chocolate would be great,” he quipped.

Nico raised an eyebrow at that. “Hm. I’m going to remind you of this moment the next time you go on one of your health shopping sprees. Chocolate heals, not kale.”

This time, Will’s laugh held a bit of its normal joy and his smile felt more genuine. “Fair enough.”

Nico pulled him up and led him to the kitchen where he began searching their cupboards. “What the hell happened to our chocolate?” he asked after searching for a minute.

Will shrugged sleepily. “Dunno. Did you eat it all?”

Probably.

Shit.

“Aha!” Nico exclaimed, victoriously pulling a package out and setting it on the counter.

Will raised his brows. “Cocoa powder?”

“Don’t give me that look, it’s the best we’ve got.”

“Nico, I don’t think you can make hot chocolate with this stuff.”

“I know that. We’re making chocolate cake.”

Nico turned away from Will’s skeptical expression and began to gather the other ingredients they’d need.

“Nico?”

“Yes?”

“It’s 1am.”

Nico sighed, setting a large bowl down on the counter. He looked at Will tiredly. “Are you saying you don’t want to?”

There was a short silence before Will exhaled. “Fine, but you’re cleaning up.”

~*~

Two hours later, the kitchen was a wreck, but the smell coming from the oven made it worth it.

“How edible do you think it’ll be?” Will asked as Nico pulled the cake from the oven.

“Edible enough.” Nico set the pan down on the counter and went to grab plates.

“Nico, wait, it needs to cool. If we try to cut it now, it’ll fall apart.”

Nico yawned. “I’m not waiting for frosting. I’m not waiting for cooling. I’m eating and then I’m going to bed.”

A spatula turned out to be the best utensil for scraping the cake out of the pan and onto plates, and a spoon was best for eating it. Will and Nico laughed as they struggled to get servings onto their plates.

“They weren’t kidding when they said college is crazy,” Will joked. “We’re eating cake with a spoon. At 3am. On a Monday.”

“Tuesday,” Nico corrected.

“Mm.” Will took another bite. “On the bright side, this is very much edible.”

Nico hummed in agreement. “You feeling any better now?”

“Oh, I’m feeling great at the moment. I will definitely hate myself, though, when I’m trying to make it through the day with hardly any sleep.”

Nico yawned. “Gods, me too.”

“Nico?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Nico smiled sleepily. “Of course.”

“The next time you’re feeling sad, I’ll make you a cake in the middle of the night, too.”

Nico laughed. “Gods, please don’t.”

[blacknovelist]

A Place to Be - BNHA Fic (Epilogue)

I finished this earlier, but then I wanted to wait and post it later after proofing, except then I got distracted cutting out like, fifty paper stars and watching Car Boys on my phone, so... whoops.

I mentioned at chapter 3 that I have a lot of feelings about this whole thing. This chapter/epilogue is my way of offering a little bit of happiness for everyone involved. And, I’m not going to copy-paste what I said on ffnet and Ao3 here because it would make this much too long, but I have some words about it, so. If you want, go read one of those notes too.

Really I just wanted to have a nice conclusion behind everything. Chapter 4 was the self-indulgent feel-good dad might, so here’s the rest of my feelings after everything. It was so much fun writing this fic! And I do love it! Hearing everyone commenting was so great and it made me really happy! but its probably not something i’m going to do again unless I go about planning its posting schedule a lot better, lmao. Thanks for being ridiculously patient with my antics! (^‿^)

[AO3] [ffnet]

[Ch. 1] [Ch. 2] [Ch. 3] [Ch. 4] [Epilogue]

Epilogue:

If the day after tomorrow is "overmorrow", would the day after that be "over-overmorrow"?

It took three days for the grapevine, customarily twisted and distorted from it's humble beginnings​, to finally make its way back to 1-A during lunch. Which was impressive, when one thought about who they had on their side in the art of gossip collection, but let the technicalities be technicalities.

"Did you hear about the dude who snuck into the dorms?" One student said as they went. The twenty ears of their class perked up in unison. "They posed as a kid's dad and tried pulling them out."

Another chortled, "no way, wasn't it an actual parent?"

"I heard," said a third, "it was a thug who got hold of an ID from a parent and tried to cause trouble."

"Pff, as if!"

Outwardly, Izuku didn't react to the conversation, but to the rest of them as they made their way to the cafeteria, the hunch in his shoulders and how he looked away was clear as day. Iida had half a mind to tell them off from their unprofessional behavior concerning word-of-mouth when someone stepped between them.

"That's enough gossip from you," Aizawa interrupted, waving a hand, and class 1-A stared - the pro hero was never in the halls or cafeteria when he could help it. "Go and get lunch. Sit down, stop loitering and blocking the way. Shoo."

The others slunk off, and, path clear again, Yaoyorozu led the way forward. They nodded at their teacher as they passed, Kirishima flashing him a bright smile; he simply blinked. Eyes stayed on them as they rounded the corner before Aizawa turned back towards his classroom, coming face to face with Present Mic.

"Yo, Aizawa!" He grinned. "So, it's been a few days. Is your ban on visiting the kids at the dorms lifted yet, or do I have to wait for the next lesson?"

Aizawa thought of the sheets draped over every chair and couch and tall table available, the surplus furniture shoved aside where errant limbs couldn't reach, the dead-asleep faces of his students and coworker as they snoozed in the middle of the room.

"Give it another day before you ask me again," he replied, and walked away.

"Ugh." Kaminari slumped into his chair. "I can't believe Midnight-sensei is giving us these big projects out of nowhere and making them due in three days. How are we supposed to do them that quickly?!"

"It's not that bad. All we actually have to do is pick something that's not well-known and do half a paper about it," Ojiro pointed out.

"Yeah, but why?"

"Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it." Shouji said.

Jirou grinned. "You don't want to be stuck in remedial lessons because you didn't want to do a tiny assignment, do you?"

"Hey hey hey, who said anything about not doing it?! Come on!"

They all grinned and laughed as Kaminari moved on to begging for help, practically throwing himself over the table. Trays were shifted and shoved out of the way without a single blink.

"Oh relax, you drama queen." Ashido stuck her tongue out, stealing a handful of edamame from one of the trays and crunching two at a time. "Of course we won't let you hold us back by failing in class that badly."

"That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence, you know."

Sero shooed Ashido's hand away as she came back for seconds. "Hey, we're a class, aren't we? We're gonna be graduate and become heroes together."

"Whether we like it or not," Hagakure added. "So we might as well make sure we're good heroes while we're at it, right?"

"Well," Tsuyu said, "I hope accidentally getting stuck in trees and balconies isn't part of that help, or no one's going to want to ask for it."

"That happened once."

There was a round of snickering. Kirishima glanced at Izuku, who was shaking over his lunch, then grinned at Kaminari. "Seriously man, relax," he said, slinging an arm over Bakugou's shoulders. "It would be unmanly of us to leave you when you're asking us for help! I bet Midnight-sensei will let us swing working together as long as we all do our own things like she said. Right, Bakugou?"

"Get your arm off me, shitty hair."

"See, even Bakugou agrees with me!"

"SINCE FUCKING WHEN!?"

Uraraka and Izuku snorted in tandem, spluttering into their tea and rice, which only sent them into another fit of laughter. Beside them, Tokoyami gave an amused huff.

"What a mad, chaotic banquet this is."

"...Yes, of course. I trust my kids, and I can hardly say I do not trust one of their parents, but you must understand that it's my job to keep their needs and wants in mind, as one of their teachers and supervisors. I'm certain they'll think it's far too soon, with such an event fresh in their memories, but how about I bring the possibility up with them?" Toshinori nodded. "Excellent. I will inform you of the verdict when I can. Thank you."

He hung up, sighing. Business calls were never fun, and that particular call was no exception. Should I ask them all at once, or individually...?

Only a few of his students were lingering inside as the afternoon started to fade, Satou playing with the oven in the kitchen and Mineta, Todoroki and Izuku gathered around one of the tables. The latter two were hunched over schoolwork while Mineta tried getting their attention by "regaling" them with his "exploits". This would've worked better if he wasn't so into his story that he sounded incomprehensible to anything with ears, and if either of them actually cared.

As it was, they simply nodded whenever it seemed like they should, despite not hearing a word coming out of his mouth.

Izuku glanced at the clock. "Ah, sorry, guys." He shuffled everything into his hands. "It's a little early but there was something I wanted to do, so I'm gonna head up for now."

"Sure thing, Midoriya." Todoroki looked up. "Have a good night."

"Aw, you sure you wanna go up now?" Mineta drooled. "I was just about to get to the best part-"

"YesI'msurethankyou." Izuku shot up. "Good night, guys!" He spun around and nearly sprinted across the room. Mineta shrugged.

"Well, it's his loss. As I was saying-"

"Actually, I should be heading up soon as well."

Izuku sighed as Todoroki made his own escape, bustling past with a brief nod. He looked up to meet Toshinori's eyes, and grinned sheepishly.

Toshinori smiled back. "I'll see you in the morning, my boy. Have a good night."

"Ah, yeah! I will!" Izuku paused in his step, smile growing wider. "Good night, dad!"

Toshinori's brain shut down. Izuku had scampered off, which meant that the only witnesses to Toshinori's gradual return to cognitive function and his bliss as he returned to his room were a clock, the various chairs and tables, and Mineta.

Yes, Toshinori would definitely have a good night.

Izuku stood before his mother's door, green and blue unevenly glowing and fading in the hallway lights and afternoon sun. He'd spent the past few days thinking about this, making a decision, but now that he was here the anxiety churning in his gut gave him pause.

'...I don't have to take it onto myself to rebuild the bridge between us on my own. That's not my job, when neglect is what burned it down. That's okay...'

He shook his head, repeating the thoughts that had pushed him to come over and over like a mantra, and knocked. At the muffled call, he pushed the door open gently.

"Hi, mom."

"Izuku, sweetie!" Inko looked up from her drink. The UA room they'd given her was more than she really needed, with it's double bed and spacious closet, the desk pushed against one wall, the loveseat she sat in and a couch framing the coffee table. "Are you okay? How was class? Do you need anything?"

"I'm doing fine, mom. Class went well!" Izuku beamed for a moment. "But, um, do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Of course not." She shuffled a few papers and her teacup out of the way as he came in, headed for the seat across from her. Even when she split her nights between staying at home and staying at the dorms, Inko made the room feel lived-in. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, it's nothing big or important like that, really! It's, uh, it's just..." Izuku faltered. A tide of this is a terrible idea started to well up inside him, telling him to take this back, to forget about it.

Then he took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and pushed that doubt away.

'...Still, if I want to, I can meet him halfway. Everyone will stand by me, no matter what I decide. Whether he comes back or not is up to him. That's alright. And, regardless...'

"Mom, can you tell me more about my, um, dad? My birth father?"

Inko paused, studying his face. Then, she smiled.

"Yes, of course I can. Where should I start?"

:...There are still questions I want to have the answers to, if I can. Someday, maybe you'll be here to answer them.'

[rue-by-another-name]

“Flat out” -h.s. Part 2

Part 1

-----

-----

Waking up the morning of your birthday, you tried to keep your nerves in check. You expected pancakes and coffee in the least, but nothing too fancy. Instead, you found a quiet flat thanks to a very still asleep Harry. You didn’t blame him for that though, considering you had a pretty early class anyway. Who would want to get up at 6:30am willingly? 

So you made your own coffee and dressed for school. You wouldn’t be on campus much today anyway, but more in the courthouse. Your professor was working a case, a very high profile case, and you had been asked to be his consulting student. You were very excited about it, but due to the nature of the case and the amount of thugs you were sure you’d encounter, you’d yet to tell Harry about it. He could get protective of this kind of thing, and you didn’t want to have to worry about his feelings and the case at the same time. 

Harry was still asleep when you left, smoothing out your dress as you heels clicked down the hall on the way to the elevator. You’d get a ‘Happy Birthday’ text, you were sure. That at the very least. 

The courthouse was busy with reporters and journalists all awaiting their daily scoop. This was the murder trial of Joseph diTorino. And, as any mobster, there was quite a lot of speculation around the case. Luckily, you were defending Mr. diTorino, but instead the wife of the man whose son had been found shot dead and strung up in an alley - in typical mob fashion of course. 

All good fun.

You once again smoothed out your dress and made your way towards your professor.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” your professor nodded as you met with him in the hall. Professor Trent was a strict elderly man who you’d found was actually quite welcoming and supportive if you got on his good side. His good side included basically killing yourself over your work to prove that you’re a good student and an impeccable taste for coffee. You’d had him every single semester you’d been on campus and you’d spent quite some time in his office over the past couple of years pouring over his books and trying your best to talk your way out of the questions he had marked wrong but you were willing to protest were right.

“Hi Professor Trent. Where’s Mrs. Antonelli?” The poor widow was always running late, and you didn’t blame her for wanting to put off more time in a cramped room with her son’s killer. Her son, Bobby, was no older than you were, so you couldn’t help but think that what if that had been Harry, in another life, strung up in that street? You shuddered at the thought.

“Have you gone over the notes for today?” Professor Trent asked over the rim of his to-go coffee cup. He was scrolling through something vigorously on his iPhone, a device he barely understood but refused to ask for any help over. 

“Yes. I have. I’ve got everything down and have gone over your propositions and points for the day.”

“And what do you think about them?”

“Well -” You launched into your theories and ideas and plans of attack, watching closely as Professor Trent nodded at some points and furrowed his brow at others.

“You really have gone over these notes,” he nodded to you, “Good work.”

“Thank you sir. I just want Mrs. Antonelli to get the closure she deserves.”

“Well we should be going in,” Professor Trent nodded over your shoulder to Mrs. Antonelli as she made her way quickly down the hall. “And Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Yes sir?”

“Happy Birthday.”

--

You were starting to become immune to the pictures of Bobby strung up in a street and left for dead. You’d seen them so many times, studied them intently for any clues to give diTorino away. But you never got over the soft sighs and inhales of breath from Mrs. Antonelli every time they were shown. You desperately wanted to reach out and grasp for her hand, but you knew that was unprofessional. 

Come lunch time the session took a break, and you excused yourself out into the hallway as you checked your phone. You had texts from your parents and some from your friends, your best friend from school Felicity had called you three times before sending you an aggressive birthday text asking how drunk you wanted to get tonight. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

You also had a missed call from Harry, and so you called him back first, because you figured that maybe this was the apology for not being awake when you left. 

“Oh my gosh thank God you finally called. Where have you been?”

“School?” You furrowed your eyebrow and found yourself pulling at your lower lip, an annoying habit you’d picked up from Harry as you listened to him huff in annoyance.

“I needed you here,” he whined, “I didn’t want to call Maggie without you on hand in case I made a bloody fool of myself.”

“Oh,” you felt your heart sinking, “Well, um ... did you?”

“Yes! Yes I finally did. I know I said I was going to last night but then I figured she was probably sleeping because, you know, school night and all. But I called and asked and she sounded very excited to come over. So she’s going to come over tonight, is that okay?”

“Um, well I won’t be there. I’m busy tonight,” you decided. You didn't know if this was maybe some sick game Harry was playing where he really sold the whole ‘I forgot your birthday here’s your surprise party’ thing, but you were tired of it. 

“What? You’re never busy. Are you going to be studying or something?” Harry asked. You could hear him going about things in the background, and could tell he wasn’t fully invested in the conversation.

“Felicity and I are celebrating something tonight. I won’t be there.”

“Oh. Felicity,” Harry sighed, “She can come too. We can all celebrate together.”

“No. She hates you.”

Harry groaned, “Okay how was I supposed to know she couldn’t swim?”

“I don’t know maybe while she was screaming it as you flung her into the pool?”

“I thought she was joking,” Harry huffed. 

“We’re going out tonight. I won’t be at your date.”

“It’s not a date,” Harry corrected, “It’s a nice dinner amongst friends and I want you to be there so I’ll just reschedule.”

“I’m not -”

“You’re going to be there. I’ll let her know to come next Saturday.”

“Harry, I -” You heard Professor Trent call your name and you sighed, “I have to go.”

“Okay. Have a good class.” Harry hung up then, leaving you to just stand there dumbfounded. Harry had forgotten your birthday. You knew he had a lot going on in his mind with his new movie script he was reading and whatever else he does all day, but he’d actually forgotten your birthday. 

So you texted Felicity back, saying you’d be more than happy to get drunk with her ... on a school night.

You were moody for the rest of the week. You tried to hate Harry, or be angry with him, but considering you were always distant because of your homework and your workaholic schedule, you were hardly around to ignore him. You also avoided the library for a week. It was easy to find e-books to study from, get the materials you needed from fellow classmates, and you didn’t even like the coffee shop in the library anyway. 

But mainly you knew you were doing it for fear of seeing Maggie. That’s right, you were afraid of seeing a freshmen - you, a one more semester senior, was afraid to encounter a freshmen for fear that you would have to talk about your best friend. 

Whatever. 

Harry noticed you were in more of a tizzy over your schoolwork than usual, but he chalked it up to your upcoming exams. He found you’d put the old metal music stand he’d once used in the bathroom so you could turn pages and read while you were in the shower. Your room was more of a mess than usual and you’d completely forgotten to do laundry, leaving Harry to wash and fold all your clothes for you without you even having to ask. It wasn’t like he didn’t know where all your clothes went anyway, but still, you were a mess.

“How much wine do you want tonight?” Harry asked you as you scrolled through your emails curled up on the couch. It was Saturday night and you knew Freshmen Maggie was coming over in a couple hours and you should probably get ready, but you were too focused on figuring out which professor would write another letter of recommendation for you to really care. You had real life problems going on now, not Someone-For-A-Little-Bit Problems to deal with. 

“Probably a lot,” you mumbled, making Harry lean over the back of the couch and rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Wadidya say?” he asked, smirking and blowing out some air onto your face as you couldn’t help but smile at his dorky ways. 

“I said probably the whole box.”

“No no,” Harry nuzzled his nose into your neck. “We don’t drink boxed wine around here. That’s only when you’re all alone do I allow that kind of rubbish in my flat.”

Harry walked away as you scoffed. “Your flat,” you chuckled, “Please.”

“D’ya say something?” Harry called from the kitchen as you put down your iPad. 

“Nope.” You stood and tossed the blanket over the back of the couch before grabbing the glass from Harry’s hand and making your way towards your room. “I’m going to get ready.”

“Well I’ll come with you,” Harry shrugged. You turned and gave him a suspicious look. 

“Why are you coming with me?”

“Because I already pre-cooked everything and everything is in the oven and it’s all ready and if I stay anywhere near the kitchen any longer I’m going to continue to get progressively more nervous - I’m really nervous,” Harry rambled, clearing his throat at the end and clasping his hands in front of him as he awaited your response.

“Okay fine,” you sighed, “You can come with me.”

Harry was like a puppy following you into your room as you set your wine down and started getting ready for the evening.

“What do you think she’s going to wear?” Harry asked from your bed, watching as you sat at your desk and applied your makeup. He admired the way your hair cascaded down your back, framing your face in the mirror shining with the lights. He couldn’t help but notice the contrast of your lace bralette against your skin and the way your hair fell against the curve of your breast. But he quickly looked down to his phone instead, waiting for your answer.

“I don’t know. You act as though I know the girl,” you shrugged. 

“You do know her. She’s in your classes.”

“She’s not in any of my classes. I’m in senior seminar and research classes. I’m doing more work in the actual courtrooms now than in the classrooms.”

“But you said -”

“I know what I said,” you cleared your throat. “I haven’t seen her all week.”

“You haven’t seen her in the library? Has she not been there?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “Is she okay? She hasn’t mentioned anything to me.”

“No, Harry, I haven’t been the one with the time to get to the library. And I’m fine, so thanks for asking.”

Harry felt his cheeks tinge a slight shade of pink as he cleared his throat. “Right. Sorry. Yeah, like I said, I’m just -”

“Nervous. I know,” you watched his reflection in the mirror and gave him a soft smile. “You’ll be fine. You charm girls faster than a lawyer knows how to pick a juror.”

“Um ... thank you?”

“Yes that’s a good thing. You’re good a reading people and tailoring to their needs.”

Harry was quiet and you turned to see he was invested in his phone and had lost interest in what you were saying. “Hey,” he cleared his throat, “Did you hear about this trial going on right now?”

“Probably,” you chuckled, “Do you forget what I study?”

“Right,” Harry stood and came over to you, “This whole mob trial? Sounds really ... scary.”

“Oh come on Harry,” you stood and pinched his cheek annoyingly, “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the big, bad wolf.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “This is serious stuff, Y/N. This guy they’re saying has probably been the cause of over 200 murders in the past 20 years. He’s a legit mob leader. This is Scarface level shit.”

“He’s also really short and wheezes like he’s going to die any minute after talking for more than five minutes,” you smirked as you zipped up your dress.

 “With any luck he’ll probably die before the end of the trial.”

“How do you know that?” Harry asked, eyeing you in your reflection in the mirror as you turned to shrug at him.

“It’s my profession, remember? I keep up on this stuff.” 

“Do you think you’ll handle cases like this at some point in your career?” Harry asked, following you as you made your way to the kitchen.

“Hopefully. It’s a high-end case.”

“But -”

“Is your chicken burning?” you asked, knowing that would instantly distract Harry. The topic of the diTorino case was dropped, and you took it upon yourself to help Harry in the kitchen with any last minute details. And you were pulling the rolls from the oven when the doorbell rang, leaving you to finish your task as Harry went to get the door. 

You could hear the greetings all the way from the kitchen, excited sounds of voices and the steps of someone in heels as two people reentered the kitchen. “And you know Y/N,” Harry smiled. 

Maggie was all the punk cuteness you knew she was, in all her glory. Her gorgeous chocolately skin and the adorable curly afro she rocked so perfectly. Her lips were a deep red, her nose ring shimmering in the kitchen lights, and her dress fitting her perfectly in every way you were trying to cover yours up. 

Of course Harry was into her. She glistened in confidence and she was smarter than anyone else you knew.

“Of course!” Maggie smiled and walked over, giving you a hug, “It’s so nice to see you again! You’ve been checking out so many e-books lately, my goodness. You must have your own library somewhere stored away.”

You smiled slightly as Harry snorted. “Oh she does. Her room is basically an explosion of books.”

“Same,” Maggie smiled, “It smells so good! I’ve been looking forward to this all week, I must admit.”

“Well good,” Harry smiled, “We’re just finishing in here if you’d like to go sit at the table?”

“No I can help!” Maggie was still smiling. You accidentally flattened a roll in your hand. No one seemed to notice. 

It wasn’t that you were angry with Maggie. You were just stressed with your trial, the fact that you seemed to work three times as hard as Maggie and still not do as well as she did in her marks. Plus, she looked like a fucking undead mystical princess in her dress and was far, far more mature than you were as freshmen. You weren't so much jealous of the fact she’d caught Harry’s attention, but more so jealous of just her in general. 

“So,” Harry said as you all sat down to dinner, “How has your first year been? Everything you imagined? All the sleepless nights?”

“It hasn’t been as bad as I anticipated,” Maggie laughed and passed you the rolls. You proceeded to squash another one and discreetly have to place it on the floor. You needed to get a dog to eat all the stuff so Harry just didn’t find random smooshy bread all over the floor. 

“Freshman Y/N was a caffeinated zombie,” Harry laughed, “She used her textbooks as a pillow.”

“I’ve heard horror stories,” Maggie laughed, “So how did you two meet? You’ve been friends for a while right?”

You listened as Harry launched into the whole story. About how you’d been a writer’s intern and the two of you had gotten snowed in at the hotel you’d been interviewing the boys at. “We’ve been friends since,” Harry shrugged, “We didn’t talk for a little while but when Y/N was moving to London she asked if she could stay at my place for a little while as she found her own flat.”

“And I’ve stayed ever since,” you sighed, “He wasn’t really around for a while, so it was mostly my flat.”

“So what are your plans after uni then?” Maggie asked, “You surely have lots of options I’m sure. You are Trent’s favorite.”

“Who's Trent?” Harry asked.

“George Trent is a professor. He’s a big deal lawyer. Also very old,” you informed Harry, “I’ve been working on trying to be on his good side for years.”

“He hates me,” Maggie groaned. Suddenly you felt a bit better about yourself.

“He hates everyone,” you gave her a slight smile, “Don’t take it personally. Just work hard and he’ll notice.”

Once dinner was over, you found yourself in the kitchen once more. Harry and Maggie were out on the small balcony, talking and laughing as you started doing the dishes. You knew Harry would badger you about it, telling you that you don’t need to do them but you’d do it anyway. Maggie was nice as she left too, making sure to thank you as Harry walked her to the door. 

It took a while before he returned, and you knew they were kissing. They were probably making out too. Maggie was Harry’s Someone at the moment, and he was making time to show that she was an Important Someone. At least, for now she was. 

Upon returning, you were almost done as Harry let out a long sigh. “That was so nice.”

“Yeah you really charmed her,” you chuckled, tossing him the dish rag so he could put it away.

“You really didn’t have to do the dishes.”

“Are we really going to go through this whole thing?” you asked, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms challengingly.

“You were kind of quiet tonight,” Harry noticed, coming over and leaning against the counter as well, his arm brushing against yours as you stood there together in the silence of the flat. 

“I’m just tired,” you sighed, “It’s been a long week.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “Hey, that professor Maggie mentioned tonight, Trent right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “What about him?”

“Well, isn’t he the guy working the diTorino mob case?”

“Uh yeah. He is. He’s representing the widow whose son was killed.” You pushed yourself off the counter and turned to the fridge, grabbing the orange juice as Harry watched you closely. He could tell the topic made you uncomfortable, and he was still trying to figure out why. 

“Is he nervous?”

“He’s never nervous about anything,” you smirked, “He’s kind of a stone cold killer in court.”

“Well diTorino is a stone cold killer in general,” Harry sighed, “Maggie was telling me that oftentimes diTorino will go after the people who are defending his opponents. Is your professor capable of looking out for himself?”

“diTorino wouldn’t be that stupid to go after a lawyer or attorney on this trial. One wrong move, and they’ll put the guy away for good. The last time he was forced to act was when he murdered one of the opposing attorney’s research team after they brought up the old marks he used to put on his bullets. That fact alone basically put him away for the seven years he was in jail. But before the trial was over, the researcher was dead. And that alone solidified that he had either been the killer or he had ordered the hit.”

“Maybe that’s what your professor should do now,” Harry suggested, “Force his hand.”

You stared off into space as you held your orange juice glass to your chest, thinking on the details of the trial. “There’s not really anything he could go off of,” you shrugged, “diTorino was good about it this time. There weren’t any fingerprints on the body, he has a solid alibi - it’s on tape.”

Harry shrugged, “If there’s one thing all those ‘garbage crime shows’ as you call them, has taught me, it’s that tape can always be doctored.”

Harry kissed your forehead, telling you goodnight as you made your way back to your room as well, going back to the footage of diTorino at the smoking lounge he was out. There were also pictures of him leaving the lounge, after the time of the murder, with some of his bodyguards. 

You zoomed in and zoomed out, sipping on your orange juice as you let out a long sigh. “It’s a great piece of advice Harold,” you mumbled to yourself, “But we’ve got nothing,” you squinted and wrinkled your nose, “Oh gross. Who even buys his ties?”

The tie diTorino was wearing in the smoking lounge was the same color as your orange juice, an ugly orange against his oily complexion with hideous stripes going across the middle. 

“Not your best wardrobe choice there buddy,” you mumbled to yourself, clicking to the pictures of diTorino walking out of the lounge. Your eyes shot open, you heart beating faster as you zoomed in on the navy blue tie diTorino was now wearing ... a different tie than the ugly orange one.

And that’s just what you presented in court the next day to Professor Trent. Your eyes were huge and Professor Trent could tell you were excited as you showed him the footage you’d found, the timeline you’d constructed, and the accusation you figured you could make with diTorino on the stand. 

“You’ll present it then. Those are solid facts,” Professor Trent nodded.

“Thank you Professor I just - wait, did you say I’d be presenting it?” You felt your palms start to sweat as your professor gave you an encouraging and smug smile. 

“What?” he smirked, “Did you really think I would take all the credit for this case. Y/N, this is a good find. This could potentially put diTorino away for good. You should take this.”

“But sir -”

“Consider it a birthday present,” Professor Trent patted you on the shoulder. 

And that’s how you found yourself standing in front of the judge, the jury, and diTorino himself as you held the file in your hands. All thoughts of your potential murder aside once you blew open this case, you were calm, confident and collected. In fact, you were also kind of smug.

“You have a very interesting sense of style, Mr. diTorino,” you started, flipping through the file as your heels clicked against the floor.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, sweetheart. Master finally let his bitch off her leash?” diTorino smirked.

“Your Honor,” Professor Trent warned.

“Behave yourself, Mr. deTorino,” Judge Graff warned with her hard gaze.

“Oh it’s fine, Your Honor,” you brushed it off, “I do like this dress.” 

You hit the remote and the picture of diTorino came up at the smoker’s lounge. “So this is your alibi of the night of the murder, where you’re sitting there with your buddies having a cigar and if you look closely, you’ll see you’re wearing an orange tie. Very Charlie Brown with the stripes, if I do say so myself.”

“Your point?”

“Well, I was looking at this picture of you leaving the lounge, and you see here -” you zoomed in on the picture and pointed, “You’re wearing a navy blue tie.”

“So?” diTorino shrugged, “I spilled and had to change.”

“I figured you’d say that,” you nodded, “So I looked at some more pictures of you from the past couple of days, and I found these pictures of you talking with some buddies from three days prior. You’re wearing the same tie.”

“I don’t have many ties,” diTorino scowled.

“Doesn’t matter. Because I looked back at all the footage from the smoker’s lounge and if you watch right ...” you waited as the tie changed in color on the video, “ ... there,” you smiled, “Your tie just miraculously changes colors. And so, with a little help from our tech team, we were able to find the code used to splice the video so that it looked as though you had an alibi for the night and time of the murder. You were at the lounge the night of Bobby’s death, but not between the hours of 11 and 2 when he was murdered.”

You turned and gave diTorino the sweetest smile you could, “I have to hand it to you, you really went all the way. Making sure the video had the exact same people in it in the exact same position. Too bad you forgot to change your tie though.”

diTorino’s face said it all. You’d caught him. 

You were on this high of victory for the rest of the afternoon. You briskly made your way across campus, Felicity babbling about your victorious moments all the way as you laughed along with her.

“You should have seen his face!” she threw her head back and let out a cry of laughter. “He’s going away for such a long time. You were so merciless. And that dress comment! I was dying!”

“Yeah well I might also be dying soon,” you joked as you both made your way towards the library building, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he sends a man after me or something.”

“You really think he’d be that dumb? The last time he did that he went away for sure.”

“If there’s one thing diTorino hates more than being beat, it’s being beat by a woman,” you smirked, “So yeah, Professor Trent has already talked to campus security. I’m staying on campus until the case is over.”

“You can stay at my place!” Felicity clapped her hands, “That’ll be fun! Murder-free sleepovers for weeks.”

“I highly doubt the trial will go much longer now,” you shrugged, “Not to be too cocky. Besides -”

You stopped and nearly fumbled over your feet when you came to the front desk upon opening the door. Maggie was sitting at the desk, looking punk cute as ever with Harry leaning against in to talk with her. They both had concerned looks on their faces and were talking in rushed whispers.

“Ugh I hate him,” Felicity mumbled quietly and you shushed her quickly. 

Maggie saw you first, her eyes widening as she gripped Harry’s forearm and he turned around. His eyes met yours and you could see he was challenging you to say a single word as you approached awkwardly.

“Styles,” Felicity nodded, her curly red hair doing nothing to hide the scowl on her face. 

“I’m here to just return these,” you mumbled, handing Maggie the books as Harry continued to glower at you.

“Y/N,” he said evenly, “Could we talk for a moment?”

“I’m actually kind of busy. I need to -”

“Now,” he demanded, taking your hand and dragging you out of the library and into the parking lot, allowing the door to slam behind you. 

-----

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I hope you’re all liking this story so far. The next part will be cute and gushy, I promise. There shall be a momentary angst of a conversation and then back to the domestic and fluffy storyline that I feel can only evolve from the emotional conversation at the beginning of Part 3. So I promise I have a plan. And thank you for all of your messages! I promise I got and read every single one but I wasn’t commenting back because I’ve been tired and drained and under the weather. But they all meant so much to me and I promise you they made me smile and laugh and even cry a bit (for good reason, I promise). So thank you for all the support. I was so on the fence about this one shot - I still kind of am honestly - but your support means so much! Thank you!

Part 3 HERE

[unfolded73]

Another New York City Serenade (3/7)

Summary: With the visitors from Arendelle gone and Gold banished, Emma and Killian’s relationship continues to deepen, especially when an excuse for a road trip away from Storybrooke falls into their laps. (A S4 hiatus story).

Beta: @j-philly-b

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3800 this chapter

CHAPTER 1 |  CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

Emma’s evening took an unexpected turn.

She’d gone back to the loft to freshen up after a long day of work, and found herself walking into a war zone. The baby was crying in her father’s arms, the place was an absolute mess, and she caught a glimpse of her mother rushing to the bathroom and slamming the door.

“Whoa, what the hell? Have we been robbed?” Emma asked, taking in the chaos as she pulled her coat and gloves off.

David bounced Neal up and down, clearly not amused. “Your mother came down with a stomach bug this afternoon. Would you mind watching Neal for a while so that I can clean up a little bit?”

Emma thought longingly of her boyfriend and their dinner plans. “Sure, no problem.” She held her arms out and accepted the fussing infant.

She walked a well-worn circle in the loft, singing softly to her brother until his cries faded to hiccupping little sobs, and then finally to silence as he fell asleep in her arms. Her father had the kitchen organized by that point and had offered to heat up some leftovers for them both, which Emma agreed to with a sigh. She continued walking with the same bouncy cadence, afraid that any change would wake Neal up, but she did carefully shift him so that she could pull her phone out of her pocket and call Killian.

“Hey.”

“Swan.” She could hear his pleased grin over the phone. “Ready for dinner?”

“I’m really sorry, but I can’t. My mom’s sick, and they need my help with the baby tonight. I’ve gotta stay here.”

“I’m sorry about your mother; is there anything I can do to help?”

She wanted to say yes, but mostly just because she wanted to see him. “I don’t think so. We seem to have it under control.”

“Perhaps we can reschedule for tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah, that would be good. Although I’ll have Henry tomorrow night.”

“No reason he can’t join us. You know I enjoy spending time with your boy.”

“I know.” She lowered her voice, even though David didn’t seem to be paying her any attention. “It just won’t be… you know. Like a date. And we definitely can’t… If Henry’s spending the night here, then I can’t spend the night there.”

“I assumed as much.”

“Well, you could sound a little more disappointed,” she said with a pout that was only half-joking.

“I just didn’t want you to feel bad about putting your family first. Believe me, every moment that I must wait to have you in my bed again will be the worst kind of torture.” The way he emphasized ‘have you’ made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“That’s more like it.”

He chuckled. “So I will talk to you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah.” Emma hesitated, unsure how to end the call. “Bye, Killian.”

“Goodbye, love.”

She slipped her phone back in her pocket and looked up to see David giving her a slightly accusatory look. “You had a date.”

“And you needed my help,” Emma said, finally deciding to risk putting Neal down in his bassinet to give her arms a break. “Killian will still be there tomorrow.”

“Yes, I’ve come to grips with that fact,” he responded with an eye roll as he set the table with place settings for the two of them, but his warm smile showed that it was a protest more out of habit than actual ill will. “Anyway, thank you.”

Emma shrugged, sitting down at the table. “What are daughters for?”

~*~

If it was possible to spontaneously combust in a diner booth, Emma was going to do it.

First, there had been the way Killian had brushed his lips across her cheek as he joined her and Henry for dinner, his mouth lingering slightly longer than required. Just the scent of him made her want to jerk him out of the booth by the collar of his stupid leather jacket and drag him up to his room. Throughout dinner, she couldn’t focus on the conversation, getting distracted by the hairs on the back of his hand, or the way he licked his lips after taking a drink of beer. Watching him interact with her son and show genuine interest in his schoolwork shouldn’t have been a turn-on, but today it definitely was.

You’ve got it bad, Emma Swan, she thought, as Henry excused himself and went to the bathroom.

Granny dropped the check on their table, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Do you know what I did last night?”

“No, milady, what did you do?” Killian asked.

“Had an uninterrupted night of sleep. Unlike the night before. I don’t care what you get up to in my rooms, but do it silently.” With a dismissive wave of her hand, she walked away, leaving Killian chuckling as Emma covered her face and hoped for a portal to open up underneath their booth to swallow her whole.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “She did hear us.”

“Aye.”

Emma hurried to pay, rushing Henry out without dessert by promising him some ice cream back at the loft. Killian walked them to the door, saying goodnight to Henry as he dashed inside.

“Thank you for a lovely evening.” He took her hand and kissed it, his lips lingering again, his eyes full of promises that he wouldn’t be able to fulfill tonight.

No way was she going to settle for a kiss on the hand, not the way she was feeling. Grasping the lapels of his jacket, she pulled Killian in, and as he dropped her hand to wrap his arms around her, Emma dove in for a deep kiss.

Not that kissing him before had been innocent, but now it was all wrapped up in her head with fucking him, and she couldn’t taste his mouth without thinking about how harsh his breathing had been as he moved inside her, or how his wet mouth had felt on her breast. When they finally stopped kissing to breathe into each other, he seemed equally overcome.

“I really don’t want to say goodnight,” she whispered.

“Nor I.”

Emma sighed, slowly extracting herself from his arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With one more regretful glance, he told her to sleep well and left her at the door.

She was able to take out some of her frustrations by shooting aliens with Henry on his Xbox for the rest of the evening, but when everyone went to bed, Henry in his usual place on the pull-out sofa downstairs, Emma was still keyed up and not at all tired. She sat cross-legged on her bed in her pajamas, picking up her phone and putting it back down again. Finally resolved, she grabbed it up for the last time and placed a call.

He answered after the third ring. “Hello, Swan.”

“You weren’t asleep, were you?”

“No, just reading.” She heard Killian settling – back into bed, perhaps. “Or rather, rereading the same paragraph over and over, distracted by thoughts of you.”

Emma lay back on her pillow, grinning to herself. It felt too ridiculous to say she missed him; she’d just seen him. “Everyone here is asleep, but I’m not sleepy.” She spoke softly so as not to be heard by anyone else in the loft, should they wake up.

“You could sneak out and join me here.”

“Yeah, because I’m in the running for the worst mother ever award.”

Killian laughed. “Well, your competition cursed everyone in town for twenty-eight years, so I think your chances of winning are slim. Nonetheless, I understand. I will just have to lie here alone and imagine you.”

“Imagining anything good?”

She could picture his eyebrow rising. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Maybe I would, why don’t you tell me?” Emma screwed up her face in embarrassment. This was why she had called him, right?

There was a pause. “And what will you be doing while I tell you of all the things that have been occupying my mind?”

“I’ll…” She felt her cheeks flush. “This is a thing people do, you know,” she suddenly felt the need to explain.

“Talk about having sex over the phone?”

“I mean, people… you know. Get themselves off while talking about having sex over the phone. It’s called phone sex. I mean, people also do it by text, but you wouldn’t be able–”

“I can hardly hold onto this infernal device and my manhood at the same time, can I?”

She struggled not to laugh at ‘manhood’. “Press the speakerphone button. Remember, I showed it to you.”

After a bit of fumbling, he spoke again, the quality of his voice different. “Did that work?”

“Yep.” Emma got under the covers, curled up on her side, and pulled one of her pillows over her head. Was she really going to do this? “Just keep your voice down; don’t wake up Granny.”

“What about Henry and your parents?”

“I’ll be quiet.”

He chuckled. “If you’re going to be touching yourself, I don’t want you to be quiet. I want to hear every gasp from your lovely mouth.”

He is going to be amazing at this, she thought, sliding her hand under her pajama pants and underwear. “Next time, maybe.”

Killian cleared his throat, and she thought she could barely make out the sound of him stroking himself. “So what would you like to hear? That since the night you spent with me, I’ve hardly been able to think of anything else but what it was like to be inside you? That my mind wanders all the time to the way you looked that night in my bed, your skin flushed pink with desire? That I cannot wait until I can be with you again, until I can make you come apart under my tongue?”

She did not whimper. Definitely not.

Gathering moisture with her fingers as she rubbed herself, Emma swallowed. “How would you make me come? Tell… tell me more about that.”

“My only regret about that night, darling, is that I didn’t take any time to explore you with my mouth.” There was a pause, and she heard the bed squeak and covers rustling as he perhaps got more comfortable. “Is that something you would enjoy?”

“Yes.”

“Then the next time we can be together, I’m going bury my head between your thighs. Do you know how badly I want to taste you, Emma? I used to think about it, long before you and I were together, lying here and touching myself just like this and imagining the way you would taste in that most secret of places. I’m going to spread you open and use my tongue to pleasure you. I’ll find all the ways that you like it, the perfect pressure and rhythm, the perfect spot to lick at you. My tongue and lips on you and my fingers filling you up until you cannot bear it, until you scream out for me, until your legs tremble and you climax so hard that you forget your own name.”

“Jesus fuck, Killian.” Emma slid two of her fingers inside herself, the heel of her hand grinding down on her pelvic bone. “I’d want to return the favor then.”

He sucked in a breath. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath of her own. Emma didn’t have a lot of experience with dirty talk, but part of being a good bail bondsperson was pretending confidence, and she drew on that now. “I’m gonna get on my knees and take your… cock in my mouth.” She hesitated on the term, but once she was past it, she started to warm to her narrative. “Run my tongue up the underside, over and over until you beg me to suck you.” Some distant part of her brain was shocked at the things she was saying, but she was too aroused to care.

“Yes,” he panted. She could hear his rhythmic strokes speed up. She matched the pace with her own hand.

“And then I’ll suck you like you want me to. Long, slow sucks in and out of my mouth, teasing you, and then harder and harder, taking you deeper. You’ll want to grab hold of my hair and fuck my mouth, it’ll feel so good, and then when you–”

The sound of him coming was unmistakable, even though he was very quiet. Still, she could hear him stifling his groans, could make out the skin-on-skin sound of him stroking his way through it, slowing down fractionally each time. Imagining it nudged Emma that much closer to her own orgasm.

“Did you–?”

“Aye. You?”

“Not yet,” she gritted out. “I’m close.”

“Fuck, I would give anything to see you right now, Swan. I want to watch you make yourself come. I want to see the way you like to touch yourself. I want to see your fingers disappear inside. I want to see the way you touch your hidden pearl until you fall apart. And I want to suck your fingers into my mouth afterwards and taste you. But I will settle for the sound of it. Think about the things my tongue and my cock will do to you when next we can be together, and come for me, love.”

It was the gravely lust in his voice that did it, and Emma’s inner muscles convulsed around her fingers; deep pulses that she felt everywhere. Her attempt to muffle her voice resulted in a rather undignified squeak, and she squeezed her eyes shut in a combination of embarrassment and relief.

They were both quiet for a few seconds as Emma took her hand out and wiped her fingers off on her pajama pants. She threw the pillow off of her sweaty face and sighed. “So…” she finally said. “Was it good for you?”

“Not as good as being with you, but a diverting way to spend the evening.” She heard him shift in the bed again. “But if the goal was to slake my desire, I fear you have failed. Hearing you describe… I desperately want to experience the real thing as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, me too.” Emma laughed softly. “At least maybe I’ll be able to sleep now.”

“Sleep well, love.”

“You too.”

~*~

“Shh, just hurry.” The bright sunlight through the window in his room reflected off on the mirror, blinding her temporarily.

His gravelly chuckle vibrated against the skin of her neck. “I made a promise, Swan, that the next time we were able to be alone together–”

“I have ten minutes, Killian.” Emma tried to push his jacket from his shoulders, almost ready to scream with frustration. “I still need to grab lunch; we don’t have time for all that.” She gave up on the jacket, as he didn’t seem inclined to help her, and zeroed in on his belt buckle. “I need–”

At last, he seemed to get with the program, jerking her leggings down with his hook and hand. As she kicked her boots off, he pulled open the drawer to his bedside table and pulled out a strip of condoms. There was more fumbling, with only the minimum of clothing removed before he entered her with a forceful push of his hips.

“Yes,” she hissed, wrapping her legs around him, the belt from his jeans pressing into her thighs. Finally. The next few minutes were a haze of grasping hands and scraping teeth, panting breaths and thrusting hips. Emma’s fingernails dug into the fabric of his shirt as she came, keeping as quiet as she could, even though she knew Granny would be busy in the diner with the lunch rush.

It felt sheepish, the way they pulled their clothes back on afterwards. “Sorry,” Emma said, “I know that wasn’t–”

Killian laughed. “Did you truly apologize for that?” His hand went through his hair, disheveling it in a way that made her want to push him back onto the bed, and Jesus, get a hold of yourself, she thought furiously.

“I know. But it wasn’t the way you wanted it to be.”

He cupped her face with his hand, and she kind of hated how into that she was, the way his hand felt so large when it spanned her cheek. “There will be time enough for all of that, Swan. Worry not. Come, I’ll buy you lunch.”

The diner was crowded, most of the dwarves clustered at the counter and several other residents that Emma only knew well enough to say hello to filling the booths. Standing there near the register, she felt like everyone was looking at them, and that it was painfully obvious that they’d just had sex. She straightened her ponytail self-consciously. “Let’s get food to go and take it back to the sheriff’s station.”

Killian glanced around at the full diner. “Good idea.”

~*~

He tapped on the door to the loft with his hook, hand absently fiddling with this belt. Killian Jones considered himself to be a brave man, able to face down superior foes with a flourish of his sword and a humorous quip from his lips, but tonight, faced with a dinner in the home of Emma’s parents, he did not feel particularly brave.

Snow opened the door, baby Neal on her hip, and smiled. “Killian, glad you could make it. Come on in.”

He nodded his head in a small bow and followed her into the warm apartment. Henry was sitting on the sofa, doing something with the television, and Emma was over at the stove with her father, tasting from a large spoon and offering her opinion. It was a cozy family scene, and he felt very out-of-place. It was this, he thought, even more than Emma’s affection, that he felt like he didn’t deserve.

“You can hang your coat by the door,” Snow was saying as she put Neal into a swinging contraption he’d noticed her using before. “I’m going to help get dinner on the table. Make yourself comfortable.”

Obeying her directions, Killian ambled over to Henry and sat down next to him. Henry’s hands moved quickly over the device in his hand, while on the television, flashes of images Killian could hardly decipher assaulted his eyes. Infernal monsters exploded into a cascade of numbers, seemingly from a weapon that occupied the foreground of the screen.

“Hey, Killian, give me just a second,” Henry said, his eyes never wavering from their focus. The enter screen went red then, and Henry threw up his hands, groaning in frustration.

“Was that bad?” Killian asked him.

“Yeah, I died.” He reached over and turned off his electronic devices. “What’s up? I heard you’ve been researching the wizard’s hat with Belle.”

“Aye, our work is occupying most of my days. We haven’t found anything useful yet, though.” Guilt flared in his chest, and he grimaced at Henry.

“I’m sure you will. I wish the weather would warm up so that we could go sailing again. I miss our lessons.”

Killian was touched that Henry felt that way. “So do I.”

“Dinner is served, everybody,” David called.

The meal was a pleasant one, and any apprehension that Killian had felt melted away in the face of the family’s laughter and comfortable conversation. For the moment he could forget his guilt and enjoy himself. A few times he caught Emma watching him, and saw her blush and reach for her wine. It added a small tingle of excitement to his happiness to see his own affection reflected back in his love’s eyes.

They were lingering over their wine when there was a knock at the door. Henry went to answer it, opening the door to reveal Belle.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your dinner, but Killian mentioned he would be here,” she said.

“Don’t be silly, Belle, you’re always welcome.” Snow got up from the table and gestured to her. “Come sit with us. Would you like a glass of wine?”

“No, thank you. I actually found something, and I didn’t want it to wait until morning.” She had a thick, leather-bound book clutched in her arms, and she opened it on the table in front of Killian and pointed to a section. “See this?”

He skimmed the words she was referring to; unfortunately they seemed all too familiar. “Right, ‘no potion may free one thusly trapped’,” he read aloud. “We’ve seen those words before.”

“Yes, and doesn’t it seem weird that they keep emphasizing that it’s not a potion? They don’t say it couldn’t be an incantation, or another type of magical object,” Belle said, her voice filled with restrained excitement; whether or not they were able to free the fairies, Killian was thrilled to see her looking happy for once. “So I read on, and found this.” She flipped over several pages and pointed to an engraving of a crystal.

Killian read the caption. “‘A crystal specifically cut to counteract entrapment spells involving magical objects’.” He looked up at her. “Sounds very promising, but how would we ever find it?”

“That’s the thing: I think it might be in New York.”

Emma perked up. “New York? How do you know that?”

Belle grinned. “I googled it. I found an old web site that seemed to indicate it was being held in the archives at the main branch of the New York Public Library, although that was at least a decade ago.”

“It might still be there,” David mused. “Can you call them?”

“I did, but they weren’t able to give me any details over the phone. They said for the archive I was interested in, they would only handle in-person requests.”

“Well, I could go,” Emma murmured, and then jolted out of her chair, her eyes widening. “Killian and I could go. There’s nothing stopping us from coming and going from Storybrooke as we please now that the ice wall is down.” She paced across the room, seemingly too excited to sit still.

“To New York City?” Killian asked, remembering the crushing disappointment of an Emma who didn’t know him and the taste of a cold bologna sandwich in a jail cell. “Not exactly my favorite locale in this realm,” he said as he joined her over by the sofa.

“Think about it for a minute,” she murmured as Henry asked Belle a question about something in the book she’d brought. “Just you and me, away from Storybrooke for a few days, in a hotel room nowhere near any innkeepers with insanely good hearing, or nosy family members, or anyone to bother us.”

“I take it back, Swan. My favorite locale in this realm is anywhere that you happen to be.” Killian felt his mouth stretch into a wide smile. “Let’s sail away.”

CHAPTER 4

[energytraveler]

“i thought you didn’t even notice”

 so, another round of venting. 

here we go. 

this morning, I woke up to him rubbing my back and then my butt and then my boobs... nothing was said... but as he rubbed my back, I felt loved and it felt good but as his hand descended to my butt and then my boobs, I knew he was thinking of sex and probably not how lovely my curves were or how soft my skin was or how warm I was. he didn't pull me close or whisper in my ear “good morning, my love.” he just rubbed me to turn me on, I suppose, but nothing about it made me wet with anticipation. I wanted him off. so, I stretched as if I was just waking up and nonchalantly pushed him off with my legs and arms. we laid there a bit more as my sleepy eyes stayed closed. then a few minutes later he got up and went into the living room to watch Invader Zim. I was comfy in bed and he didn’t invite me out there. (still, nothing had been said at this point.) so, I stayed in bed and read for a bit. then, I got up to make some coffee and eat some eggs and cheese. I got my laptop and set up in bed as I have important schoolwork to do since it is my last semester. I've been sitting in bed all day working on this Capstone Book and I see him come into the kitchen a few times and not make eye contact with me. Then, by noon, he goes outside to work on his motorcycle or something and he sat in the shed for about a couple hours doing god knows what. Then, he comes inside, comes by the bed, and just stares at me. Doesn’t say anything, just stares at me. I look up and say “What?” because his staring can be creepy and not cute or endearing in any way & I am getting sick of him not saying anything and expecting me to read his mind. He says “ I haven’t seen you allll morning.” I can’t help it -- that triggered me. I say, “I have been in bed all day! You knew where I was. Do you expect me to follow you everywhere??” He goes, “No...” I say, “You were the one that was in the shed for like two hours! Did you want me to come out there??” He says, “No... I thought you didn’t even notice...” I thought to myself, are you fucking kidding me, dude?? I say, “I am very observant. believe me, I noticed.” he kind of smirked but didn’t say anything and continues to stare. I go back to my work because what else do I have to say? I need to do my work and he isn’t making this conversation fun. he hardly makes any conversation fun. then he finally says, “can I have a kiss, at least?” so, we kiss. then he goes out to the living room to play fortnite and I am still sitting in bed dumbstruck... like what the actual fuck just happened... several minutes later, I walk out to the living room to get one of my other hard drives and I smile at him but he hardly smiles back then looks away. oh. okay. I’m the bad guy. *eye roll* 

this is the kind of shit I am getting fed up with. I’m coming to a certain age where I want to be single and be able to focus on my work and career without someone looming over my shoulder wondering when I will give them attention next. I already have a dog that does that (but that’s acceptable) I don't need a grown-ass man to do that. that just screams insecurity and proves we are NOT on the same wavelength; we are not synced. I try my hardest to understand him but he doesn’t even try to understand me. 

ya know, I’m just over it.

I want out. 

game over. 

[areswriting]

a x e : xx

Jason and Sophie crane their necks to look at Elise, who holds a broken plastic fork between her fingers.

“Babe?” says Jason, reaching out to touch her face. He pushes her fallen, choppy hair behind her ear. “Are you okay?”

“I think she’s a little shocked,” Sophie says. We all look at her to see her smiling, pointing her intact fork across the table at Elise. She turns the utensil on herself and looks at Jason. “The reason that voice sounds so familiar is because it’s mine.”

Jason’s mouth falls open and he turns his attention to me. “I thought you said you two weren’t together—”

“Please,” says Sophie, wrapping her arm around mine. “We all know you don’t have to be with someone to, well, you know.”

“But you said…” Jason’s voice trails as he stares between Sophie and I, his eyebrows knitted, his mouth still hanging open.

“Come on, Jase,” Sophie sighs, exasperated. “It’s not like you went and told Abe the very moment you and Elise had sex.”

My eyes dart to Elise, who looks at Sophie with a resentful glare.

“That’s because we haven’t,” Jason says. I look at him. His entire face is red, and he looks only at his half-eaten dinner.

“Aw, Elise, I’ve never known you to hold out,” Sophie says sweetly.

“Some of us don’t drop our underwear the second a boy looks at us, Sophie,” Elise says.

“Yeah,” says Jason. “Some of us want to wait for the right moment.”

Now it’s my turn to look down, ashamed.

“That’s sweet,” Sophie says, and surprisingly she sounds sincere. “I think the important question is, who recorded us.”

“I mean, that is creepy,” Jason says. “Do you guys have any idea who is might be?”

I shrug, while Sophie says, “It could be anyone.”

Then it dawns on me—there are two names written all over this.

▲ △ ▼ ▽

I leave dinner early and head straight back to my room, my eyes focused on my phone. After a few seconds of scrolling through texts, I find the thread I’m looking for—but instead of sending a message, I hit the phone icon and the line begins to trill. Once, twice, three times before you’ve reached the voice mailbox of 802-555-9811.

I end the call with haste and start typing a message.

I know it was you who sent out that recording.

Hi, I have no idea what you are talking about.

Who are you? How are you spying on me?

Lol, ok I know I’ve been mysterious but trust me, Abram, I’m not lurking in the shadows spying on you. I’m hundreds of miles away.

Why should I believe you?

Because I think deep down you know that I’m not to blame for whatever happened?

I set my jaw. As much as I want Sylvia—or whoever she is—to be responsible for the recording, a big, growing larger by the second, part of me somehow knows that she isn’t. Even if all she has ever done to me is lie, I know her, and this isn’t her style.

But it could be someone else’s.

I thumb through my contacts until I find Ellie and I press the call button with more force than necessary.

Ring.

Ring.

Ellie’s face appears on the screen and she’s rolling her eyes. “Kai, if you’re calling about Brody—”

“Ellie, I need you to be honest, did you record Elise and me…indecently?” I ask.

There is a long pause that is followed by laughter. “Do I look like Gossip Girl to you? What are you talking about?”

I study her face for tells—but I’m looking at the girl who once said; it isn’t staking, it’s called fierce journalism. She doesn’t have tells.

“I know you are angry at me over Natasha—”

“First off, don’t say that name,” Ellie says with a look of disgust. “And second, I was angry, yeah, but I’m not anymore.”

“Look, you and I both know that you’re vengeful, so if you could just admit that this was your way of getting back at me—”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Kai,” says Ellie, “I haven’t seen you since you and your brother Mason—”

“Jason,” I correct her.

She rolls her eyes. “Since you and your brother Jason were here after Thanksgiving, and the only time I’ve seen you and Elise together was during that facetime call back in December.”

I go from pacing to sitting on the edge of my bed, defeated.

“What happened?” she asks. “You look worried—and is your lip cut?”

“I took a high stick at practice,” I lie. “And someone recorded Elise and I...”

“Save the gory details, I think I’m picking up what you’re putting down,” she says.

“They sent it to everyone at school,” I say.

“That is pure genius,” Ellie says fondly. “I mean—that’s terrible for you, but that’s one way of getting information on there. You have no idea who it could be?”

I shake my head. “I thought maybe it was you, you’re the only person smart enough, and had a reason to.”

“I can’t believe you think I’d actually do that to you!” Ellie says, offended.

“I can’t believe you have the audacity to think you wouldn’t,” I say back. “You made YouTube videos bashing our English teacher in the ninth grade for giving you an A minus on a paper.”

“Touche.”

▲ △ ▼ ▽

A tall girl with long, curly, strawberry blonde hair eyeballs me as she walks through the classroom. Mr. Grant greats her as she passes him and slides into the seat beside mine.

“We haven’t met yet,” says the girl after she pulls a Tootsie Pop out of her mouth. “I’m Dominique Wesley.”

“Abram,” I say, watching as she suggestively places the sucker in her mouth, then against her cheek.

“Oh, I know who you are,” she says brightly. “I think everyone does after that video. I also think that we should get together sometime.”

“Excuse you.” I look up to see Sophie glaring down at the girl beside me. “That’s my seat.”

“I don’t see your name on it,” Dominique replies. “But there are a few empty seats in the back just waiting for you.”

“I’m going to give you five seconds to get up before I—”

“Before you what?” says Dominique, “Finally move and leave Abram and I to our conversation? I’m not going anywhere, babe. But you probably should. Class is starting soon.”

Sophie’s cheeks are the color of her hair and she turns her nose up at the girl before walking around us and to the back of the classroom.

“Where were we?” she says, tilting her head. “Oh, right, you were just about to ask me out.”

I laugh because I don’t know what else to do. Girls never gave me this much attention before and I honestly don’t know what to do with it.

“Did I say something funny?” she says, eyebrows raised.

I shake my head. “No, I’m just trying to figure out why we never met before. Are you new?”

“I was taking pre-calc last semester, but I had to take it with the other freshman,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“You’re—you’re a freshman?” I say, eyes wide.

She sits up and smiles proudly. “I’ll be fifteen in March.”

My breath catches in my throat and I feel dirty enough to need a bath in bleach.

“Wow, ok,” I say. I swallow hard. “It’s uh, impressive that you’re already taking Calculus. I think I was hardly passing pre-algebra when I was fourteen.”

“I’m extremely advanced for my age,” she says, smirking. “And not just with schoolwork.”

“All right, everyone,” Mr. Grant says. “Quiet down.”

The room falls silent as he takes his place in front of us holding a stack of papers. “We’ll be having a pop-quiz today. I know, I’m awful, but the good news is, you’re free to go when you’re done.”

He counts out enough quizzes for each row of students and hands them out, face down. “You can start once you get yours and you have until the end of the period to finish it.”

I flip my paper over and get to work on the first of ten questions.

I’m only on the third question when I hear a pair of heels clicking, and I look up to see Sophie making her way to Mr. Grant’s desk. I glance around the room to see everyone else hard at work, while Sophie hands her quiz off, completed.

She winks at me as she walks across the front of the room, quietly opening the door. I want to ask how she managed to cheat—then I realize just how much everyone seems to underestimate her; she didn’t cheat. She is just scarily intelligent.

Fifteen minutes later I find myself on my feet, offering my paper to Mr. Grant, who takes it with a smile. I feel several pairs of eyes on me as I walk to the door, but I don’t dare look back—because I don’t want to see that little girl put anything else in her mouth.

▲ △ ▼ ▽

(texts Brody & Abram)

dude why is ellie so petty?

she brought me coffee to school, saying it was a peace offering. well she put salt in it instead of sugar and when i took a drink and spit it out she said oh, was that salt im sorry it was an accident, kinda like how you accidentally kissed Natasha

lmao bro she’s the queen of petty she always has been

I’m following in those petty ass footsteps because here I am passive aggressively drinking it and looking at her from across the cafeteria.

i didn’t raise no bitch. You drink that bitter AF coffee ♥

i am. wyd.

Just got out of calc, about to find somewhere to baptize myself in bleach.

did you hook up w a bootleg looking girl or st?

no dude worse i got a semi talking to this hot girl in my calc class she was deep throating a sucker and then says lol i’ll be 15 in march omg fkin gross

omg right these children are out here catfishing us in real life wtf what happened to young girls having snuggle teeth and acne?

idk but I honestly feel like I need to go to church and apologize.

lol i miss you man.

Miss you more pookie

I wasn’t gonna tell you but I’m too excited not to. I’m gonna come to your game on Saturday.

I’m mid key smash when I feel someone sit beside me on the fountain. Locking my phone, I look up and I immediately scoot away from the girl who looks at me like I’m a four-course meal and she hasn’t eaten for days.

“You know, I’m impressed with how fast you finished that quiz,” says Dominique as she crosses her legs toward me. “Maybe I need some tutoring.”

“I’m sure Mr. Grant wouldn’t mind helping you if you’re having problems,” I say and I lean farther away from her.

“I’m not interested in his help,” she replies, smirking. “I was thinking maybe you could help me.”

“Abram—oh.” I look over my shoulder to see Elise rounding the fountain, her lips pinching into a thin line as she studies the girl beside me. “Never mind, I would hate to interrupt.”

I stand and grab my backpack. “You’re not—I was actually looking for you.”

She glances back at Dominique. “Are you sure, because you looked pretty cozy—”

“Please, save me,” I whisper against Elise’s ear.

She pulls away and smiles back at Dominique. “Sorry, sweetie, but he isn’t available right now. You can try again later—maybe once you’ve hit puberty?”

“I think she already has,” I say as Elise urges me away from the fountain and my dignity.

“Oh my God, Abram,” Elise snaps. “That girl is like twelve.”

“I know,” I bite back. “She was trying to show me how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop earlier.” I can’t help but cringe as I think about it, and I will myself to think of something else.

“I think she probably want to know how many licks it’ll take from you,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You seem to have a fan club now.”

“I think I’ve had one since that party—”

“God, shut up!” she says, walking in front of me and throwing her arms out. “What makes you think I want to hear about that? Or any story about you with any other girl?”

I stare at her, eyebrows creasing together. “Oh, but it’s okay for you to flaunt your relationship with Jason in front of me?”

“I don’t do that, Abram—that’s Jason. Besides, that’s different, I haven’t—we haven’t—we’ve barely even kissed!”

“So that makes it fair?” I say.

“I didn’t say that—”

“But you’ve implied it plenty of times,” I say. “Did you just want to fight with me? Is that why you were looking for me?”

“No, but I wasn’t expecting to find you with some freshman skank!” she shouts. “I thought you had standards—but I guess if you’d be into Sylvia, you’d be into anyone.”

I laugh dryly and shake my head. “Obviously I don’t have standards,” I say, holding my arms out toward her. I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, but I’m too angry to say sorry, even after her face falls. “Because if I did, I wouldn’t put up with your neck-breaking mood swings.”

Her lips part, but words are forestalled—because I’m not done yet.

“You know what? Never mind—forget that I was looking for you. I’m going to go find Sophie, because at least she is constantly a bitch and doesn’t lead me on!”

Without giving her a chance to respond, I walk away.