#I just needed to occupy my hands while I watch psych

[debby-lives]

[liillyliilly]

Mind Games

iwaizumi hajime x reader words; 14055 synopsis; Whether by fate or luck, they had always been seated right next to each other. Every year, they were desk-mates. She liked to play Go, a game that used a lot of mental planning and strategy. He did not like the way his own brain played games with him, psyching him out every time he was near her. It's just too bad that she's dating one of her club members, leaving Iwaizumi to spend too much time in his own head.

She always thought he was mildly bothersome. The same guy that arm wrestled on her table, when she had the full intention of playing Go instead. Maybe if she had been a part of the chess team instead this all could’ve been prevented. That way she could’ve spent lunchtime with them instead of solely with her strange, but still sweet, best friend.

She focused back to the issue at hand.

“Iwaizumi Hajime, this is my table too.” She shook her box that had the black and white stones she spent so many hours playing with, capturing and expanding territory in the classical intellectual game of Go. Ito Yuuta was hovering around the door, waiting to be invited inside the classroom to join her in their game from yesterday. She had a picture of the board and needed to set it up again the way it had been left.

He just slammed down another kid with his arm, getting patted on the back by one of his fellow club members. “Ah, yeah, my bad, sorry. Truly.” Iwaizumi’s face was red, and she thinks that maybe arm wrestling was more intensive than it appeared.

He ushered the group of boys to clean their stuff off the table so she could set her board down on the desk in the classroom. Sometimes it irked her how much he would neglect to acknowledge that the set of desks right next to each other were not in fact, both of his to utilize in activities between classes. She had a claim to her desk and he had a claim to his desk. That’s all there was to it.

Every year, without fail, when she picked a charm before school started, she always got the Unlucky charm. That unluckiness manifested in the personage that was Iwaizumi, because every year, since elementary school, he had been her seatmate. Iwaizumi himself wasn’t mean or rude, he just lacked a sense of personal space. Especially regarding their desk situation.

She supposes that her family name may have played a role in the seating charts, but even midway through the year when desks were shuffled, she always sat next to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi was really nice though, she did have to admit. And while they weren’t best friends, or extremely close, she did have to admit that she enjoyed his presence more often than not, so she enjoyed the friendship she had with Iwaizumi.

She sat down at her desk, laying out the board and starting to set up the stones. She noticed Ito still awkwardly standing on the threshold of the room, and she waved him over. He pulled around a chair so the two of them were sitting knee to knee around the Go board.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa were already out in the hallway, heading downstairs, aiming to go outside to the tables that were out there. Matsukawa was folding bills in his hands, collecting money from other boys who thought they could beat Iwaizumi. Hanamaki was chewing on a stick of licorice. When the duo noticed that Iwaizumi wasn’t behind them, they turned around.

Only to see Iwaizumi outside the room, but still keeping his head in the room. It looked silly to Hanamaki, to see Iwaizumi almost splayed out against the wall trying to balance while he was trying to watch what was happening in the classroom he had previously occupied.

“Oi! Hajime! I have three guys lined up for you still, hurry!” Matsukawa’s deep timbre broke Iwaizumi out of his trance, as he turned on his heel to catch up with his friends.

Hanamaki glanced at Matsukawa, then back to Iwaizumi who had his hands tucked into his pockets, slouching a little.

Matsukawa caught wind of what Hanamaki was trying to get him to notice, and Matsukawa tucked the bills into his back pocket. Hanamaki decided to instigate a titch, talking over Iwaizumi and making eye contact with Matsukawa.

“She’s really irritating. Thinking she can just kick us out of the classroom.” Hanamaki clocked how Iwaizumi’s shoulders stiffened.

Matsukawa gave a lazy grin, “Yeah, and her infant of a boyfriend is such a twerp, lurking around the room so he can play with her.”

“Not to mention, the school does way too much for her. I mean, what’s a couple of Go championships have on true athletics?”

Iwaizumi stopped dead in his tracks, the three of them right near the exit to go outside. Hanamaki and Matsukawa took a few more steps until Iwaizumi spoke, “You bastards are so rude, did you know that? Screw human decency and shove it all off I guess? You’re both on par with Shittykawa himself.” He waved his hand in irritation and had a scowl on his face.

He pushed past them and sat down at a table with a thud, putting his forehead on the table and clasping his hands over the back of his head. He was bouncing his knee anxiously, enjoying the way the cold outdoors air cooled down the flush on his face.

Today it was how she had said his full name, just hearing his given name on her tongue had his heart stuttering.

Hanamaki chuckled, “Caught him.”

Matsukawa snickered, “Hook, line and sinker Hiro.”

“Great game Issei, we should do it again sometime soon.” Hanamaki held his fist out, and Matsukawa gave it a solid bump.

“Sooner rather than later, he’s so boring when he’s lovestruck and down bad like this. How many years has it been now?”

“I’ve counted four, but I think he’s liked her since they first met.”

Oikawa strutted outside, putting a hand on each of their shoulders, “What are you two plotting this time?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.” Hanamaki throws up the middle finger in Oikawa’s direction as he and Matsukawa walk to go sit with Iwaizumi.

Oikawa throws his hands up into the air and rolls his eyes. “You guys can’t make jokes like that because my mom restricts my internet access.” He groans before jogging over to his friends.

Back inside the classroom, while Ito had picked up his black stone and was thinking about which notch to play it on, she glanced outside the window. She already knew what her next three plays would be regardless of where Ito had placed his stone. The cool wind from the open window next to her desk was always pleasant. The flowers were just beginning to blossom again after a particularly cold winter.

Even though she and Iwaizumi shared a desk partnership, he always asked the teacher if they could swap who was sitting by the window. She asked him about why he liked sitting on the outside of their desks, rather than the inner side by the wall and the windows.

He hadn’t even really given her an answer, he just stuttered and shoved his hands into his pockets. She had offered him an answer, asking him if he just preferred the elbow room from sitting near the aisle. He nodded furiously before running a hand through his spiky black hair and accidentally getting a strand of hair stuck on a ring he had been wearing.

“Just freeze.” She had told him. The bell had rung for a passing period for teachers to change classes and for students to stretch their legs. Iwaizumi’s hand was still stuck to his hair. She leaned over a little, not needing to do much to get closer due to their desk arrangement.

Her knees were brushing against his thigh, and she reached up into his hair to try and solve the puzzle of disconnecting his ring from his hair. The ring was a clunky metal one, on his ring finger. She finally saw where the hair had gotten snagged on one of the sharp curves of his ring.

She gently tugged his hand out of the ring, so both his hands were free but the ring was still in his hair. She spent another few seconds untangling his hair and got the ring free.

“There we go.” She tossed the ring into the air before catching it again. She smiled and held the ring out on her palm for Iwaizumi to grab. He was still frozen. His hands were toying with a different ring on his other hand. “Hello?”

He shook his head before grabbing the ring. Letting out a gruff, but surprisingly earnest, “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem.” She turned her head back around so she could look outside, the snow coating the ground and layering over the trees. She sighed a little, reaching out to draw shapes on the cold glass that was fogging up slightly in the corner.

Unbeknownst to her, Iwaizumi let out a deep sigh as well. He had laid his arm out on his desk, resting his head on it as he looked up at her slightly. He was observing the way her face seemed to focus on the snowflakes outside the room and the way her pointer finger gently glided over the glass of the window.

That’s why he liked to sit on the outside. He could pretend he was looking out the window as well, when he was really just looking at her.

The smell of flowers brought her to attention, as well as Ito’s stone making a click on the Go board and him saying, “Your move.”

She held the white ceramic playing piece in her hand, rolling the heavy toy along her palm with her fingers. She saw Iwaizumi on the bench, getting poked by his friends as he lifted an arm to try and defend himself from getting prodded. Then someone she didn’t know came around and sat opposite to Iwaizumi, rolling up his sleeve. She lost interest quickly after that.

She sat down the stone, capturing several of Ito’s and he made a short whimper sound at losing so much traction in the game. She picked up his pieces and put them in the side bowl reserved for his captured stones. Her next two moves went identically, and their short one hour game, from both yesterday and today, had ended the same way most her other games went, with her winning.

“Sorry Yuuta, maybe tomorrow you’ll have better luck.”

Yuuta scoffed, “Yeah right, I’m glad we don’t play in the same division for a reason.”

He started cleaning up the pieces and putting them back into her opened box, arranging the bowls of stones where they went and sealing lids over the bowls.

“Any luck on finding another member for next year? You can’t have a Go club with just one player.”

“My brother will come here next year, he’ll be in the club.”

She crosses her leg, chewing on her bottom lip, “Anyone else? Maybe you could aim for two new members next year?”

“Face it, Go isn’t popular at this school, despite your best efforts, and all the awards you rake in. If we went somewhere like Shiratorizawa or a different prep school then maybe the story would be different.” Ito slung his backpack over his shoulder, standing up right as the bell rang.

She grabbed his hand before he left, “Thank you, really. You’re the best vice captain a girl could ask for Yuuta.”

Ito rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a friendly gesture.

“Well, anything for you.”

She smiled as Yuuta carefully slid past Iwaizumi who was making his way to his seat next to her.

“How tall is he?”

She was still getting her math textbook out of her desk. Iwaizumi assumed maybe she hadn’t heard him, so he repeated his words, “How tall is he?”

She looked at Iwaizumi and pointed at herself, he nodded.

“How tall is Yuuta?” She repeated, making sure her understanding was correct.

“Yeah, how tall is he?”

“Like 193 centimeters I think? He had this crazy growth spurt these past couple of months.” She laid her book out, opened to the page the teacher was writing on the board. “Why?”

“No reason.” Iwaizumi knew why he had asked. Iwaizumi was barely cutting it at 179.3 centimeters, but there went her boyfriend who was almost a full fourteen centimeters taller than him. He shoved his hand into his desk, looking for his pen case. “Damn it.”

“What is it?” She had her plastic gel pen in her mouth, lightly between her teeth while she waited for class to officially start. Iwaizumi gulped a little at the way her lips were pressed against the body of the pen.

“I left my pencil at home. I have my pens, I just can’t do math in a pen.”

She nodded, closing her mouth around the pen, she reached into her pencil case and handed Iwaizumi a simple wooden pencil from her bag. She gave the pencil a slight shake in front of Iwaizumi.

He accepted it after a moment, muttering thanks.

When she smiled as a response to his gratitude the pen in her mouth dropped to the ground. Iwaizumi, without much thinking, bent down to pick it up for her. She, also without much thought, also bent down to pick up her pen. When they hit their heads against each other, she let out a soft ouch and rubbed the top of her head.

“My gods I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think,” Iwaizumi cringed internally, how much longer could he keep going like this, stammering and not even being able to get out a full length sentence. He was supposed to be a third year student for heaven’s sake. His ears were already burning and he fully believed he was going to get a lasting permanent burn from how hot the blood was that rushed to his ears.

She told him not to worry, that there wasn’t anything to apologize for, but she kept rubbing her head, trying to use sensory overload so that the pain wouldn’t be as bad. “It’s fine. Class is starting, let’s just focus, okay?”

He could, decidedly so, not focus. Especially not when she kept putting that stupid pen in her mouth, the worst part was when she took it out of her mouth to write down a note or to finish solving a problem and his brain was filtering in a pop sound each time her lips opened. He had to rub his face in his hand every time he caught himself drifting over to her instead of the chalkboard up in the front of the room.

Her perfume was light, but he was so tuned into her that he practically absorbed the scent. It was just a silly vanilla smell, but he was almost tripping over himself each time she moved her head and he could smell the scent from her neck just a bit better.

Iwaizumi was always glad that he went to the first day of school at least an hour early. Maybe it was slightly manipulative, maybe he was trying to weigh the scale in his favor, but he didn’t care. The teachers were always so oddly receptive to his request too.

Each new year, starting in the first year of middle school, he went to his homeroom teacher early and asked to be placed next to her. He knew that in middle school the seating chart wouldn’t be solely based on a family name basis, so his chances of losing out on sitting next to her would reduce drastically.

The first time he had had the conversation with the teacher it went something vaguely akin to him pleading and then the teacher taking pity on Iwaizumi and agreeing to the seating arrangement.

After that first year, that same homeroom teacher contacted the second year homeroom teacher he was going to have. The teacher had simply said, “If you want to be thoroughly entertained, then you need to sit him next to her. I’ve never been more engaged during study hall than watching him try and befriend her.”

Iwaizumi wasn’t aware, but when the jump from middle school to high school was made, all three of his homeroom teachers had personally contacted his first year of high school teacher and had collectively bargained for him- just so that he could be sat next to her.

And now, while Iwaizumi was struggling to solve this equation during the ten minute practice period in the middle of class, the math teacher was watching him extremely closely.

So what if all the teachers at Aoba Johsai that had Iwaizumi had a group chat, and so what if they shared any sort of progress details he had made. So what if they got mad when a different boy tried to talk to her during passing periods when Iwaizumi was struggling to find a reason not to leave his desk so he could stay near her. Adults were allowed some form of entertainment as well.

The day came to a close at Aoba Johsai High School, and she was busy packing up her stuff, having to pull everything out so she could take her Go board home. Typically she would leave it in her locker, but she wanted to polish some of the stones, so she would take it home today.

Ito Yuuta and Hanamaki Takahiro both made their way to her classroom after the final bell had rung. Ito let Hanamaki enter the room before he followed suit.

Hanamaki slumped down in Iwaizumi’s seat, resting his feet on the desk. She just raised an eyebrow and finished Tetris-ing her bag. She looked to Ito who just shrugged but held up his phone, which communicated to her that Ito would text her later about whatever it was he wanted to say. Hanamaki watched as Ito left the room, then leaned back into the chair and rubbed his mouth with his hand.

“Yes? Is there something I can do for you Hanamaki?” She put her hand on her hip and lolled her head around to look him in the eyes.

“Listen.” Hanamaki starts, and she nods , zipping up her bag. “So, I don’t know if you know this, but us volleyball third years are absolutely trash at English. Iwaizumi more than the rest of us.”

She continued nodding, she thought that Iwaizumi was doing particularly well in English, having seen his test grades when papers and exams were handed back. But she supposes maybe not if Hanamaki is telling her this.

“I’d like to be the one to invite you to a study session at Iwaizumi’s house this weekend, it’s a sort of sleep-over situation, but his dad will be home the whole weekend so no need to worry sweetheart. Oikawa and Matsukawa will also be there. It should be fun.”

She pauses for a moment, slowly putting her backpack on. “Can I bring a friend?”

Hanamaki takes his feet off the desk, wiping away the dirt that fell from his shoes onto the desk. “Tall curly brunette that sits with you at lunch?” He posed.

“Ito, yes.” It was a wonder that Hanamaki could befriend anyone she thinks, he’s all bite and no bark.

“Yeah, no. There’s only so many extra futon mattresses.”

“I could bring an extra?” She begins to walk out of the classroom, needing to get home to start polishing her Go materials if she wanted them ready by the tournament. She never used her personal board, it was just a naturalistic routine to get her into the right mindset.

Hanamaki chuckles, “That’s not how this whole sleepover thing works.”

“Okay, well, why me? There’s plenty of other people I would assume you guys want to hang out with over me. I’ve never even loaned you a pencil before Hanamaki. I don’t even have your number.”

“Leave it all to me, just say you’ll come.”

What harm did it do to help these poor boys out before midterms?

“Sure, this Saturday then?”

“Yes. I’ll text you. See you there!”

Hanamaki hustled out of the classroom, getting outside quicker than she could stage an invasion on her opponent's side of the board when playing Go.

She settled into the reality that boys are weird and that she was the only sane person in the universe.

Iwaizumi was pulling his hair out as Hanamaki ate a bag of chips in his living room.

“You did not.” Iwaizumi began to pace back and forth, entirely dumbfounded that his supposed friend would go out of his way to craft a fake tutoring session that would last all night. A full twelve plus hours of her, plus it would be at his house, plus there would be pajamas involved. “I can’t believe you told her that all of our hang outs require pajamas as the attire.”

Iwaizumi dragged a hand across his face.

Hanamaki shrugged, shoving a handful of potato chips into his mouth, then speaking while the chewed up bits of food were still in his teeth, “Don’t lie to yourself, you’re glad that this is happening. You’re glad that I just crafted the perfect catalyst for you to make out with her under the stars. Also, you getting to see what kind of pajamas she wears ought to earn me some Hajime brownie points.”

Iwaizumi lifted his hands up, “I hate you so much. Genuinely, you’re the worst. She knows I’m decent at English too, Hiro, she knows that something is up.”

Hanamaki rolls his eyes and tosses the empty bag away, patting his stomach, “Do you have licorice?”

“Yeah, cupboard.”

Hanamaki throws up his thumb and goes into the kitchen to acquire his third snack since arriving at Iwaizumi’s house twenty minutes ago.

Since today was Thursday, he still had Friday to try and reverse any damage that Hanamaki had caused.

On Friday, during lunch, he decided to stay inside and eat in the classroom. She had brought a lunch from home and was reading a book, her elbow resting on her desk- holding her thick book, and her other hand had her chopsticks lifting bits of rice and chicken into her mouth intermittently.

Iwaizumi scanned for her boyfriend. Then he realized that her boyfriend would probably know all about her going over to his house on Saturday, so maybe she would gently let Iwaizumi down and tell him that her boyfriend said she couldn’t tutor his rowdy group of friends this weekend.

“Can I sit here?” He grabbed the back of his chair, balancing his tray in his other hand.

She chuckles, using one hand to put her bookmark where she had left off in the book, setting the book down in the corner of her desk. “That’s your desk, it would be weird if I said you couldn’t sit there.”

He chuckles just like she had, nodding in agreement.

He thinks about what to say to her, but can’t find the words, so he resigns to sipping on his carton of apple juice.

“You don’t normally eat in the classroom, what’s the reason for your change in behavior?”

He liked that she talked slightly strangely, sometimes she would say things in a long round-about way instead of simply using basic phrases to convey her thoughts. He liked it because he could hear her voice for just a bit longer.

Iwaizumi shrugs, taking a bite of the salmon on his plate.

“Well, it’s nice to see a fellow athlete appreciating the calm that is a classroom during lunch.” She smiles.

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow, and without much thought, inserts a statement that triggers her, “Go isn’t really a sport though.”

She dropped her chopsticks, clattering to the ground. He feels like the most inconsiderate imbecile ever to walk the earth. He prayed to the gods to just relieve him of the pain of having such a thick skull.

“Iwaizumi, I will make you eat your words because Go is the most intensive mind sport there is in the entire world and you will see how difficult it is once you play one match with me.” She realizes that it really isn’t that serious, but it felt like an insult to her passion. She knew that he likely didn’t have any sort of foul intention with his words, he just didn’t understand Go the way that she did.

“Bring your Go board then, on Saturday.” Iwaizumi almost visibly winces. His whole goal in eating lunch at his desk had been to diffuse the idea of a sleepover, but here he was, actively encouraging it. Subconscious thoughts and desires crept up on him like a sort of rain, pittering down slowly, and as you watch the small dark dots appearing on the ground, suddenly you’re soaked from head to toe. In this case, his deep yearning to spend time with her manifested in encouraging Hanamaki’s criminal approach to matchmaking.

“I will then, and you’ll see what a real athlete looks like, an athlete of the mind.” She taps her temple a few times, grabbing her chopsticks from the ground and saying she’s going to go wash them.

Iwaizumi shudders. He had a lot of cleaning to do to prepare for Saturday.

When he got home, he started with the living room and then worked his way out to all the other areas of his house.

His dad, Haruo, appreciated the cleanliness when he got home from work, but seeing his teenage son scrubbing the floor vigorously on his hands and knees might have been overkill for the older man.

“Hajime, what are you doing?”

“I’m having friends over on Saturday night, they’ll leave Sunday morning.” He wipes some sweat from his forehead before going back to his rag and scrubbing in a circular motion.

“It’s just your buddies, what’s all the cleaning for? They all practically live here anyway, they know what a sty it can be here.” Haruo dropped his bag on the coat hanger, kicked his shoes off in the walkway, and stepped up to enter the main living portion of his house.

Haruo looked at the family photos on the wall along the hallway to the main living room, seeing a toothless Hajime being held by his late wife, Hana. He put two fingers to his lips before pressing the fingers to her face through the glass of the frame. Haruo whispered a quick, ‘love you’ before focusing on Hajime again.

“It’s not just Hiro and Issei and Tooru.”

“Oh, do tell? That junior of yours who came around once? The one with the bleached hair? He kind of looks like a puppy?” Haruo sat on the couch, surprised that Hajime had also cleaned the fabric cases of the couch cushions.

Iwaizumi let out a deep sigh, “You know that girl from middle school?”

How could Haruo forget her?

“And you want her over here? With all your friends?”

“Believe me, I was not the coordinator for this.”

Haruo laughed, a deep humor from his chest. He needed to sleep, work had been hard, but he was glad that he had spent some time talking to his son. As he walked to his bedroom, he ruffled Iwaizumi’s hair.

Iwaizumi had finished cleaning around ten at night, stretching his back and scratching the back of his neck, he looked around the house. He applauded himself on having done a good job cleaning. It would be Saturday tomorrow, and he didn’t know if he was stressed from the anxiety of her being around or the excitement of her being around.

Iwaizumi went into the hallway to grab his house slippers, when he stopped at the picture frames. His dad always touched the one of his mom holding him when he was an infant, so there was slight discoloration on the glass right where his mom’s face was.

His dad knew who she was, because she was the only one to come to their house besides Oikawa Tooru during his entire second year of middle school.

She had come with a bouquet of flowers, of lilies.

Iwaizumi remembers that entire day much too vividly for comfort.

He had needed to go back to school after missing it for almost three whole weeks. His mom’s funeral had been the week prior. Staying in the hospital for one full week while she was slowly dying had crushed Iwaizumi’s soul. There isn’t much that you can do for someone once they get ovarian cancer.

He had cried so much when his mom told him that she wouldn’t be doing any more chemotherapy or treatments the month before she died. He had begged her to just try one more, but she had to find a way to gently tell her son that she wanted her quality of life in her last days to be something less painful than if she had undergone various chemical treatments.

“Mom, just one more. You can fight this.” Iwaizumi was tugging on her hand. His dad was sitting on the opposite side of the room, crouched into himself with his shoulders heaving and stuttering from the silent cries he was letting out. “Why won’t you just fight a little more. For me, you won’t even fight for me?”

Iwaizumi had looked to his dad for back up, but was said was done.

“Hajime, you don’t understand now, but you’ll understand later. Please just don’t be mad.” Hana, his beloved mother, was trying to soothe him by gently rubbing his hand with hers.

“I’m not mad, I just want you to try. You say that I don’t understand, and I really don’t, but I do know that you can fight a little more.” He looked into his mom’s olive colored eyes, “Please mom. Please.”

When she frowned sadly, Iwaizumi just cried, wrapping his arms around his mom and getting her hospital gown wet with tears.

The week after her funeral procession, Iwaizumi felt alone. Not even Oikawa could do anything to relieve the pain of losing a parent. No one could do anything.

And at the ripe age of fourteen, she understood that as well. Iwaizumi’s seatmate. Maybe she felt like she needed to do something, because she had missed the way Iwaizumi would steal her eraser without asking, or the way that he’d been gone for so long. Her desk felt empty without Iwaizumi there. So when he returned, but as the shell of himself, she knew she had to find some way to show that she cared.

She couldn’t take away pain, but she could mourn with him. That’s a lesson her own parents had taught her. A friend who mourns with you, is a friend for life. When you mourn with those who mourn, you are honoring those who passed and those that still live with that pain.

It was during lunch, and the teacher had said that everyone would need to leave the classroom for lunch, letting Iwaizumi stay inside the classroom by himself.

That was the only time she broke the rules. When she snuck away from the cafeteria, and went into that empty classroom.

He had his head on his desk, bento left unopened. His body would sometimes tighten and shake, trying to hold back audible cries.

Silent cries were always more painful than loud wails she thought. A silent cry carries a sense of belonging to the agony and a consistent resistance against peace. A loud cry is a relief, you can let go when you cry and people can hear you. But when a person cries silently, they hold in their pain and won’t let anyone share the burden of it.

She opened the door, stepping into the classroom. The overhead lights seemed too bold, too cruel, too unloving for this moment.

She sat down, and began to eat her lunch. She didn’t say anything, she just kept eating and chewing.

Iwaizumi had been upset that she came into the room.

“What the hell do you want?” He was facing away from her, head still on his desk. She was sitting face forward, at her desk. It annoyed her that he was being so curt. She had to let it go, realizing his reaction was more likely out of his sorrow than actual intent to be mean to her specifically.

“I want to mourn with you.”

“Oh, shut up. You don’t know anything.”

“I don’t. But I’m here. I’ll leave if you want me to.” She drank from her water bottle.

Iwaizumi cried in a small voice, she could hear it this time. “She didn’t want to fight anymore.”

The way his words cracked in his throat. The way he lifted his head to make eye contact with her. The way his face was morphed into a shadow of who he was supposed to be.

She started crying when his first tear fell straight from his eye to the space between their desks. She just hugged him. At first, he resisted, trying to break out of the hold. But then he could hear the way her heart pounded in her ribcage.

He hugged her back and had his face in her neck.

It was thirty minutes of crying, some minutes went by quieter than others.

But tears dry up eventually.

“What do you think my mom’s life looks like without me? Can she still hear my voice? Is she watching down on me?” Iwaizumi had rubbed his eyes raw, leaving red everywhere he had touched.

“I think that she’s all around you.” Iwaizumi clenched his jaw, but she kept going. “Even though you can’t hear her or see her, she’s there. She’ll always be there for you.”

“Why did you come?” Iwaizumi started eating his food, extremely small bites, but bites nonetheless.

“I told you earlier. I came to mourn.” She gives Iwaizumi her bowl of chicken broth, and he tries to push it away, but she insists, and he downs it before continuing to speak. She wanted to settle the issue, but he bothered her with more insistence.

“No really, you could’ve just ignored me, just let everything go. But you came.”

“You’re stubborn. I’ve known you for almost three years now, and you’re stubborn. But also, your heart is so sensitive. You take in everything and hold it close. I figured you might need someone who you can express everything too without having to put on a face of composure.”

After school, she had bought lilies from the farmer’s market.

She had asked Oikawa Tooru how to get to Iwaizumi’s house, and Oikawa drew a map for her.

When she had gotten to the door, she tucked the map into her pocket and knocked gently.

Iwaizumi Haruo, the man who had just lost his wife, the mother of his son, saw this sweet kid holding a neatly wrapped bouquet of lilies. She was bowing deeply, holding the flowers out for him to take. Haruo had hesitantly accepted the flowers, and she bowed again.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to help.” She couldn’t have been any more mature for her age, Haruo had thought. Hajime had turned the corner in his house, finally seeing that she was at the door.

And for the first time in a really long time, Iwaizumi Hajime had smiled.

Saturday came soon enough, and Iwaizumi was dressed in his school uniform. Which in hindsight might not have been the most optimal outfit choice when Hanamaki, Matsukawa, and Oikawa came barreling in wearing their pajamas and dumping their stuff in the middle of the living space

Oikawa just rubbed the space in between his eyebrows, “Iwa-chan, why are you wearing school clothes? You know it’s a Saturday right? This is supposed to be a pajama thing.” Oikawa tugged on his Hello Kitty bottoms, demonstrating to Iwaizumi what attire was supposed to be worn.

Matsukawa had turned on the radio, playing GOT7’s “If You Do”. When Iwaizumi asked what Matsukawa was doing, he replied with, “Playing music to set the mood. It’s a song about being desperate for a girl. You know, your whole pining thing you got going on. I thought that my music choice would’ve made for sense, but you’re just oblivious.”

Iwaizumi slapped Matsukawa upside the head, clicking his tongue.

“How much money to enact your little scheme today?” Hanamaki inspected his fingernails, lounging on Iwaizumi’s couch in his living room.

“How much money? You’ve got to be kidding me here Hiro. Shittykawa make this man see reason.” Iwaizumi directed Oikawa’s attention to Hanamaki, but Oikawa just shrugged.

“I don’t know Iwa-chan, if you really liked her then you’d be willing to pay Hiro for his services.”

“Hiro’s going to simply befriend one of her friends under the guise of him having a crush, then find out everything about her for me. That falls under friend duties.”

Matsukawa rolled his eyes, “Iwaizumi you sound crazy, just ask her to hang out one on one, we have like what? Three months left of school? Muster up some of your Ace energy and confess. I’m tired of you acting like your own personal cock-block for these last four agonizing years.”

Oikawa looked at Matsukawa incredulously, “Four years? Nah, Iwa-chan’s been whipped for like at least six years at least. I really don’t understand why, she’s not-”

Iwaizumi threw a sock at Oikawa that he had hastily taken off his foot while balancing on one leg. “Finish that sentence and I’ll shove the other sock down your mouth.”

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Iwaizumi was too engrossed in continuing to insult Oikawa to notice. Hanamaki giggled, then he wiped the pleased expression off his face, “Sorry Iwa, me and Issei got to get back to my house for dinner, my mom is making curry tonight, be back later.”

Oikawa remembered the other plan, the one that Hanamaki had made a separate group chat for last night, rushing to say his part, “I have to take Takeru to that new kid’s movie, I’ll be back around ten.”

“What the hell, I thought we were hanging out.” Iwaizumi lifted up his shirt, planning to change into a tank top. Only once his shirt was entirely off, did Hanamaki open the front door.

She was standing right there, holding both a Go board and the English textbook. “Hanamaki? Matsukawa? Oikawa?” She took a step back, letting the boys exit Iwaizumi’s house as they all told her to have a good time while giving their various excuses why they had to leave. When she took a step forward, she saw Iwaizumi struggling to get his button-up back on. The sleeves were stuck and his head was covered in the body of the shirt.

She could see the solid outline of his abdomen, and the way his back muscles were constricting as he fought with the shirt to get it back on. She felt her body naturally produce some drool, which she just swallowed and pretended like it didn't occur.

It would be rude to just let him struggle, right? She set the Go board down on top of the textbook.

“Freeze for me.” She stated and Iwaizumi stopped wiggling, arms still up in the air.

“Kill me now please.” Iwaizumi said, but it was muffled due to his head being surrounded by fabric.

She snickered a little, “You have other shirts around yeah?”

“I live here, so yes.”

“There’s no need for the snark, I’m helping you.” In one fell swoop she yoinked the sleeves of his top and pulled it off him, she stumbled back from the force, but managed to get the top successfully off.

His face was entirely red, and he had folded his arms over his body. Ignoring the particularly good look she got at his biceps and forearms, she handed the top back to him.

“You should go finish changing, I’ll set my English book up.” She gave him a smile, neglecting the way her ears felt hot.

“Yeah, I’ll, I’ll go do that. Thanks for stripping me.” Iwaizumi mentally slapped his face, “Thanks for taking my shirt off.” He paused and rubbed his forehead, there really was no good way to say this that didn’t end up with him imagining pushing her up against a wall and kissing her.

She laughed at his rapid fire speech.

Iwaizumi had finished changing into a pair of grey plaid bottoms and a black hoodie when he came back out to the living room. She was wearing black sweatpants and a tight-fitting white shirt. He swallowed, before going to sit near her at the coffee table where she had the textbook open and some paper with notes.

“They’ll be back right?” She didn’t look up from her paper, finishing an outline for what she was planning on teaching Iwaizumi.

“Yeah, in a few hours.”

She looked up at him and he felt like the only person in the world. Her mouth was moving but he couldn’t hear anything. She snapped her fingers and stuck her pen into her mouth.

It was always that pen that brought him back to focusing.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I know you don’t need to be tutored.”

His breathing hitches.

“You just wanted to play Go, Hanamaki is the one that needs English tutoring.” She explained her thought process, and how Hanamaki had been the one to ask for her help. “So, let’s play Go for a bit.”

Iwaizumi went back to breathing normally again. Matsukawa’s playlist was still going, and Iwaizumi supposed that he must still have had control over the music because suddenly the song changed to “Sex Tape” by OZI and Sunset Rollercoaster.

She opened the board and began getting the truncated bowls out that held the white and black stones, while Iwaizumi messed with the radio to try and get rid of music playing.

She looked up at Iwaizumi, “Not a fan of Chinese RNB?”

“Uh, well,” He tried messing with the volume but it would not budge. Iwaizumi heard the chorus start to play and he wanted to vivisect Matsukawa down to a pulp.

She froze for a moment, letting the lyrics of, “Watch you love me like a Japanese porn star, ” ruminate in the air for a second.

“Yeah, maybe changing the music would be a good idea.” She just laughed it off though.

Iwaizumi appreciated that about her, she could let awkward moments slide off her shoulders. When he felt like embarrassment was overtaking him, she always approached oddities and uncomfortableness with an attitude of nonchalance. Which was good for him, because he often had moments like that around her specifically.

Iwaizumi was still struggling to change the music, which had now transitioned to another explicit song from Matsukawa’s favorite make out playlist. She had finished setting up the Go board, but noticing that Iwaizumi was still frustrated at the radio, she stood up and went over to him.

She put her hand over his and slightly pushed it away. She pressed the Bluetooth connective button, and suddenly Masukawa’s music was gone.

“There, now we can play.” She clapped her hands together and went back to the coffee table in the center of the room. She was sitting cross legged, bouncing her knees in excitement.

Iwaizumi copied how she was sitting and looked over the board. “I think now would be a good time to tell you I have no idea how to play this game.”

She leaned backwards and giggled. “Don’t worry, I’m an excellent teacher.”

After an hour of interchanging teaching moments and actual exchanges of pieces, Iwaizumi’s brain was fried. And he was losing, for the second time.

She cringed when he placed his black stone down on the board. “Sorry, I hate to do this.” She put her stone down, and let him look at the board again.

“Okay, you have to be cheating because I was thinking at least five moves ahead.” Iwaizumi ran a hand through his hair, leaning over the board to see where he had messed up.

“I think ten moves ahead, at minimum. That way I can plot out multiple escape routes for my pieces.” She kicked her feet a little, positively elated with her consecutive wins against Iwaizumi.

“You’re such a nerd, did you know that?” Iwaizumi rubbed the back of his neck, looking at her.

She didn’t expect to get flustered. It was just, he was looking at her in a way that made her feel all ooey-gooey inside, and the way he was sheepishly rubbing his neck had her weak in the knees.

“Yuuta is way nerdier than me, he’s almost the same rank as me, but he’s only been playing for two years.” She accepts the bowl of various candy that Iwaizumi hands her.

He moves to the couch after putting away his pieces. He chews the inside of his mouth, feeling the stinging reminder that she was not single. She still sits on the floor, cleaning up the board all the way, exactly as she liked it. The clock on the wall read twenty-five to ten.

“He seems really nice, your boyfriend.” Even saying the word made Iwaizumi feel ill.

She laughs, “Boyfriend? Yeah right, you’re funny.”

“So wait, he isn’t your boyfriend?” Iwaizumi tugged on his sweatshirt strings, making the back of the hood tighten into a ball instead of staying relaxed across his back.

She slaps a hand over her mouth with wide eyes, “Absolutely not. Yuuta's a first year, Iwaizumi.” She grimaced and slumped back into the base of the couch, her head near Iwaizumi’s leg, “Does everyone think… he and I?”

Iwaizumi contemplated, making a face that told her, ‘I hate to break it to you’.

“I’m cursed.” She threw her hands up into the air, “It’s because of those stupid fortunes my family takes me to get every year. It’s such a devastation.”

Iwaizumi reached behind himself to adjust the hood of his sweatshirt. Only to subconsciously tug on the strings again as he posed a question that he felt too much rode on.

“We could go to a shrine. Break the bad streak of luck. If you go with me then maybe your luck won’t be as bad. The one in the center of town is having a blossom festival to celebrate the end-”

“Hell yes. We’re going. Give me your phone so you can text me the details.”

“I-uh, yeah, sure, okay, yeah. We’ll go together.” Iwaizumi almost dropped his phone, pulling it out from the inside of his pocket.

She looked at the miniature Godzilla charm hanging from the case. “I really liked Godzilla Minus One, it was the best Godzilla movie that we’ve gotten in a while.” She enters in her number from memory, giving herself a special nickname in his contacts as well.

Iwaizumi blinks. Was it really that easy to get her number? And if so, why had he spent so long waiting to get it? Matsukawa was right, Iwaizumi had been preventing himself from actually getting closer to her.

Oikawa, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa rang the doorbell repeatedly, knocking loudly as well.

“Here, I gotta go get the door.”

While standing up, he trips on her leg. She lets out a short yelp. Moments like these have Iwaizumi’s brain slowing down and playing the scene that unfolds in a sort of vintage sheen.

Because he didn’t want to land on her, he had managed to grab her and bring her over the top of him. But that also meant that when Oikawa used his spare key, they walked in on her sitting right overtop of Iwaizumi’s hips, her hands on his chest. His hands had come to grip her sides, with his thumbs barely below her chest.

She was furrowing her eyebrows slightly, with a slight pout on her bottom lip as she raised her shoulders slightly, finally noticing the trio that had come into Iwaizumi’s house. She picked one of her hands off of his chest and waved sweetly, “Hi boys.”

Her only logical way to avoid a bigger problem was to duck her head down to avoid their eyes. Which caused Iwaizumi to choke and lose any sort of functioning, because her face was right above his. Not to mention she had also accidentally rolled her hips against his in just a way that made his vision blurry. He could feel the plush of her thighs on the sides of his hips and all he wanted her to do was roll her hips one more time.

So much for just an innocent crush. It had become a full blown lust and infatuation at this point.

Iwaizumi ran through his head, trying to clear out all the X-rated thoughts occurring. The fact that he now knew she was single made him feel like he could act just a little more possessively towards her.

He really needed to get a grip, because instead of just standing up and explaining what had happened, he reached his hands up to cup her face and he brought her a singular inch closer to his face, their noses fractions away from touching.

“Only say hi to me like that. You’re mine.”

She gulped, pushing her chest against his chest to lift herself off of him, her hands resting on his biceps as she pried herself away from him. Agonizingly too quick for him.

“I’m going to go get some water.” She carefully stepped around Iwaizumi and went down the other hall to the kitchen. When he heard the door shut to the kitchen he groaned and sat up.

Oikawa was red in the face, slightly fanning himself, “Even I felt something there. Geez. Did you see the way she swung her leg around and off your body, but she had to bring her chest to yours for that leveraging motion? That’s probably in the top ten dream scenarios right there.”

Oikawa sat the bag of snacks he had brought onto the coffee table, sitting on the end of the couch looking stunned.

“You need to shut up right now.” Iwaizumi patted the back of his head, his eyes shut tight. He had pulled his legs up, while sitting upright on the floor next to the couch.

Matsukawa chuckled, “Why, is recounting the experience giving you post boner stress syndrome.”

Hanamaki chimed in, “Or he’s trying to avoid getting one in the first place, consider that Issei.” Hanamaki ran his tongue over his teeth, “But I suppose he’s having a difficult time, because just thinking about that getup she had on, oh, those baggy sweatpants and that tight little shirt that hugged-”

“Close your traps right now.” Iwaizumi barked. He rubbed his eyes until he was seeing static. His brain had finally started clearing but his friends were being insistent annoyances.

He lets out a shaky breath. “Hiro, you better listen to her. She genuinely believes you’re bad at English.”

“But I am bad at English.”

“Good, you won’t have to act at all then.” Hanamaki kicks Iwaizumi in the back before sitting around the coffee table. Matsukawa hooks his music back up, playing Artic Monkeys with a reverb. Matsukawa moves his shoulders, jamming out to the music.

She returns with two glasses of water, mentioning that she’ll go back to get the other three.

The night proceeds with much less excitement. She does help Hanamaki with his English, and Hanamaki feels like he can actually understand basic sentences.

She and Oikawa play a round of Go, she beats him but Oikawa is entertained and says that playing Go was fun. She practically beams hearing his admission of enjoyment.

Matsukawa and her share playlists, she tells him that he needed to blend the energy levels of his songs otherwise it gets boring to listen to a bunch of high energy songs sequentially. Matsukawa accepts the criticism and starts editing his playlist for her to evaluate at a later date.

Iwaizumi talks, and jokes around with everyone but he can’t help but drift off when he hears her laugh at his jokes, or how she pays active, attentive attention to him when he talks about something that’s been on his mind.

So when it hits two am and she says she needs to leave, Iwaizumi feels a bit shafted. Oikawa and Hanamaki were cuddling, already asleep and snoring. Matsukawa was staring at the TV screen watching another episode of a never ending sitcom.

She’s holding her Go board and textbook in her arms as she slides her shoes back on in the entryway of his house.

They’re both whispering so as to not wake up the snorers.

“Why are you leaving?” Iwaizumi slides his own shoes on, getting the door open for her as she takes a step outside.

He closes the door once he follows her to the front porch. She shifts her things in her arms uncomfortably. Iwaizumi takes them from her wordlessly, holding them with ease and perfect balance.

“I need to go to sleep,” She yawns, using a hand to cover her mouth. Her eyes shined from the porch lighting.

“You can just stay here, and if you don’t want to sleep in the living room with us, you can sleep in my bed?” Iwaizumi shuffled his feet, trying to find the right words to get her to stay.

“I need to get home.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Iwaizumi swallows thickly.

She bites her bottom lip, but earnestly explains her thoughts, “Well, I’m in a slight tizzy. I mean, you did grab me by the face and tell me to only say hi to you like that and not to other people, in that specific tone of voice. And, uh, the whole you saying that I’m yours, remember that?”

He digs the tip of his shoe into the porch flooring. “Yeah, that’s my bad.”

“No, it’s all fine, I’m just, I just need space to think. I really did enjoy hanging out though.” She tries to take her stuff back from Iwaizumi. He pulled her stuff closer to his chest.

“Let me walk you home at least, it’s what a fifteen minute walk?”

She pursed her lips, reaching her hand out to touch Iwaizumi’s elbow. He had traded his hoodie for a simple t-shirt earlier when all the bodies in the living room brought the temperature up too much for his liking. He naturally ran hot as well. He also got warm whenever she was near. The feeling of her hand on his elbow had his heart beginning to pitter-patter.

“You’d have to walk back to your house alone then.” She pulled him closer, putting both her hands on his arms, she ignored the taut muscles. “And I wouldn’t want that.”

His heart was racing, because she was leaning in slightly, and he thought that he should’ve brushed his teeth again. In her intelligence though, his body relaxed a little, so she was finally able to grab her stuff from him. She felt a modest amount of guilt for toying with him like that, but his face was blushed from staying up too late, the heat in his ears and apples of his cheeks stemming from watching screens too long.

“So, go to bed Iwaizumi Hajime.” She smiles, “I’ll see you later okay. Don’t forget we need to get fortunes soon, I need to change my luck before Nationals.”

He nods his head, slightly stunned from being tricked a little into thinking she was leaning in for something other than to take her board and book back.

“Wait.”

She paused, already halfway down the path from his house to the sidewalk.

He must have been going crazy. But everyone has to do crazy things once in a while, he supposes.

Iwaizumi slightly rushed to where she was. Just like earlier, he put his hands on her face, but this time he pressed a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth. Not wanting to push his luck any further than it had gone so far this night, he pressed one longer, more intense kiss to her jaw as he moved his hands to her waist.

He smiled at her when he backed up, “Now we’ll have something to talk about on our date at the festival next week.”

It was all so mildly irritating. She wondered why he hadn’t just kissed her earlier, when she had been settled into his lap in his living room.

Shaking her head in amusement, she handed her things to Iwaizumi, and he felt a chill in his spine. When she gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him in for a real kiss, a lip to lip kiss, he felt his whole world burst into vibrant color.

What a tease, he thought, when she licked his bottom lip and took her things back, actually making her way down the street.

He stood outside staring at her retreating body for much too long.

When she set her stuff down on her desk, she flung herself onto her bed. Sighing deeply.

This was not good for her heart.

She remembered her second year of high school.

It was positively awful, and not to mention her repeated failures at romance were starting to make her feel absolutely uncrushable. She thought she was doing everything right, wearing the right makeup, hitching her skirt up just enough (but she returned back to the normal length after she realized she did not appreciate the staring in the hallway from that stunt).

She even tried changing the way she did her hair. Still no gentleman callers. Maybe she was determined to be unlovable.

The only person she could go to was her Go Captain, a third year exchange student from China who destroyed her in every game they played, but at least he was cute, despite the extreme gap in a language understanding. Well, her Go Captain or Iwaizumi Hajime.

She decided to go to the Go Captain first.

“Mingzhe, am I attractive?”

He raised an eyebrow, looking from side to side. He was reading a book in the corner of the library when she ambushed him, resting a hand on the table. Mingzhe looks up at her and tilts his head to the side a little, almost as if he was inspecting her.

“In what sense of the word? Because you have what I would call an attractive personality, you’re really smart and you love Go almost as much as I do.”

“I definitely love Go more than you, but thank you.” She smiles and Mingzhe thought he could go back to his book, but she kept talking. “But the other kind of attractive, like the way my body looks.”

Mingzhe’s eyes almost popped out of his head, “Uhh, I, um.” He made a fist and pounded on his heart for a moment, trying to stop his stuttering. Now, if Mingzhe was the romantic interest of this story, then more about his background would be shared at this point. Unfortunately, he’s just Mingzhe from China who loves to play Go and accidentally fell in love with his overly kind and sweet Go teammate.

Mingzhe kept stuttering, trying to think of the right words to say to her that would express what he wanted to tell her. Because how could he tell her that she was the only girl he’d ever really liked like this. The way that she always took the stones from his hand when he got too close to winning, just so she could make him pause and explain where she went wrong.

She took his silence negatively and she hunched into the chair right next to him, pouting. Mingzhe felt a pang of melancholy run through him. Maybe if he wasn’t so realistic, his story with her would’ve turned out differently.

“Sha gua,” She lifted her head at the nickname he called her frequently. “Do you know what that means?”

She rubbed her eyes, and shook her head.

“Literally translated, my nickname for you means idiot or fool.” Mingzhe puts a hand on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth a little. If he wasn’t Mingzhe, if he didn’t have to go back to China so soon, he’d want to be everything to her.

Her body shakes a little as she laughs in reaction to Mingzhe's statement. “Oh great, thanks for that Mingzhe.”

“In China though, sha gua is a term of affection, right up there with something like bao bei, which means both treasure and baby. Sha gua is a testament to the innocence you have, and my appreciation for that genuineness you carry.” It means I love you.

“Where are you going with this?” She put her hand over Mingzhe’s, and he felt his soul crack just a little.

“If I wasn’t leaving at the end of the year, I would definitely try to approach you romantically, sha gua.” He tacks on the nickname, in tandem with a genuine smile. She puts a hand to his long black hair, brushing away the strand that always fell into his deep brown eyes. She always thought his eyes looked like brown sugar tapioca pearls.

“Thanks Mingzhe.”

“Of course, xinjian.” She left Mingzhe alone in the library, so he could finish his book. She never did find out that xinjian meant ‘peak of my heart’. Mingzhe was the one who gave her her special Go board that she carried around everywhere. (Engraved deeply in the box, on the underside, in Chinese characters was his wish for her to always stay healthy and happy. Along with the address of his family home in China, if she ever did come by to visit him.)

Mingzhe’s answer wasn’t enough for her in second year, so she went to Iwaizumi for additional clarification on her attractiveness woes. Or maybe, Mingzhe’s answer gave her hope that Iwaizumi would have a similar answer.

She just hadn’t known it would be so awkward. In Iwaizumi’s defense, she had cornered him in the back of class after school had been dismissed for the day.

To say he was stunned and bothered would be an understatement in the highest regard. Because how could he think when she slightly loosened the tie around her neck and untucked her lavender button-up from her skirt. Iwaizumi kept tightening and adjusting his own tie, trying to keep his hands focused and on his body rather than letting them magnetize to her body.

“I just need to know, simply. Plainly.” She had put her hand on the side of his head, her fingertips grazing the wood of the cubbies in the back of the classroom.

Iwaizumi was sure he’d seen this scene before in a drama that Oikawa had shown him. Except, he’s in the girl’s position and not the guy’s.

When she puts her foot in between his feet, he can feel the way his thighs threaten to give out on him. He’d been reduced to jello and she didn’t even know it.

“Know what?” At least he could reign in his tone of voice, staying flat.

“Am I or am I not attractive?”

He had wanted to say she was absolutely adorable. But given the way he could feel her body heat from how close they were, his assessment of her attractiveness had gone from cute to downright gorgeous. How a fellow seventeen year old could act like this, he did not understand.

“Yeah, you’re, you’re good looking.” Way to go Iwaizumi, he knew that if Oikawa or Hanamaki or Matsukawa could see him now, they would have either used a slingshot to put him out of his misery or taken a photo and posted it with the caption of, “Top Three Most Epic Fails in Romance.”

“Okay, thank you, I appreciate it.” She brought her hand back, no longer on the side of his face.

Iwaizumi liked her near though, so he grabbed her hand. She looked at him in the eyes, and he looked at her in the eyes.

His boldness was about to be curbed if he didn’t say what he wanted to say right in that moment, “Be my first kiss? As, uh, my treat for answering your question?” He was ready to go and dig his own grave.

“Sure.”

Iwaizumi almost shuddered, almost.

It was a clash.

Neither of them really knew what they were supposed to be doing, or where their hands were supposed to go. They had both settled for holding onto each other's necks lightly.

It was a series of closed mouth brushes of their lips, that was how Iwaizumi’s first kiss went. She had kissed a boy before, in middle school at a party, but she suddenly was wishing that this was her first kiss instead.

When she pulled away, Iwaizumi cleared his throat. Slowly nodding he adjusted the straps on his backpack.

“Thanks,” He started, “I have to go play volleyball now.”

“Yeah, yeah. Totally get it.” She was twisting her foot, digging it into the floor as she kept her eyes hesitantly on Iwaizumi.

Walking to the gym, Iwaizumi pressed his hand against his heart and begged it to slow down.

She realized that maybe high school boys just didn’t go out of their way to confess to her because they were too busy with other things, as demonstrated by Iwaizumi’s focus on volleyball. At the end of the day, she didn’t need external attention to give her internal validation. But it would’ve been nice.

She thought about Mingzhe from time to time. But Iwaizumi always stuck to her thoughts much longer. Second year was when she realized that she liked Iwaizumi, but she just couldn’t tell him. For her, what she had with Iwaizumi was a longer game that expanded much further than high school. Like a good game of Go, it had exchanges and bold moves between players.

Her second year didn’t carry totally throw away memories she concluded, curling up in her bed to finally go to sleep.

By Monday, Iwaizumi was positively giddy with excitement at seeing her again. He had a whole plan for their outing after school on Friday, and he wanted to tell her everything. When she wasn’t in her seat by the first bell, he looked around the room to see if she was silently slinking her way to her seat. Then when the final morning bell rang, he slumped into his chair in irritation.

By lunchtime, she still wasn’t at school, so he decided to go and investigate, making his way to the first year hallway, looking into all the classrooms.

He saw Ito Yuuta, her not-boyfriend, sitting at his desk, playing on a Go board by himself.

He entered the classroom and put his hands on the desk, making a slamming noise that wasn’t too jolting, seeing as Ito was still fidgeting with the stone in his hand.

“Yes?” Ito pressed the stone to his mouth, then quickly set it down. He input where he placed the stone on his phone, waiting for the computer to make a move so he could set the corresponding piece down, trying to beat the Artificial Intelligence system known as AlphaGo for the second time today.

“Where is she?” Iwaizumi brought his head down to force Ito into making eye contact.

Ito made a sour face, unamused with Iwaizumi, “She’s at a tournament today, the posters for it have been up for like a whole month.” Ito rolled his eyes, “It’s at the central Miyagi Gym, she’s playing in the 5 dan ranking bracket.”

Iwaizumi tensed his leg, ready to get to the gym as soon as possible, “Are spectators allowed?” If Iwaizumi wanted to be something to her, he figured he needed to break out of his shell around her and commit, and show that he wanted to be with her.

“It’s almost like all the captains of our sports team were asked to attend. You play volleyball, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Do yourself a favor and find a girl who’s more into guys like you. She’s on a whole other level, whatever interest you have in her will be short-lived.” Ito places some more pieces down according to the computer input. Ito was only teasing, he wanted to make sure Iwaizumi was sure about her.

“Guys like me?”

Ito smiled, standing up to his full height. “Guys who don’t play Go. Guys who are brainless muscle heads. Guys who lack basic skills of strategy. Guys like Iwaizumi Hajime.” Ito wondered what the reaction would be, slightly dismissing his game.

Iwaizumi brought his head back in offense, shocked and appalled at what Ito was saying. A bitter look on Iwaizumi’s face was all Ito needed to feel self-satisfied in his jests. Iwaizumi felt like a fish, with how his mouth gaped open and closed.

“Listen here you little bastard- I don’t know who you think you are, but clearly your ego is too big to contain within the convoluted mind game you’re trying to play with me.” Iwaizumi stuck a finger in the center of Ito’s chest, and Ito lazily held his hands up. “I like her. Genuinely, I like her. I want to go support her, so clearly I’m doing more than you.”

In all honesty, Iwaizumi was just trying to make up for what he considered lost time. He had spent years waiting for the right time to get closer to her, but now wasn’t the time to deflect, to deter, to do anything that would slow the progress he had been making. Iwaizumi was going to make her his, regardless of what anyone would try to tell him.

“It’s not me you have to worry about, it’s the other Go players. There’s an entire array of guys who would literally kill to be with a player like her, a 5-dan player at her age. You’re not fighting with me, you’re fighting with the guys who play Go professionally and rake in the big bucks at 19, 20, years old.” Ito wondered if Iwaizumi knowing he had competition would make Iwaizumi scurry away. Ito was genuinely glad when Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and left the classroom, because that showed that Iwaizumi wasn’t scared to go all in for her.

Another day's work for Ito Yuuta in the books. Now if only he could beat that stupid AI Robot.

Iwaizumi knew that Ito was just trying to get in his head. So he just made his way to Miyagi Gym, taking one of the posters from the hallway to make sure he could get there in time to see her play.

He got there within fifteen minutes, thanks to Matsukawa’s moped that he borrowed.

He held the helmet under his arm as he entered the gym, looking around for directions or a chart. She would be in a higher bracket, he knew that, but he had no idea what the 5-dan ranking was about that Ito had gone on about.

Then he looked over to a screen that had her on display, making a focused face at a game board.

Iwaizumi saw her in person pretty soon after he asked around, she was sitting criss-cross on her chair, across from a boy who looked about their same age. The boy looked much more stressed than she looked. She looked like a picture of calm, almost bored if Iwaizumi was being honest.

She placed her stone down, and leaned back in her chair with a smug smile on her face. Iwaizumi couldn’t help the smile that drew across his face watching her seem satisfied.

“I pass.” Her opponent threw his hands up in the air and shook his head.

She placed one more stone and her opponent groaned and grabbed strands of his hair. She started collecting her opponents pieces and then shook his hand across the board.

An older woman, mid-forties maybe, announced the winner of the round. The announcer held her hand up in the air and she bowed to the audience, and then went and individually bowed to a group of people holding clipboards.

Iwaizumi cheered so loudly from where he was standing, and she caught sight of him immediately. She smiled, but then waved her hand in a ‘be quiet’ gesture. He nodded and started walking over to her.

She got handed a paper from the announcer and she held it so tightly, Iwaizumi thought she would rip it. She quickly made her way over to Iwaizumi, who was standing near the entrance of the subsect in the gym.

“You won? Right? Otherwise my cheering that ended up really bothering that guy who looks like a lemon was a waste.” Iwaizumi tried to sneak a glance at her paper, but she held it close to her chest.

“Yes, I won. I can’t believe you’re here. I didn’t know you wanted to come watch me play?”

Iwaizumi scratches the back of his head, “Well, I missed you. You weren’t in class.”

He missed her whenever she was gone. This was just the first time he had told her.

She laughs, “Usually tournaments are on the weekends, this is the only one I’ve ever had on a Monday.”

“Ah, makes sense. Is anyone else from Aoba here?”

Iwaizumi felt upset that people couldn’t appreciate her. He decided he would just have to appreciate her all the more.

She shook her head ‘no’ with a slight frown.

“I’m here. If that means anything at all.”

“It does mean something that you showed up, even though you’re also missing our math class so conveniently.” She poked his cheek with her finger, Iwaizumi shrugs with a grin on his face.

“One question before we celebrate,” She nods, urging him to continue, “Is your buddy Ito always such an asshole?”

She slaps her hand on her forehead, “What did he say.”

“Oh, he said quite a lot. Nothing I can’t deal with though. But he’s criminally mean, how do you deal with him?”

“He’s mad because he wasn’t invited to the tournament, he spent a lot of time practicing this year and to not get an invite to National Qualifiers kinda put him in a slump. Although, that doesn’t excuse anything he said.” She tucked her paper into the back pocket of her jeans, then gave Iwaizumi a hug.

He liked the hug a lot. He hoped there would be a lot more of them in store for them.

Iwaizumi, letting his curiosity get the better of him, lightly reached behind her to grab the paper. Letting his hand rest on the top of the curve of her backside, just high enough where he could play it off as his hand was on her waist. She let out a gasp at the touch, then he pulled her into his right side so he could read the paper, holding it out with his left hand.

He read through it quickly, scanning for keywords.

“So, you’re my Miss Miyagi Representative at Nationals then?”

“Don’t say it like that, just say Miyagi Representative.” She ducked her head a little, putting her face into his shoulder.

“Why are you getting all shy? This is an amazing accomplishment.” He held her shoulders with his hands and shook her a little, eliciting a laugh from her.

“The winner of the 5-dan bracket at Nationals can become a 6-dan player, just two dan levels below a professional ranking, isn’t that crazy!” She looks a little crazy, but the way her eyes shine with excitement and the way her mouth runs a mile a minute, and the way her hair looks sort of messy all settle into Iwaizumi’s heart comfortably, making themselves at home with his spirit.

“I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying but you’re really cute saying it.”

She rolls her eyes. Her expression changes for a second, shifting from playful annoyance to confusion.

“Iwaizumi, are we friends now? Is that what this is?”

He freezes, “I thought we were already friends? This is me trying to be more than friends.”

She lets out a knowing sound, understanding more than she did before.

“I mean, is kissing something you do with all your friends? Because if so, I’m going to need you to reconsider what you define as friendliness.”

“No, I don’t kiss my friends.” She hits him lightly on the shoulder.

“Good, because I don’t know if I’d be able to handle that. You know, my jealous streak and all that.”

She just loops their arms together and they walk out of the gym.

She ended up winning at Nationals, and Iwaizumi was there to cheer obnoxiously when she won there as well. She thanked him personally because when they went to the blossom festival at the central shrine, she ended up getting a lucky fortune.

What she didn’t know was that Iwaizumi had seen through the paper, and knowing that it was unlucky, got her to set it down to look at some of the stringed lights. And when she went to look at the lights, he swapped their fortunes.

Just so she could have his lucky charm.

He supposed he didn’t need a lucky charm, because she was all the luck he needed.

But even luck runs out sometimes.

He was sitting on the couch, listening to her talk about her college plans. They’d only been out of school and graduated for one week and she had sat him down in her living room to explain what the future holds for her. She was pacing back and forth in front of him, explaining the situation.

Iwaizumi recounted a synopsis of what she had just said.

“You got a full ride to University of California-Irvine, to play Go?”

“Apparently they wanted some cultural diversity, and they wanted me specifically at their school. It’s technically an exchange system, where I attend Tokyo University, but stay in California. But I’d get to teach Go classes, and I’d have a team of players that I would travel with to China and Korea, and home to play with at international tournaments.” She froze, and stood right in front of him.

“I guess you have to leave then.” Iwaizumi folded his arms, and she could tell something was wrong.

“Well, we knew that we weren’t going to be at the same university, so I don’t know why this is such a shock for you?” She lifted her eyebrows, giving him a look of concern.

Iwaizumi pursed his lips.

She sat down on her knees in front of him and tugged on his hand. “Hey, what’s going on behind those beautiful brown eyes of yours?”

“And I guess I’ll have to accept the offer from University of California-Irvine to do an exchange year then.”

She gently slapped his hand, “You’re such a prankster, I can’t believe you made me worry.”

“Oh, don’t stop worrying about me. I never said that.” Iwaizumi grabbed her hand and kissed her palm a few times, then moved his mouth so that he could rest his lips on her pulse point within her wrist. “You’re going to have to call me at least twice a day, and I’ll need you to send me all of your meals so that I can make sure you’re getting enough nutrients.”

“You’ll definitely need to stop worrying about me.” She groaned slightly, trying to get her hand away from Iwaizumi, but he pulled her up and into his lap. He put his face onto her back, his hair tickling the nape of her neck.

He liked being in California with her, but he’d only get to stay for one year, so he’d have to make the most of it.

Which is why he tried to spend most of it at the beach, trying to get her to play volleyball with him.

“Then after I receive it, you do that two handed toss I showed you, bringing the ball back to me so I can spike it over the net.” Iwaizumi was shirtless, wearing swim trunks, and had sunglasses on. If she was being honest, she was distracted by her fiance’s body movements and didn’t pay a lick of attention to the things he was trying to teach her.

She nodded though, taking off her swimsuit coverup, not wanting it to be in the way of the game. She was left in a black one-piece, with a large cut out in the back. Iwaizumi ran his hand down her exposed spine and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, before getting a volleyball tossed at his torso.

On the other side of the net was a guy that Iwaizumi had introduced as Ushijima, and one of her Go teammates who seemed very romantically interested in Ushijima.

Iwaizumi walked backwards for a moment, then he threw the ball up into the air and hit it with the center of his hand. The game was afoot.

Her friend received the ball with a practiced ease that convinced her that she was the only one who did not understand volleyball.

At the end of the game, Iwaizumi was hitting Ushijima’s back and telling him better luck next time. The four of them sat on a large beach towel and ate cut up pieces of watermelon that she had brought. Iwaizumi was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him, one hand behind himself to prop him up. Ushijima was trying to hide his face from how her teammate was leaning closer and closer to him, talking about this and that.

Iwaizumi and her made eye contact, and Iwaizumi glanced over to where her friend was attempting to get Ushijima’s number. She sighed, ate another piece of watermelon and laid on her back, wiggling her hips a little to get comfortable on the expanse of the towel under the hot sun.

“Where do you want to live after we graduate?”

“I don’t know, I can play Go wherever I want. It’s a very portable game, you know.”

“You’ve told me that a few times before.” Iwaizumi stole the watermelon she had picked up with her pointer finger and thumb, just putting his mouth around her fingers and using his tongue to leverage the piece out of her control.

She let out a sound of disgust at his actions.

He wiggles an eyebrow teasingly, and leaned over her, putting one hand on her back and the other cupping her face softly. He looks to her lips then back to her eyes, she nods rapidly. He slots his lips into hers, working up to the right intensity.

She can hear the way her friend suggests that they and Ushijima should head to get popsicles, and to her surprise, Ushijima agrees.

Iwaizumi breaks out of the kiss for a second, still brushing his lips against hers as he speaks, “I thought they’d never leave.” He slides his tongue into her mouth, gently coaxing her to make the noises he loved to hear.

She pulls back for a second, “You know we’re still in public right?”

“I know, but now I can do this without getting watched by a high school friend of mine.” Iwaizumi slid his hand down to her thigh, and twisted himself around, so that she was straddling his hips. She was on top of him as he was sitting up. He let out a happy hum when she rested her hands in his hair, curling the strands around her fingers. “I think you should just always stay in my lap.”

She starts kissing his neck, then jokingly starts sucking on his jawline. He murmurs a little, asking her to keep going, and she giggles. She moves a hand down to rest on his abdomen, tracing along the lines of his muscles.

“Watch your hand.” He grumbles a little, her hand just a little too low for his own sanity. He kisses her cheek and then goes to nip at her earlobe.

“Watch your mouth.” She leans back but his head follows her, trying to capture her lips again. He lets out a complaining noise, muttering an apology.

“My bad.” Iwaizumi gives her a light kiss, pouting when she doesn't kiss back, “Please.” He kissed her again, and she still didn’t kiss back, “Kiss me.”

“You’re so whiney sometimes.” She pulls him by his neck into a deep kiss and he makes a noise she can only comprehend as a happy chirp.

So what if Iwaizumi Hajime was mildly bothersome to her, she had the rest of her life to be bothered by him. She had the ring to prove it.

[thepieisalie]

A snippet from “Chapter 1: Visiting Hours” of my Azula redemption fanfic:

—

Context: Zuko visits Azula in the asylum

…

The room was depressingly empty, aside from a single wooden chair by the wall and the bed under the ‘‘window.’’ Most of the rooms in the psych ward had at least some furniture or decorations to liven it up. Azula’s room used to have them too, at the very start. Most of it had been burned to a crisp by now. And if Zuko had to guess, that chair wasn’t going to last long either.

Azula sat on top of the bed, crawled into the corner. Her arms were restrained in a straitjacket, as well as her feet which were held together by chained cuffs. She only had a little bit of movement free so she could walk if she wanted to. She had her face turned towards the wall and was softly mumbling to herself.

Zuko felt his stomach churn at the sight of his sister, but he ignored it and forced himself to remain calm. He pulled the chair into the middle with his foot, since he had his hands occupied with the tea. The noise caused Azula to stir and turn. Her eyes darted wildly until she recognized him and that controlled demeanor he was so used to returned on her expression.

‘’Hi, Azula,’’ he said softly as he sat down on the chair. She didn’t say anything back. She just watched him. He was quiet for a moment before awkwardly motioning to the cups he was holding. ‘’I uh, brought you something.’’

She looked at the cups, then back at him. Entirely unimpressed. ‘’How am I supposed to drink tea in a straitjacket, Zuzu?’’

He was a little taken aback by her comment but continued.

‘’I thought it would be nice,’’ he said as he placed one of the cups on the floor next to him. ‘’For you to have something from home. Maybe the tea could lend you a little dignity.’’

She huffed a short, mocking laugh. ‘’Don’t you talk to me about dignity. Not while you keep me in here.’’

Zuko inwardly cringed. He knew she was right. She looked anything but dignified right now. She was extremely pale and her hair was a knotted mess. That was probably because she was so difficult about the nurses touching her.

‘’Would you like me to take you out to the gardens? It’s a nice day for—‘’

‘’I’m not interested in being wheeled around to look at flowers. Why are you here?’’

Zuko sighed, breaking eye contact to look at the steaming cup in his hands. ‘’You’re family. Do I need to have any other reason to come visit you?’’

‘’You have a strange idea of caring for family, Zuzu. Given you have each of us locked up.’’

‘’You’re not locked up,‘’ he began to argue, but Azula gave him a pointed look. Zuko sighed again. ‘’Do you want the tea or not?’’

She eyed him for a moment before giving a very small nod. Zuko leaned forward, holding the cup to her lips so she could drink.

‘’Do you ever think of Father?’’ he asked her after she finished.

‘’Hmm, sometimes,’’ she said as she looked past him in thought. ‘’Sometimes I think of Mother too.’’

That caught Zuko’s attention. ‘’You do?’’

Azula nodded, still not looking him in the eye. ‘’I know she’s behind all of this. She probably send you to come here today. I know it. She can’t fool me.’’

Zuko instantly felt a heaviness weighing on his chest. Dr. Sun Chen told him before that Azula would sometimes have mad ramblings about their mother. The doctor claimed it was some sort of trauma response. He had no idea what that meant.

‘’Do you ever wonder what happened to her?’’

Azula shrugged. In the best way she could with the jacket on.

‘’I’ve been trying to talk to Father about her. But he won’t speak to me. I was wondering if maybe you could try to talk to him.’’

Azula’s eyes filled with clarity again and her gaze instantly fixated back on him. ‘’So you did come here with a reason.’’

‘’Please, Azula. You might be the only person who can get anything out of him.’’

She looked away for a moment, pretending to think it over. ‘’Fine. But I cannot go speak to him looking like this. If you want me to face him, I must be allowed to do so with some dignity.’’

Zuko closed his eyes, clutching the cup in his hand a little tighter. He knew she was trying something. Using his own words against him. He needed to remind himself that even though she had been in the institution for so long, her personality had not changed.

—

You can read the rest of Chapter 1: Visiting Hours on AO3, by clicking the link below!

[solivar]

Ghost Stories On Route 66

Chapter Six

“Hanzo.”

Zenyatta’s voice sounded as though it were coming from significantly further away than a distance of a few inches. The slender, elegant hand cupping his jaw felt more like the memory of touch than its actuality.

Hanzo. Now that was far, far closer -- echoing behind the eyes he didn’t remember closing, forcing them open again. Zenyatta’s eyes glowed a cool silver, like moonlight on dark water, held his own effortlessly, and again he spoke without sound. I know that it tempting right now to disassociate from your flesh, my friend, but you cannot. You must not. Your presence here may be all that protects your body from far worse than this. Please, do not let go.

Hanzo forced himself to take a breath, a shaky, painful breath, and then another, and by the third he croaked out, “I won’t -- I promise -- I -- “

“Good. Good. Breathe.” He did, and a few breaths later he could feel Genji’s death grip on his wrist again and a few after that he could hear Hana and Lucio urgently asking questions in low, tense voices. “Please, my friends. I will answer what I can in a moment. Genji, please pull his sleeve back down.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Genji juggle his phone enough to free a hand, and then he felt his arm being covered again. Somehow, that made the churning shock and horror tumbling around inside his head like a sack of rabid wolverines feel slightly less agitated and a tremor of relief ran through his body. Zenyatta saw, and risked a glance away of his own. “Lucio, do you still have that roll of duct tape in your bag?”

Lucio, as a matter of fact, looked as though he’d been hit in the head with a brick -- possibly, Hanzo was forced to admit, by a brick made out of psyche-damaging dread of the sort he hadn’t expected to encounter in the dining hall. Which wasn’t to say that the dining hall didn’t provide a frequent source of existential trauma, it just usually wasn’t the eyeballs where they shouldn’t be type.

“Wh -- what?” Hana elbowed him in the ribs with sanity-jostling force; something visibly clicked together behind his eyes. “Yeah -- yes, I do.”

He fished around in the stygian depths of his messenger bag of holding and came up with an almost untouched roll of tape. Zenyatta accepted it, smiled the sort of gently encouraging smile that would make world champion athletes set new personal best records, and released Hanzo’s chin. “Hana, may I borrow your Sharpie for a moment?”

Hana wordlessly unclipped her signature pink Sharpie from its place on her keyring and handed it over. Hanzo watched, from a delicate, incipient-emotional-breakdown shaded distance, as Zenyatta methodically tore off three strips of tape approximately six inches long and then wrote something on them in a script that resembled no alphabet with which he was familiar and which left vividly pink afterimages on the inside of his eyes when he blinked. “Hanzo, this may be...somewhat uncomfortable. Genji, I am going to need you to brace his arm while I do this.”

Genji propped the phone up against the stack of pizza boxes occupying the middle of the table and, yes, that was his Ranger looking worriedly out of the screen and from the way the image kept bouncing around it was fairly clear that he was in a vehicle and whoever was driving that vehicle had little to no concern for the limitations of either terrain or speed or possibly respect for human life. His brother slid close against his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, whispering something in his ear that his mind absolutely refused to process. The first piece of tape went around his wrist, positioned precisely between the cuff and the skin itself to keep the sleeve in place, and it sent a jolt of something not quite pain but at least a close cousin to it all the way from the tips of his fingers to his shoulder. The second went around his forearm just below the elbow and this time the jolt was much stronger and pain’s cousin gave him a call and Hanzo could feel something writhing beneath the surface of his skin. In retrospect, he was pretty glad that Zenyatta had the sense to make sure his sleeve was covering that because he was reasonably certain that, should he have to look at it, gibbering madness would likely be the only rational outcome. The third went around his bicep and this time the jolt was a nerve-sizzling sensation not entirely unlike that one time he’d accidentally grabbed the business end of a live shock baton in his bare hand with similar head explody inducing results. When he regained consciousness, probably only a few seconds later, his head was lolling in the curve between Genji’s neck and shoulder, Lucio and Hana were bustling around the table gathering up plates and cups and chattering back and forth in a state of pseudo-cheerful sassy action camouflage, and Zenyatta had his brother’s phone in hand, consulting in a low, even tones with the Ranger. His skull was still buzzing hard enough that not a single bit of anything he could hear made even the slightest trace of sense, not the soothing words his brother was whispering against his ear, not the friendly smack-talk going on between their roommates, nothing --

In the distance, he heard it: low, soft, barely above the ambient noise level, weaving through the senseless babble of human voices as though it were trying to hide among them. A howl , a reverberant, continuous ululation, modulating upward through a range of tones until it reached the deep-throated baying of a creature on the hunt.

At his back, Genji went tense, the arm around his shoulders and the hand still cradling his wrist tightening involuntarily. Lucio and Hana came to a complete halt and exchanged a glance, all the color draining out of Hana’s face as they did so. Zenyatta lifted his head and listened, his expression perfectly still.

“You heard that, didn’t you?” Hanzo asked, his voice a shaky rasp.

“Yes.” Genji replied, and that admission in his brother’s voice unlocked the uncontrollable full-body tremors that had been waiting for just that opportunity to come charging out.

“You need to go . You need to get as far from me as possible and I -- “ Hanzo stumbled to a halt at Zenyatta’s upraised hand.

“We are at the UNM main campus Student Union.” He said, calmly, evenly, and somehow that made Hanzo’s heart stop trying to pound its way out of his ribcage, slowed the tremors to the occasional rogue shiver. “Yes, I believe so. I will call you when we are secure.” He hung up and stood, slinging his messenger bag across his shoulder. “We must move. Quickly. ”

For an instant, total physical and mental paralysis greeted those words from pretty much everyone -- even Genji, Man of Action, didn’t so much as twitch out of his seat, admittedly because he might have been pinned in place. Then, Genji kicked his chair back and bodily hauled Hanzo upright on unsteady legs, gathering up their bags and handing them off to Hana. Hana slung their bags over her shoulder and nudged Lucio into motion, his face still fixed in the most perfectly appalled expression Hanzo had ever seen him wear. He nonetheless took Hanzo’s other side as his legs persisted in their misbehavior and together helped haul him along in Zenyatta’s wake as he cut a path for them through the dining hall and out into the second floor mezzanine beyond.

“Where are we going?” Hana asked, loaded down with three bags not her own and apparently feeling much more secure for it.

“Luminaria Conference Room -- no windows, only one entrance, and it is not currently in use.” Zenyatta led the way to the stairwells and the elevator. “We should...probably not trap ourselves in a small box that can be made to stop moving.”

“Stairs it is!”

Hanzo’s legs perversely steadied as they climbed and by the time they reached Luminaria’s door he could stand on his own and insisted on doing so as Zenyatta used his faculty access pass to allow them entry. Once inside, he relocked the door and stepped aside as Genji, Lucio, and Hana proceeded to barricade it with a folding conference table and all the chairs that were gathered around that table. Zenyatta liberated the roll of duct tape from Lucio’s bag and methodically circled the room clockwise, pasting torn-off strips of tape to each wall and writing on them in that afterimage-inducing script. Hanzo followed him and aided as best he could, tearing strips of tape, pulling aside tables and chairs, helping Hana build a secondary barricade in the middle of the room out of three more tables in a triangular formation and a selection of chairs at strategic points. She shoved him down inside it without any discernable hesitation and Zenyatta finished what he was doing and all-but sat on him in order to keep him there.

“What are we waiting for?” She finally demanded, poking her head above the edge of the barricade.

“The ranger and several of his colleagues are on the way -- they should be here presently.” Zenyatta replied, serenely, the fingers of both hands woven together in that mudraish way he had.

“ How presently?” Genji asked, his hands hanging loose at his sides, eyes slightly too bright, a little too iridescent.

The lights overhead flickered once, twice, and went out.

“Hopefully enough. ”

The emergency lights came on a moment later, far dimmer than they should have been given their dedicated internal power sources. A heartbeat after that, Hana lit up their little nest of presumed internal safety with her phone’s flashlight and her headphones’ exceptionally vivid pink lights. Also exceptionally vivid: the spheres of cool silver-blue radiance that burst into existence around the perimeter of the room, perfectly aligned with the strips of tape, banishing the deepest shadows to the furthest corners.

“Zen, please tell me you’re doing that.” Lucio sounded a little less than totally steady, for which Hanzo could hardly blame him.

“Yes, I am.” Zenyatta replied, perfectly calm, but frowning at his phone. “Does anyone have any bars of connection?”

Four phones were pulled from four different receptacles. Hanzo gazed with a certain desolate but not particularly surprised horror at the bright red X where at least five bars of wireless connection should have been and glanced up to find Hana and Lucio doing likewise.

“I will take that as a ‘no.’” Still perfectly calm. “Does anyone have connection to the school’s wireless service?”

Hanzo checked, just to be sure that their isolation was as complete as possible, and was also not surprised to discover that no connections were available.

“Zen,” Lucio asked, poking his head above the edge of the fort, “could your...glowy orb things be cutting off our connections?”

“It is extremely unlikely.” Zenyatta replied, and began tearing off a few more strips of tape. “My boundary wards do not, in general, impede standard functions of reality. Or even telecommunications networks.”

“I cannot believe,” Hana muttered at him, “that you’re being stalked by the supernatural equivalent of a coronal mass ejection. ”

“Sorry?” He slumped back against the table surface providing one third of their little triangular fortress’ walls and scrubbed a hand down his face.

“What do you suppose the ranger will do if you don’t contact him?” Genji asked, somewhat less than idly Hanzo thought.

“Preferably, drive faster.” Zenyatta replied dryly.

Something struck the outer wall -- struck it hard enough that the force of the impact visibly rippled across the surface, so hard that the orbs themselves danced in its wake. Hana squeaked and ducked back down, dragging him with against his will and piling on top of him as though she intended to protect him bodily. She was joined an instant later by Lucio, whom he rather suspected intended to protect them both bodily. A brief, intense burst of vividly green light shone through the cracks in their hidey hole, productive of another series of dismayed squeaks, and then Zenyatta was kneeling next to the barricade, applying more strips of freshly scribed tape to the outside. “Be calm, my friends. That was not something to concern you.”

“Are you freaking serious? ” Hana asked, incredulous.

“He’s right,” Hanzo wheezed from around the pressure her elbow was applying to his solar plexus. “That was Genji, not the thing.”

“Genji?” Lucio poked his head over the top of the table. “...Where did that sword come from?”

“Trust me when I tell you that it’s a long story. One that we were planning to tell you sooner rather than later.” Genji replied, lightly, and a second blow shook the opposite wall, sending a crack shooting from floor to ceiling through the plaster.

“What’s it doing?” Hana whispered through the crack where the tables met, as Zenyatta taped it over.

“Testing the structure of the ward barrier for weaknesses would be my educated guess.” Zenyatta replied and laid more tape, the tip of the Sharpie squeaking as the wrote.

“Are there? Weaknesses?” Hanzo could feel her trembling and did his best to wrap a comforting arm around her.

Zenyatta paused and was silent for a long moment. Then, quietly, “I am certain there are. Whatever happens, I must ask you three to stay down and inside this barrier . Please.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” Lucio, gods love him, rolled to the side, and put his back against the base of the triangle. “Hana, let the man breathe for heaven’s sake.”

“Oh!” She scooted back, as well, and Hanzo propped himself up on his elbows and from there slouched back against one of the tables. “Sorry about that.”

“No apologies necessary.” By unspoken mutual impulse, they all set their various light-producing devices in the middle of the triangle to supplement the pale silvery glow of the orbs now ringing their little bulwark. “I am more -- “

“What was that about no apologies being necessary?” Hana cut him off.

“This is...not quite the same thing, Hana.” The fingers of his left hand tingled sharply, the sensation running all the way up his forearm, as though he’d just spent an hour sleeping on it at a terrible angle. “Your lives are in danger because of this. I -- “

“You’re right. Our lives are in danger. You can make it up to us in awesome cover art and attractive liner notes for our first -- what, six, maybe eight pro releases?” Hana flicked a grin at Lucio. “More if one or both of us flunks a midterm because, seriously, this is the world’s worst supernatural bullshit timing.”

“Make it an even ten and we’re golden.” Lucio replied, scanning over the tops of the tables. “Man, why is it so quiet? ”

“You are far better friends than I deserve.” His shoulder ached with a dull throbbing pain and he rolled it slowly in an effort to relieve the tension in it. “I -- “

Come

The breath stuttered to a halt in his chest and, for a moment, all he could hear was the pulsing of the blood in his temples as his head went lighter and lighter.

Come

It took all his strength to breathe again.

“Hanzo?”

“It -- “ He fought for the clarity to speak. “I can -- “

Open

The pain seized and shook him like a terrier with a rat in its jaws, sharp and stabbing, from the center of his chest to the tips of his fingers, and it was all he could do to curl around it, desperate, wordless noises escaping him.

Open the wards

The words throbbed inside his skull, driven deeper with every pulsation of his heart, every ragged breath. He felt, beneath his fingertips and beyond any conscious act of his own will, the tape bound around his wrist, felt his nails bite in, felt it begin to stretch and tear.

LET ME IN

“ Hanzo, stop!”

The tape came away from his wrist, taking with it a strip of skin, and tore raggedly across the script. Bilious yellow-green incandescence boiled up through the fabric of his sleeve, corrosive in its intensity, dissolving both the sleeve and the tape wound around it to blackened, crumbling threads. Filaments of that sickly light arced out from the surface of his flesh and hung there for an instant, swaying nauseatingly on their axes like serpents coiling to strike and, when they did, it was with serpentine speed and viciousness. Zenyatta’s wards blinked out of existence in coruscations of conflicting energies, silver-blue spheres overwhelmed and broken from within by hungry, loathsome tendrils boiling their length with extrusions that were almost teeth, were almost eyes. The sound that came out of Zenyatta as it happened was made up of entirely unequal parts of shock and pain and was still ringing off the walls as the light all-but died and darkness rushed in to fill the place it once occupied.

Hanzo felt something trying to force its way up his throat. It was, as it turned out, the sort of laugh that could be assessed as maniacal, malicious, or malevolent and, accurately, as all three, and it completely suppressed his desire to start screaming and never stop. Hana and Lucio, recognizing this as the self-preservation instincts activating signal that it was, decided not to stay in the now-broken ward triangle with him. Or, rather, Lucio sensibly decided not to stay and dragged Hana, kicking and struggling, with him and as far away as he could reasonably manage given the confines of the room. At the vast, insulating distance kindly lent to his conscious mind by substantial quantities of traumatic psychic shock, he felt his body begin to move through no voluntary impulse of his own, pushing himself to his feet, turning to face his friends. Lucio still had one arm around Hana’s middle even as he tried to dislodge the small mountain of folding chairs piled in front of the door one-handed. Hana was staring at him with the sort of genuinely heartbreaking anguish that would have gotten her all his available hugs, were he in any position to dispense them. Genji knelt with Zenyatta lying senseless in one arm, his sword braced tip-down against the floor in the other hand, his face a mask of horror and his eyes burning with grief and rage. Something about that made that hideous laugh fall out of him again, shoulders shaking with perverse and vicious mirth.

“Whoever’s in there, GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR! ” The shout was muffled, from outside in the hallway, and for a fraction of a second, Hana, Lucio, and Genji all froze in place at the sound of it.

Then Hana stopped struggling and dove at Genji and Zenyatta, all three going down together with a startled squawk from his brother, who absolutely did not expect to be bodily covered by a woman he outweighed by a substantial margin. Genji emitted a second, louder but rather more strangled squawk as Lucio joined the pile, dragging the lone unused table with him in an effort to provide them with more protection.

The subsequent explosion not only opened the door, it flung it across the room, along with the table and chairs piled in front of it, and embedded sizeable chunks of all of them into the far wall. The acoustic tiled ceiling closest to the door collapsed, taking portions of the far walls with it, raising a choking cloud of dust that took on the stomach churning illumination that his body was still shedding, that eddied and swirled as someone entered the room.

“Jamie,” A heartstoppingly familiar voice, sounding more than a little aggravated. “I think I remember sayin’ we needed to do this with minimal force.”

“That was minimal force.” Less familiar, but still enough to earn the designation. “Look, if I were really overdoing it, it would have knocked the floor out too and at least a couple of the walls would be down and not just cracked and sweet zombie Christ on a pogo stick, WHAT is THAT.”

The sound that emerged from his throat probably constituted some kind of evil titter. The voice that came off his tongue and past his lips sounded like it belonged to the sort of creature that would spend weeks slowly torturing small, innocent things to death and, in all likelihood, did. “ Witch-thing.”

The ranger stepped into the poisonous glow he was casting, dust whorls and strands of tainted energy alike swirling away from him, as though touching him would be their end. He was wearing the crimson-and-gold cloak Hanzo remembered from the house and it clung to him like a shield, its reflection catching in his eyes and lighting them with points of color that glowed in the near-dark. Behind him, a pair of shadows -- one mountainously huge, the other merely enormously tall -- began dislodging the wreckage of the ceiling from atop his brother and his friends.

“Witch-thing.” The voice possessing his throat crooned again. “It is so good to see you again. I have missed you, all these years.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same.” The ranger replied, his face a still life in planes of shadow and unholy light, eyes burning crimson. “Hanzo, darlin’. Can you hear me?”

YES! Hanzo wanted to shriek but his voice remained still and all his frantic efforts to use it yielded were tears, blurring his vision, rolling down his cheeks.

“No,” Purred the thing and, inside himself, he screamed and raged and beat against it, to no particular avail at all. “And...even if he could...what would you do? His flesh is mine. His soul is mine. Press me, and I devour him whole and leave his empty husk at your feet. Step aside.”

The gunshot was sharp and loud, concentrated by the relatively enclosed space of the room. Hanzo’s ears rang, almost enough to drown out Hana’s involuntary cry of shock, and the stunned, wordless noise that came out of his own mouth. Distantly, he felt the beginning tremors of what was certain to be quite a lot of pain.

“Well, I gotta say, that’s where you’re wrong. Y’see, I’ve picked up a few new tricks since we last had one o’ these little chats.” The ranger shrugged insouciantly, the barrel of the gun he’d drawn and fired, so swiftly that Hanzo couldn’t even remember seeing it happen, still smoking gently. “Part of the job, y’know.”

“You -- “ The thing choked out, around a mouthful of something that didn’t precisely taste like blood but which nonetheless had a certain piquant saltiness to it. “You -- yátaashkï -- “

“Uh-huh. Tell me something I don’t know.” The ranger stepped forward and caught him close, free hand around the back of his neck, the barrel of the gun pressed into his belly.

The thing spat out a mouthful of not-blood and rasped, its voice a cutting edge of hate and fury, “I will eat your heart before I am done.”

“Yeah, yeah, good luck with that.” The sound of the hammer cocking was loud between them and his voice soft against Hanzo’s ear. “I’m sorry. This is going to hurt.”

It did, in fact, hurt but only briefly. As his consciousness faded into all-encompassing bright nothingness, so did the pain. The last thing he felt, as the ranger lowered them both to the floor, was the sensation of being enfolded in warm, strong arms, safe and protected, and the last thing he heard was his brother screaming his name.

[voice-of-barsoom]

Fictober Prompt "Nobody warned you about me?" Pacific Rim AU

(Featuring @tangleweave 's Phil Coulson, with permission.)

Pan Pacific Defense Force /  Los Angeles Shatterdome Jaeger: Ares Stingray Pilots: Dejah Carter (hiatus), John Carter (deceased) Status: In the final stages of refurbishment after a combat with category IV Kaiju, Ravatra, wherein Pilot John Carter met his end, ripped from the cockpit mid combat.

~~~

[ Personnel evaluation required. Jaeger pilot in previous good standing is experiencing psychological distress and exhibiting self-destructive behavior after the death of their co-pilot.  Asset has decades of experience and would be a grave loss of institutional knowledge and skill should she be forced to retire. Pilot has resisted mandated trauma counseling and has resorted to self-medicating with alcohol.  Other issues noted: sleep disturbances, aggressive behavior towards colleagues, and a casual attitude with authority.  She is currently occupying the cockpit of Ares Stingray as living quarters, under the guise of 'repairs', but with the true motive to inhibit the final refit of the cockpit which would release the Jaeger back into the duty roster.  Handle with care. - PPDF Psychological Officer, Maj. P. Coulson ]

The Marshal met him in the admin coffee lounge, file in hand. "You're up, Coulson."

"Sir." He read the file and saw his own handwriting in it. "Oh." As the base Psych Officer, the mental health and well being of their stable of high speed, hard charging pilots was his bread and butter. He frowned at the file, thumbing through it again, even though he knew it by heart.

"Problem?"

"Sir, this is — a delicate situation."

"Yes, yes it is.  That's why you're up.  She's been under your watch for six years now.  You wrote her original psychological review."

"I did. But this…"

"Phil, I don't want to lose her.  She's really good at what she does."

"She also just lost her drift partner.  While in the drift.  I don't know any jaeger pilot that could come back from that.  By all rights, she should have died right there with him. Forget the physical scars she bears now.  The survivor's guilt alone is crushing her, not to mention the loss of a bonded partner."

"So you're saying we should just write her off?"

"No.  No that's not what I'm saying at all. She's tough, I know that much.  But this.  This is a huge ask."

"Better get to it, then."

"Yes, sir."  The Marshal nods and turns to go, but Coulson isn't done. "There's only one way for me to do this, you know that?"

"I don't care how you do it, just get it done, Major."

"Right. In that case, I need to tender my resignation."

~~~

He moved like smoke and thunder, dodging her strikes with the bo staff and shedding the blows that did land with the gentle motion of a reed in the wind, answering with no small power in return.  He took her to the mat twice, before she came up red-eyed and snarling, swinging for his head. Her usual bouts lasted fifteen, maybe thirty seconds, tops, and usually whoever fought her walked away with something bleeding.  That was not happening today.

Today, she'd showed up to practice with the perennial dark cloud over her head. When faced with the familiar face of the base Psych Officer, she sneered, rolling her staff over the back of her hand and then around their body, like a scorpion brandishing their spike.  "This isn't Arthur Murray, you know. It's a different kind of tango."

He didn't blink, just offered her a dark smirk. "I think I can handle it."

"Can you?"  She grinned, a predatory look in her eye.  "Let's find out."

A moment later, she struck, and she kept striking, expecting for wood to meet bone at any second.  She was sorely disappointed.  Instead of panicking like a first year cadet, he was calm and centered in the eye of her storm, answering her blow for blow.  The bout stretched from seconds to minutes, and it was close.  Everything she threw at him, he had an answer for.  Blows echoed off the steel rafters, and a crowd began to form, everyone including the techs stopping their work to watch.

"Had enough?" He quipped, resetting as she came around for another pass.  He'd just begun to break a sweat. She answered with a strike at his hand, one he barely fended off. "No?  All right then."  He stepped back gave the staff a little flourish.  "I can do this all day."

Her eyes flashed and she charged.  She ended up flat on her back, again. This time, she'd didn't sit up straight away.  He stared down at her, wiping a forearm across his eyes to clear the sweat away.

"What's the matter, Princess? Nobody warned you about me?"

"You sit behind a desk. You push papers.  You might play at this game," she growls, rolling herself up and standing, refusing to surrender.  "This game is life and death to me.  Kaiju don't boast.  They just kill you."  She circled around him, catching her breath and studying him as she went.  He seemed to be anticipating her every move.

He smirked at her, knowing it would only stoke the emotion burning in her belly. "You've been through hell.  Nobody here is denying that.  But do you think John would approve of you today? Showing up late to practice, hungover, attacking cadets so you can feel superior?"

"Shut your damned mouth," she hissed.  "You don't know anything."

"I know enough.  You're hurting.  And instead of doing the hard work to heal, you're trying to make others hurt, too.  You won't find your solution that way, Princess."

A war cry tore from her throat and she launched herself at him again.  Again, she ended up ass over tea kettle, with his boot on her wrist.  "You're only hurting yourself.  I don't have to tell you that."

"Who gives you the right to stand in judgment? If you're here to give me the boot, fucking get it over with."  Her voice broke and with it, the crowd that had gathered sensed a desperate need to be elsewhere.  Pilots were known for working out their issues on the mat, and nobody could judge them for that.  Not when they were the only people standing between them and planetary annihilation.

Phil offered Dejah his hand and she glared at him, not even looking at it.

"I have to judge you.  It's my job.  Or it was until this morning, when I tendered my resignation."  That made her blink. Was he here to enter the pilot program? The facts quickly reshuffled behind her eyes.  He kept talking, like a horse whisperer soothing a fractious young colt. "I know you're not stupid.  And I think you know we're drift compatible."  He spoke quietly, his hand still extended.  "I also think you know a lifeline when you see it."

Dejah licked her dry lips, her fierce gaze not relenting for a moment. "You have a lot of nerve, talking to me like that."

"Somebody needed to say it, Princess."  For the third time, he gestured for her to take his hand.  Was she going to be too proud to acknowledge his new status on her team?  What would that look like to all the other cadets here?  She thought hard for a long moment, rage and grief boiling in her blood, and then slapped her hand against his forearm, letting him lever her up to standing.  "Don't fucking call me that," she growled, and she separated from him with a little shove.

"There we go," he chided gently. "Why don't we shower and find some place quiet to talk.  Say, the cockpit of the Ares Stingray?" 

Her sanctuary.  The last place she'd seen John alive.  Her gaze fell to the mat and she had to steady her breath.  Even not in the Drift, he could feel the waves of anguish the suggestion brought.  "You're bringing the whiskey," she answered.  A moment later, she stalked off towards the showers.

"Fair enough," he responded to her retreating back.  To himself, he adds, "Not bad for a day's work. Not bad at all."

[lovenhlboys]

From a Distance (E.Pettersson x Reader)

Chapter 5

Masterlist

Be added to series taglist

A/N: I have finally graduated!! now I have time so I can work on this until its finished, and trust me, it won't take too long, I'll release the other chapters on a faster, more regular basis since I don't have much else to do, and cause I've had the plan and ideas for the rest of this story for so long. I thank you for your patience with me and I hope y'all love it!! And as always Ash is my savior and I love her @imagines-r-s

change in POV is signalized by:

Y/N= regular ELIAS= italics

(any other info is on the masterlist)

Warnings: cursing, Mentions of Psych, baby & baby talk, loving of dogs, goalie being essentially psychic

Words: 3.3k

Summary: some reflecting on prior events happens.

Well, it has been quite the day for you. You never would have thought anything like this could have happened. “Freaking out” isn’t strong enough to describe your current state. You need to talk to someone, god you’re so happy right now. So you call Quinn.

“Hey, Quinny!”

“Sup Y/N/N?” he answers

“I’m picking up from work, and I'm about to head home, where you will be there too, with a bottle of our favorite wine and some take-out.”

“Got it, something important happened?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” you still couldn't stop smiling.

“Ok how important, expensive wine or REALLY expensive wine?”

“Uhhh in between,” you decided.

“Ahhh ok, can't wait. See you there, bye!!”

“Bye, Huggy”

You finish packing up and text Brock to tell him that you and Quinn are having a wine night, to make sure he knows to be somewhere else.

As you’re walking out, you call Holly.

“Hey, Babe!”

“Howdy!”

“God I always forget you interned in Dallas,” she says laughing.

“You pick that shit up quickly, I’m telling you. even the Fins were saying 'y'all'"

“So what’s up?” She asks.

“Are you free tonight, cause I have some very big news so it’s a wine night.”

“Umm, let me see if Bo wants to have the guys over and watch Gunnar” you hear her call her husband and ask him. “He said sure!”

“Okie Dokie! Text Quinn that you’re coming too, so he knows to get your usual from the take-out place” you tell her.

“Will do, and Y/N/N?" she says before you hang up.

“Yep?”

“Do you want me to grab ice cream?” She asks, already knowing your answer.

“Of course!”

“Ok, see you there” she hangs up.

You drive home jamming out to your music, as everyone should. You still can’t believe what happened today. It feels like it happened last week but it also feels like you never left that break room. Hopefully, Elias won’t mind that you’re telling Quinn and Holly. As long as you tell them not to say anything to the other guys, all should be well.

Once you get home, the dogs greet you at the door, “Oh hi! Hi sweeties! Oh yes, yes hi Coolieee, oh you’re such a cutie,” you drop your bags and get down on your knees to get on their level. When you get on your knees, Milo knows it means you want him to hug you, so he hops up and puts his paws on your shoulders. “Hi, hi, hi, oh thank you for the hugs. Oh yes auntie loves you soooooo much mmwwaaa”

Quinn is there and has everything set up and ready to go, so you change into your sweats and grab your blanket, and sit next to Quinn on the couch, grabbing your glass of wine and food before you sit down. Now you just have to wait for Holly

“Sooo, what’s the news?” Quinn asks you.

“Holly isn’t here yet, we have to wait.”

”Oh so it’s that good?” He raises his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” You question, taking a sip of your wine.

“Well, when the news isn’t that important you usually don’t care if she hears it after me, or I hear it after her. But when it’s super important news, you have the other one wait.”

“Hmm, well then yeah. It’s pretty fuckin’ great, I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling for like 5 hours.”

Just then Holly comes in the door with Gus under one arm and a grocery bag full of ice cream in her other hand, “hi puppies, yes I have your friend with me”

“Oh! Hi Burton!!” You say with your puppy voice.

“Ok, why do you call him Burton? I never understood that.”

“It’s from one of my favorite shows!” You exclaim

“Y/N/N I don’t know if you know this but you, your brother, and Quinn all have like 50 “favorite TV shows” I’m gonna need you to say more than that,” she says to you as she grabs her food from the counter, and heads to the couch. She sits on the side of you not occupied by Quinn.

“Ok, rude,” Quinn sassed.

“It’s from Psych. One of the main characters is called Gus, but his first name is Burton, and the police chief and one of the detectives calls him by his full name which is Burton Guster, so there.”

“Got it.”

“Ok, Holly no more distractions,” Quinn starts, sticking his tongue out at her, she returns the gesture. “So what’s the important news?”

“Oh, you didn’t tell him yet! So it’s really important!” she says.

“Hmm, I guess I do do that,” you realize, “I would actually like you guys to guess” you take a bite of your food, smugly. Knowing neither of them would even have an idea of what to guess.

“Hmmm,” Quinn hums, he looks like he has a mischievous grin “does it have to do with a certain Swede?”

“Wha-“ you choke on your bite of food, Quinn is giggling at your reaction, “the fuck? How’d you know that?”

“Well umm, a certain brother of yours may have asked me if he should do that plan.”

“Why would you do that?’ you whined, upset at your friends for teaming up on you. You couldn’t imagine what you would’ve done if that plan didn’t work out the way it did today.

“Did it work?” He asked with a grin.

“That’s not the point, asshole!”

“See but it worked! He doesn’t hate you anymore, now you can flirt your ass off and make him see you as more than a friend” he tells you.

You laugh, he has no idea what happened in that break room.

“Ok, I’m out of the loop here, what happened?” Holly interjects

“Ok, well my idiot brother and apparently my asshole best friend came up with this plan-“

“Actually Marky and Thatch knew about it too,” he stops you from interrupting, “AND, to be fair, you can’t blame Brock for going to us. I mean I’m your best friend, and the goalies are just good at planning and doing crazy things”

“WELL. Those dicks that I call my closest friends and family, decided it was a good idea to lock me in one of the Canucks break rooms with Elias fucking Pettersson because he hated me and they wanted us to get along”

Holly starts laughing, “oh my god, they did not” she continues to laugh and Quinn joins her. You roll your eyes at them both.

“Yes, they did. I was not a happy camper. But it worked out and he doesn’t hate me.”

“See, I knew it would work! And like I said, now you can work your moves and get him to like you as more than just a friend.” He grins again.

You grin “Oh, also that’s the other part.” You take a long sip of your wine, both Holly and Quinn stared at you wide-eyed, waiting for you to finish, “turns out he’s a great kisser”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said softly, he took a breath “WHAT?”

“Yeah, would you like more details?”

“Fucking- yeah,” they said simultaneously.

You went on to explain the events that happened in that incredible breakroom

“How the fuck did he keep that a secret, and why?” Quinn exclaimed, clearly confused that he didn't know something so big about who he considers one of his best friends.

“I don't know, but both of you have to absolutely promise me that you won't tell literally anyone else, ok? Not Bo, not Brock, not Demer, Stech, Marky, nobody!”

“Yeah, yeah that's fine,” Holly said, waving her hand in dismissal, wanting to get past that and know more. “So how do you feel?”

“Like the luckiest girl in the world,” you said while giggling with a big smile.

“Y/N/N. I’m so happy for you.” Quinn says with a genuine smile.”

“Ok, enough about me. How were your days?”

“Not as interesting as yours, but Gunnar and I spent the whole day out and about with Bo, and now I’m having a great wine night with you guys so it’s been a pretty amazing day.”

“Yeah, well I spent the whole day waiting for Y/N to come to kill me cause I thought she’d find out I had something to do with that whole situation,” Quinn says.

“Well let me just tell you, Hughes, if it hadn’t ended up the way it did, I may have had a few words for you.”

“I know, that’s why I was panicking the whole day”

“OH MY GOD” Holly shouted as she looked at her phone

“What, what’s wrong?” You ask

“Umm, you are going to LOVE this shit, Y/N/N”

She thrusts her phone in your face. When you look down you see a picture of Elias holding Gunnar, with a toy you hadn’t seen before. Elias looks so happy, looking down at the baby Horvat. Then there’s another alert on Holly's phone, “ohmygod,” you mumble. The alert is another text from Bo, it’s a video this time. You press play. In the video Elias is playing with Gunnar, using a high-pitched baby voice “oh yes you love your new toy that the best uncle in the world got you! Yes, you do cause I’m your very favorite, yes I am. You are just so cute, so lucky you got your looks from your mama, yes you are.”

From behind the camera, you can hear Bo, “Hey, have you looked at him, he looks just like me”

“Daddy is crazy, isn’t he? Yeaaaaah” Elias says to the boy.

The video ends and you see what text Bo had sent along with the picture and video

Bowie 💙: Yes, he got him ANOTHER toy. If he keeps this up, we’re gonna need a bigger house just for the toys lias gets him

“This boy is going to be the death of me I swear to god,” you say, handing the phone to Quinn, and placing your head in your hand. That video was literally the cutest thing you’ve seen in about 5 years.

You continue to talk, you end up explaining what Elias had told you about not doing anything else yet, and what he had said regarding that. You all finish eating and eventually decide on watching some ’how i met your mother’.

After they leave, you spend the rest of the night replaying the events from the break room in your head. Imagining what will eventually happen with you two. You truly can’t believe it. You’ve never felt this way about anyone and you’ve only known he likes you for about 12 hours. Elias Pettersson is going to be a special, if not the most special person in your life. So you pull out your notebook and a pen that you always keep next to your bed and you write your thoughts down.

First, you write the date at the top then skip 2 lines

Elias Pettersson, I think I love you. I know it’s too early to say and we’ve only had one day together, but I need to write this down.

It looks ridiculous and cheesy now that I’m reading it but if my gut is right, which it normally is, I just had to write it down. I had to tell you. If not in real life, at least just in this notebook. As cliche as it sounds, maybe I can show you it one day. I mean I do love myself a hallmark movie, so maybe this can be like one of those.

You sign it at the bottom, close your notebook, and place it back in your drawer.

You’re such a hopeless romantic and you kinda want to make fun of yourself, like you would do if you found out any of the guys did this kind of thing. ( And if you’re being honest, you wouldn’t be surprised if your own brother would do something like this. Your parents kind of instilled a love of romcoms in you guys at a young age.)

So once your thoughts have settled, you close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

Elias’s night wasn’t that much different. He arrived at the Horvat residence with some snacks for the boys, and a new toy for Gunnar, as always. Every time he sees one he knows Gunnar will like, he buys it...it’s a problem.

“Petey!!” Stech shouts as he gets up to grab the snacks from him.

“So how was your daaaaay” Thatcher asks from the couch.

“I’m sure Brock has inform you of how my day went”

“‘Inform’ us he has. But OUR plan is what caused this. WE worked very hard on it” Thatcher says, chuckling.

“Wait, who all knew about it??”

“I didn’t!” Bo shouts from the kitchen!

“And neither did this little boy, he would never betray me,” Elias says, grabbing Gunnar from Brock on the couch and carrying him into the kitchen, the other guys follow. “And guess what Gunnar!!! I got you another toy, cause I’m the best uncle you have, yes I am.”

“Another toy Lias?? Really, I’m going to need to make a whole mother room for all of the toys you get him if you don’t stop”

“But why would I ever stop when he is the best boy ever! He deserves the world, yes he does,” Elias says, looking at Gunnar the whole time.

“Ok, now it’s time for him to have dinner,” Bo says, grabbing Gunnar from Elias.

“So… all of you knew?”

Stech, Brock, Demer, and Marky all nodded, with a guilty look.

“What about you? Elias said, looking at Nils. Nils looked guilty and nodded slowly “my own son? Really Hogs?”

“I’m sorry, I just wants to help you!!”

“We all just ‘wants’ to help you, Petey!” Marky said, mocking the youngest Swede’s mistake. All of them would do that to both of them, make fun of them when they messed up, they just wanted to help them, it’s all in good fun.

“Ok, I know but what if it didn’t work, what would you guys have done?”

“Elias my dear, the point is that it did work. And now Brock won’t have an aneurysm every time you and Y/N/N are in the same room together” Troy says, placing his arm around Elias’s shoulder.

“Yeah Petey, all we wanted was for you to like her as much as we do!” Thatcher said.

“Ok, I never hated her, I just-”, he paused trying to come up with what he was going to say next, “I don’t socialize well, it’s hard for me to talk to people, ok?”

“Which is exactly why we did this. Y/C/N/N is a sweet girl, we just needed to give you both a push since you’re essentially the same person” Marky said.

“LITERALLY” Brock shouted, “ I swear, the more and more I hang out with you, Petey, the more I realize you and my sister are the same. Like sure, she and Quinny are best friends. And like they’re both similar like they’re both shy, awkward, nice, and stuff but you two have the same humor, need for attention, sassy bite, etcétéra etcétéra.”

“Oh my god, you’re totally right! And their fake self confident-ness thingy!!” The other guys shouted assorted affirmations to Nils’s comment.

“What do you mean ‘fake self-confidence thing’?” Elias was confused.

“Both of you do a something where you say stuffs like “well I’m hot, so..” or “cause I’m the best” and my favorite “because the people likes me better than you” but neither of you feel that way far down. You both just like to act like you more confident than you are really.”

“Damn, he called you two out, and he’s so right” Bo chimed in with a chuckle. “Ok, well now that he’s done eating, Marky, can you and the baby Swede go out and pick up the pizza?”

“Yes sir, captain sir!” Marky said saluting Bo.

The rest of them talked while they waited for Gunnars stomach to settle.

“Hey Petey, wanna go grab drinks from the store with me,” Thatcher asks.

“I think we’re good actu-“ Bo starts

“Petey” Thatcher insists with a look that says that’s not exactly the reason why he wants Elias to come with him. And he knows better than to say no to a goalie who gives him that look.

“Yep,” he gets up and follows Demer out the door.

They get in the car and that’s when it starts “so,” Thatch says, “how long have you liked her?” He asks.

“I- uh what? What are you talking abou-”

“Oh save it blondy, I have a 6th sense about this shit.”

“Damn goalies. At least Marky doesn’t know,” Elias mumbles under his breath.

“Oh he definitely does, he just hasn’t said anything for some reason” he laughs.

“How do you know he just doesn’t know?”

“Cause I know this shit, bro. He may have even been messing with you since he and Y/N/N are cuddle buddies and shit. Just to get you to make a move or something”

“HE MADE ME DO THE OPPOSITE! I thought they were together for the longest time until she told me TODAY” That made Thatcher laugh, you know, Elias’s pain and suffering is just HILARIOUS.

Once he calmed down he continued to talk, “Ok, well you didn’t tell us the whole story of what happened in there, so spill” he said as they walked into the store.

“We may have talked”

“....bitch that’s not it, keep going”

“And we kissed a little,” Elias said, face turning red.

“That’s my boy!” Thatcher clapped him on the shoulder.

“You're only 3 years older than me”

“And you're only a year older than Nils, who you claim as your ‘son,’ so shhh” he retorted, “so I assume you two talked about it after, actually knowing you two, that may not have happened,” Thatcher said as they checked out.

“Ha ha ha, yes we talked about it Douglas,” Elias said with an eye roll. “I just told her that I can’t do anything till I do something” he said as they got into the car again.

“What’s that “something” you have to do?” The goalie questioned.

“Talk to her older brother that may just kill me if I tell him so, I’m not too pumped about that.”

“Have you forgotten how much Brock loves you? You’re each other’s work husbands, I think if you tell him he’ll be shocked, but he’d be ok with it.”

“But you didn’t hear what Brock had said about his friend chad in high school! He beat him up and cut him out, I don’t want that to happen to me”

“Petey, if you feel as strongly as I think you feel about YNN then I think you have to tell her, or that would be an extreme disservice to you, her, and honestly my mental health, so you have some work to do.” He said as they finally walked into the Horvat house again.

“Yeah, Petey you have to work on some stuff, like your hair!” Brock quipped.

“Shut up, frat boy, not all of us can have a luscious flow like you.” Elias jabbed back, “oh hi, how’s my favorite person here? Is your tummy settled now, can I finally give you your new toy?”

“Yes, you can,” Bo says, handing his child off to the blonde Swede.

Elias took Gunnar down to the floor, where his new toy was, and played with him while talking in his baby voice, at some point Bo took a video and sent it to Holly, and also his insta story. But that’s ok, he loved his little ‘nephew,’ and honestly, his day couldn’t have gone better.

Tagist: @calgarycanuck @suffering-canucks-fan @2manytabsopen @lovethepreds @callllumhood @mellany1997 @yourlocalgranolagirl54 @all-time-fanatic @Fitnessfreak498 @mysoftboybowen @peachyotps @kale-makar @kentjohnsons @iwantahockeyhimbo @aeyyy-ohhhh @peteysimp @nhlindblom @mitchsmullet @dolphinahabsfan @starswin @heunderwoo @hockeymockeryandlove @peteysimp

[illfoandillfie]

Pet Names, Double Dates and Other Fiascos

READ PLATONICALLY

Request:  SECOND ARO FIC OH MY GOD !!!! maybe them getting a lil dirty and ben really does a number on reader, so he takes her to mcdonalds or sumn and the waiter says something along the lines of “you’re such a cute couple!” and reader gets really uncomfortable with it maybe??? and ben being taking her home and cuddling her PLATONICALLY and he’s like “it’s ok we don’t need to let anyone else’s opinions affect us”

Pairing: Aromantic!Fem!Reader x Ben Hardy

Summary:  It's (nearly) all fun and games until someone assumes your relationship is romantic.

Warnings: Smut, kitchen sex, floor sex, oral sex (f receiving), a mild hint at choking, vaguely dom!Ben but not intentionally lmao, discussions of aromanticism and queerplatonic relationships, not as dialogue heavy as the first part though. 

Words: 7, 264

A/N: Happy Arospec Awareness Week!! Big thanks to the anon who sent in that request when I asked for ideas for future chapters. I put a little bit of a twist on your idea but it’s fundamentally the same. Also the last scene is one that I’ve been thinking about for literal months now and I finally managed to fit it into a fic! 

As always, if you’re curious about anything to do with aromanticism I am very happy to talk about it and answer questions! 

Taglist:  @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @ilovequeenmorethanyou​ @johndeaconshands​ @borhapbois​ @stardust-galaxies​ @cherries-n-rocknroll​ @scorpiogemini

The day had started off well. You woke with Ben tucked up under your arm, his legs curled up towards his chest since you’d stole the covers as you’d slept. Your face was pressed against the back of his neck and you felt him shift as you sighed sleepily and tried to keep from waking. Squeezing your eyes shut and pretending you hadn’t stirred must have worked because the next thing you knew was waking up to an empty bed and tinkly tapping sounds from somewhere else in the apartment. Groggily you shuffled out from the inviting comfort of the mattress, stretched, and pulled down the hem of the shirt you’d slept in to better cover your otherwise bare thighs before following the noises. You found Ben, still in his pyjamas (well, his boxer briefs) in the kitchen, dropping a couple of toasted waffles onto a plate, humming to himself.

“That for me?” you asked, stifling a yawn. “It can be,” he said, passing the plate to you with a quick kiss on your cheek, “There’s some cut up fruit and the maple syrup out on the coffee table and there’s coffee brewing over there,” “Thanks Benny,” “You’re welcome, Puddin’,” “Puddin’?” “I thought it was cute,” “Very cute.” You laughed as you reached for your coffee, unable to help but smile as you left the room. The first few months of your partnership had taken some adjusting and one thing Ben had decided he would do to make you both feel more at home with the dynamic was to come up with some non-romantic based terms of endearment for you. You’d vetoed things like baby and honey straight away, all of them a little too heavily skewed towards romance, or just reminders of past relationships you’d tried to force yourself into, for you to enjoy them. But, as Ben had said, he liked a good pet name, and he’d seemingly been determined to prove as much, constantly coming up with new things to call you. You, never really one for pet names anyway, mostly stuck with Benny or Benjamin if the situation called for something longer but you had a few other go-tos – things like Pet and Blondie as signs of affection, or Handsome and Tiger when you wanted to make him blush.

A few minutes later Ben joined you on the couch, placing his coffee down beside yours, almost spilling it as he watched the news story that was playing. “Remember we’ve got that double date with Jill and Martin this afternoon,” you said, the memory only just coming to you yourself. “Yeah, what time was that?” “Hang on, I’ll check the chat.” You scrolled through the messages on your phone with one hand while you ate with the other, “uhhh right, yeah, meeting at the bowling alley at 1.30.” “Bowling? Good, better than another shitty movie,” You laughed, “hey the last one they picked wasn’t too bad.” “Yeah I know, just not in the mood for it since I’ve been on set all week. I know if I went to the cinema now I’d just get distracted thinking about all the behind the scenes stuff which isn’t ideal for becoming invested in the story. Plus they’re always choosing romcoms, doesn’t that get annoying for you?” “Not really,” you shrugged, “I mean, do I sometimes wish they’d branch out? Sure. But I enjoy romance in fiction I just don’t need it in my real life. Don’t get me wrong though, very happy to do something different this time.” “How long d’you think we’ll be out?” You shrugged, “A few hours maybe?” “We should pop to the shop on the way back then. You need milk and we could get something nice for dinner.” “Sounds good. Does that mean you’re staying over again tonight?” “I was planning to, yeah. Barely saw you last week so I was hoping to spend all weekend with you to make up for it.” “Bet you regret agreeing to go out with them now,” “Kinda. S’pose it’s too late to cancel though,” “Nah you still could but you know they’ll get stroppy about it and we’ll have to go out with them next week. They don’t have any other couple friends since Neil and Percy split and Bianca took her fella overseas.” “Yeah, wasn’t seriously suggesting it.” “What would the plan have been if we did cancel?” Ben chewed a mouthful of fruit thoughtfully, “you, me, your bed. No need to be too quiet since Sophie’s still out,” he glanced at your roommate’s bedroom door, his eyes swinging back to you as he continued, “Or y’know, we could do a puzzle and listen to music all day, have a cat nap after lunch, whatever.” “You’re cute when you’re being all lazy,” “There would be nothing lazy about it thank you very much,” “Cat naps aren’t lazy?” “You know that’s not the part I was talking about,” “It wasn’t? Then what won’t be lazy,” you tried to hold back a giggle in the middle of your faux confusion but broke when Ben blew a raspberry at you in response.

Nothing more was said about cancelling as you finished your breakfast, though truthfully you probably wouldn’t have minded if Ben had cried off sick and rescheduled the double date. But you both decided that Sunday would be a day for just the two of you to make up for having to spend Saturday afternoon with others. Instead, you spoke of the week just passed and commented on the news still playing on the TV. When you were finished (Ben using the last corner of one of his waffles to swipe the remnant syrup from his plate) you stood and stacked the sticky dishes in your arms. Ben collected the coffee cups and a few other assorted dishes from the previous night, leading the way towards the kitchen and the dishwasher. He loaded his small collection onto the shelves before turning to grab the top plate from the pile you held. A noise of disgust rose from his throat as you held the plate out and he miscalculated the trajectory, his palm landing in a puddle of syrup and fruit juice. You were torn between laughing at his expression and taking the opportunity to toy with him a little but, always ready to tease him, your desire to see him blush won out. Trying not to smile too much, you reached forward and wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling his palm closer so you could lick the sweet syrup from his skin. Predictably his cheeks turned pink and he pulled his lip between his teeth as you let him go with a laugh. “Bet you’re really wishing we didn’t have to go out now, huh Tiger?” Ben didn’t respond but he did react, his eyes locked on you as he swiped his fingers along the same plate and held them out in offering. Not quite sure where things were heading but very keen on finding out, you leaned forward and let your lips part slightly. He took the action for what it was, an invitation, and trailed his fingertips across your lower lip before slipping them between the two. He watched closely as you sucked his fingers deeper, using your tongue to lick up the sweet residue. There was still an element of novelty with this aspect of your partnership. Still part of you that was intensely aware that it was Ben’s fingers in your mouth. There wasn’t any hesitation though, hadn’t been since that first time when you’d both had to psych yourselves up to actually look at each other naked. But there was a part of your brain that was almost surprised when you found yourselves at the edge of a sexual situation. You suspected he was similarly discombobulated by how easy it was for you to end up there, how frequently playful teasing and friendly jokes turned into hands grasping at bed sheets and breathless moans against sweat-slick skin. He pulled his fingers free from your lips, unwilling or perhaps unable to shift his gaze away from the thin string of saliva that connected them like some kind of erotic spider web that you were both already caught in. You waited to see what he’d do next, feeling your heart race in the pregnant pause so full of potential. And then he moved. You laughed as he grabbed you around the waist and lifted you at the same moment he stepped towards the bench, your legs instinctively wrapping around him. He kissed you too, hungrily, as if it were impossible to resist. You’d looked down at him and suddenly been pulled towards each other, lips meeting with all the force and attraction of a magnetic field. Usually, he would have had a hand against the back of your head or your jaw but carrying you meant both his hands were already occupied so instead you substituted your own, tangling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck to keep him from pulling away too far. As soon as you were safely positioned on the edge of the bench though his hands were free to fall elsewhere. One pressed against the small of your back as the other squeezed your thigh, encouraging you to keep your legs spread. Not that you could have closed them with Ben standing between them and not that the thought had even crossed your mind.

If you’d had all day Ben probably would have taken his time with you. Despite what he’d said earlier, you’d discovered Ben had a soft spot for slow and sensual intimacy. Making out that gradually built to passionate kiss-filled sex, foreplay that included soft caresses and whispered praise, anything that let him explore your body in intricate detail with his hands and lips. You’d been with guys like that before and had hated their insistence on linking hands and kissing you slowly. Those relationships never lasted long but with Ben it felt different, it felt good. Maybe it was because he knew you weren’t on board with overtly romantic acts and respected those boundaries you’d talked about so you never felt as if he were pushing you into a roll you didn’t enjoy. Or maybe he was just a better lover than they had been. Either way, it came to same result. You still preferred something less gentle and more energetic, though you felt you better understood the appeal of being held so close and kissed so tenderly. But with only a few hours before you’d have to start getting ready, Ben was inclined to speed things up a little. His hand quickly slipped up your thigh to press against your pussy, the cotton knickers you’d slept in the only thing keeping him from direct contact. You broke the kiss suddenly, the smacking sound loud in the small room, and dipped your head to press your lips to the notch between his clavicles. In response, Ben lifted his chin, exposing more of his throat to you and you took the chance to playfully nip at the junction where his neck and shoulder met. “Oi, no marks,” he said lwoly as you moved to kiss back up towards his jaw. “Afraid I’ll brand you with my initials?” “If you could legibly write your initials in hickeys I’d put up with whatever teasing the makeup ladies gave me,” “I’ll give it a crack then shall I?” Before you could so much as flick your tongue over his skin, Ben had raised a hand and placed it over your mouth to keep you from testing our your writing abilities, “Don’t think theres enough time, Sugar, but if you really want to I’ll let you try tonight, on my thigh where no one is likely to see it.” “Make it your arse and you’ve got a deal,” you said though it was a little muffled by his palm. “Fine,” he laughed, drawing his hand away, “But then I get to try it on you too,” You nodded, grinning, and then both fell into giggles, leaning against each other’s shoulders. This was what you’d hoped for when Ben had first approached you with the idea of being partners, what you’d been afraid you’d never actually find. Someone who would follow your tangential jokes even if it delayed sex. Someone you could be yourself with. You were distracted from the thought as Ben pressed his lips to your shoulder over the sleeve of your shirt. “Should I continue?” he asked, still smiling though softer, his fingertips lightly dancing over the crease of your thigh. “I’d be offended if you didn’t” “Can’t have that,” he leaned in to catch your lips once again, at the same time resuming stroking you over your panties so that you felt all the air leave your lungs in a rush. It felt good but you need more and so shifted your hips, trying to press yourself harder against his fingers. To get more leverage and better brace yourself as your centre of gravity changed, you dropped a hand behind you. Intuitively, Ben shifted the hand on your back higher and closer to your side to help keep you steady, the other still drawing lines along your clothed slit. You gasped as his thumb took up residence against your clit, rubbing it firmly so a visible damp patch began to form on your panties.

Ben grinned at you as your breath came harder and dragged his thumb back down away from your clit towards the leg of your underwear. Still watching your reactions, he twisted his fingers up under the material, gently tracing them along the same path they’d just followed only now he could feel your wetness directly. “I’ve got an idea,” he said, leaning close to your ear, as he circled your entrance with a fingertip before pressing it into you, “of how I’d like to fuck you right now. It might take a little flexibility on your part though. I mean, nothing too much, just getting your legs up on my shoulders.” Curious, and more than a little distracted by the addition of a second finger inside you, you nodded, “Sounds fun.” “Knew you’d say that. Just tell me if it’s too uncomfortable,” “Will do.” You leaned forward as Ben moved back a little, taking his fingers with him, giving you enough room to drop your hand to his crotch and grasp his stiff length through his undies, “Just get on with it.” “Puddin’ was too nice a nickname for you. Sugar too.” he gasped as you dragged your palm along his length and back again. “What’s the matter, Tiger?” “Maybe I should call you Tiger, if you’re going to keep grabbing my cock like that,” You laughed and let him go, leaning back on your palm again, “Tigress? Whatever, doesn’t matter. Are you going to fuck me or not?” “No I just wanted to get my dick hard for no reason,” he said sarcastically, poking his tongue out at you as he pushed his underwear down. “You’re such a –” you broke off with a sharp gasp as Ben tugged your underwear aside and pressed into you without warning, “dork.” Ben chucked and leaned in to kiss you quickly before readjusting your position a little by pulling you closer to him so your arse was right against the edge of the bench. Slowly he rolled his hips against you, pulling back and thrusting forward again, finding a rhythm that worked. You leaned back on both palms as Ben grabbed you by the waist, the other resting on your knee to keep it pressed against his side. “This feel alright?” he asked as he gave another thrust, hitting a spot deep inside you. “Mmhmm,” you nodded, able to feel yourself growing wetter with each stroke of his cock. “What about this?” Ben shifted first one of your legs and then the other to his shoulders, encouraging you to bend them at the knee. His hands moved to your sides, fingertips digging into your back as he pressed you even closer. The effect was that you felt as if you were almost folded in half but it wasn’t too uncomfortable. There was an almost weightless feeling to it and any slight awkwardness you felt with your chest meeting your thighs was a small price to pay for just how good Ben felt once again moving inside you. You tightened your fingers against the benchtop, wishing there was something you could grab onto as your whole body rocked with each of his thrusts, the position allowing him to penetrate you deeply, continuously brushing against a number of spots that sent electric spikes of pleasure through you. “Fuck,” was about all you could think to say. “That a good fuck?” Ben questioned, voice gruff with his exertions. “Yeah, yes, fuck, so good,” “So you like when I do this?” You let out a soft moan as he roughly fucked into you again, timing it just right. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he half laughed, turning his head to kiss your leg before leaning forward to catch your lips again. After that there wasn’t much room for talking. Ben, having assured himself that you were happy, speeded up his rhythm, clutching you tightly to keep your legs from slipping off his shoulders. His breathing became rougher, matching your own, as he drove into you, though he still kissed you as much as he could, panting against your lips, swallowing your moans and pushing whatever air he had into your lungs.

You could feel your orgasm bubbling up, like a pot of water on the verge of boiling, but knew Ben would reach his first, recognising his expression as the one he wore when he was trying to hold back from the edge. “Fu-ck you’re s-so tight,” he grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as he leaned his forehead against yours, “gonna have to pull out soon,” You could feel him pulling away and tightened your calves on either side of his neck in an effort to stop him, needing just a little more to reach your own release. “Not helping,” he groaned, suddenly unable to hold off any longer, “Shit. Y/N.” You whined as he stilled to shoot his release over your walls. “Jesus,” he said a little breathlessly, as he pulled out, your underwear slipping back over you, and rubbed his neck absentmindedly, “Didn’t expect that to finish me off. Did you…?” You shook your head, letting your leg slip to be caught in the crook of Ben’s arm. “Well let’s fix that, shall we,” he said, already letting you go to bend forward, his face right between your thighs. You felt a puff of his hot breath against you as he hooked his index finger into the crotch of your knickers, pulling it aside, and then his tongue was on you, lapping up your arousal and coming to rest against your clit. He set up camp there, focusing all his attention on the small nub. You let yourself drop back so you were holding yourself up on one elbow, your other hand on the back of Ben’s head, tugging on his hair as he drew a series of moans from you. With a particularly firm suck, you felt your cunt pulse and something warm and wet ran from you, dripping over the edge of the bench onto the cupboard door. You had an idea what it was so it surprised you when Ben released your clit to lick between your lips, catching it with his tongue and spreading it along your slit. “We taste good together,” he mumbled, going in to trace the same path over again, greedily licking up the mixture. You swore under your breath, feeling yourself right on the edge of your orgasm, unspeakably turned on by Ben lapping up the load he’d just left in you. Sensing how close you were he dragged his tongue over your clit again, quickly sliding two fingers into you to help you along. You whined his name as he pushed you over the edge, continuing to pump his fingers into you as he again sucked at your clit, not stopping until he was sure it had worked. “Thank you,” you said as he straightened up again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re such a dork,” he laughed as he kissed you again, tracing his tongue over yours. The man clearly wanted you lightheaded from lack of air. “Shut up,” you pushed yourself to sit up straight again, expecting Ben to step away and let you hop down from the bench. He didn’t though, instead absentmindedly toying with the leg of your underwear as his gaze fell to your lips. “Seriously?” Ben shrugged, “Eating you out made me hard again. And,” he quickly ran his fingers along the edge of the bench, collecting some of the mess you’d left there, “I think it’s only fair you should taste us too,” If he’s said it less earnestly you might have batted his hand away and laughed off the suggestion but something about his tone made you grab his wrist to pull his fingers towards your mouth. He hadn’t been wrong, the mix of you both did taste pretty good, though you’d already got a hint of it as he’d kissed you. “Good girl,” he breathed out, eyes heavy with lust, “think you’re up for more?” “Can we move elsewhere? The edge of the counter is digging into me.” “Okay,” Ben began tugging your underwear down and kicked off his own before pulling your shirt over your head, making you laugh. He Helped you stand and then immediately pushed you to the floor. For a moment you thought he was suggesting you give him a blowjob and were about to question him but half a second later he was following you down, laying down and pulling you on top. “I meant like the bed or the couch at least,” you said somewhere between incredulity and amusement. “Too far,” he grunted, bucking his hips to encourage you to mount him properly, “need you now.” You rolled your eyes as you sank down onto his dick, “Do I actually get to cum this time or…?” “Only if you move,” Ben growled as he grasped your hips and pulled you down onto him, making you cry out at the unexpectedly sudden sensation of being filled. He let you ride him for a bit, alternating between squeezing your thigh as he rubbed his thumb over your clit and cupping your breasts, teasing your nipples as he encouraged you to fuck yourself on his cock faster. You kept to the same steady pace though, intending to drag it out a little, make him wait. But it wasn’t long before he got fed up with the deliberately slow pace you’d cultivated. Without warning you found yourself on your back, Ben grasping your thighs as he kneeled over you, pulling your hips up a little so he could fuck you the way he wanted. Your voice shook as you moaned and writhed in his shadow, your own fingers dancing over your clit to keep building your orgasm. “Isn’t that better?” he said roughly, laughing a little as you nodded your agreement, “Making me wish I had cancelled our plans. Could stay in your pussy all day.” You whimpered and rubbed your clit harder. “C’mon Pumpkin, so close aren’t ya,” You squeezed your eyes shut, moaning when you finally tipped over the edge. But that didn’t stop Ben. He waited until your orgasm had subsided and then pushed your legs wide and up into the air so he could lay directly on top of you as he continued to pound you. Your voice shook as a moan was pulled from your throat and you squirmed beneath him, feeling yourself once again being drawn towards release. There was something about his weight pressing down on you, his breath against your ear. Something about how close he seemed, almost panting as his hips stuttered in and out of the rhythm he was desperately trying to hold on to. He mouthed at your neck as you tilted your head to accommodate him, reaching a hand down to squeeze his arse cheek. You were sore from every other way he’d fucked you, tired from the two orgasms he’d already wrung from you, and yet the thought of stopping him, of ending the incredible pleasure you felt at his hands, was the furthest thing from your mind. A scream caught in your throat as he seemed to press you even harder into the floor, your legs shaking in the air as he grit his teeth and grunted with each harsh drive into you. And then he came, gasping against your throat as he felt you cum too, finally releasing the scream you’d been holding onto until the noise turned to breaths so ragged they felt like sobs.

Ben kissed your throat and then your jaw as he came back to earth, still laying on you. “How was that?” he asked softly when you’d remained quiet for a while. You drew in a deep breath, “Pum-Pumpkin?” “What?” “You called me fucking Pumpkin of all things, while trying to get me off?” “So?” “Jesus Ben,” you half-heartedly swatted at his side, “you’re lucky I was so close that it didn’t matter otherwise I might have laughed and completely lost the orgasm.”   Ben joined in your laughter, the sensation of his shaking body on top of yours slightly odd but mostly quite comforting. Until he shifted his hips without thinking and made you wince. “Sorry,” he said, pressing his lips to yours again as if to kiss away the discomfort before he gingerly pulled out of you and sat back on his knees, “But you did cum that time, right?” “I think you know I did,” you sighed, already able to see what was coming, as you let your legs drop to the floor. “So wait, how many times exactly?” You sighed and shook your head slightly. “Because if my maths is right, I think we got you to three times. Once on the bench and twice on the floor. One plus two is three, yes?” “Yes that’s how basic addition works Ben,”  “And who was it again that got you to three orgasms? Was it,” he pointed a finger as his one chest, “Moi?” “Alright asshole, you’re very impressive and a somewhat decent shag,” “I think you could be a little more grateful considering that performance. Might have been my best ever moves,” You pushed Ben in the middle of the chest, exaggeratedly rolling your eyes but, truthfully you were inclined to agree that it had been his best performance yet, at least in your experience. “Here let me help you,” he chuckled as you tried to stand, almost falling over as your legs shook. Quickly, Ben pushed himself to his feet and then offered you a hand up too, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you steady. “Thanks,” “I hope I haven’t made it too hard for you to walk. Wouldn’t want to throw off your bowling cos you were fucked so right.” “Jesus Christ,” you couldn’t help but laugh.

The rest of the time you had before you had to leave was spent tidying up the kitchen, cleaning up the evidence of the mornings activities in case your roommate got home before you, washing up and getting ready to go. Which is really when things started to go downhill. If you’d realised you might have told yourself to stay home, come up with a quick excuse to get out of it and just played video games with Ben for the rest of the day or something. But there was no way to know what was coming so you didn’t. You talked happily as you got into Ben’s car (which was already parked on the street), excited to see your friends and looking forward to the afternoon.

The double date itself was quite fun, although draining. There was always an element of playing pretend at these sorts of occasions. Not that you minded so much. It was either play up the romance of your relationship or have to explain what you were to everyone and a few hours of pretending Ben was your boyfriend was honestly much simpler. At least bowling was better than the cinema. The first time you’d gone on a double date to a movie you’d sat down beside Ben, the popcorn you were sharing balanced on the arm rest between you. Martin and Jill had raised their armrest and were virtually sitting on top of each other, hands entwined. Which would have been fine except Martin had leaned over and said, “you know these things move” and looked expectantly at you. Ben and you had shared a glance and then tried to say you were both fine with the space but they’d given you matching looks that said they thought you were being weird or prudish or judging their willingness to cuddle in public. So you’d relented and shifted the armrest so you could spend the next two hours sitting with Ben’s arm around your shoulders, both of you more tense about the situation than you ever would have been if you’d just been allowed to sit in your seats like normal. Things had improved a bit since then. Ben had told you that one night when you’d gone out to a bar together, Martin had pulled him aside as asked why he never kissed you properly. Ben had shrugged and said he didn’t like PDAs, that he didn’t want photos to spread or anything like that, especially since it was still so new, and Martin had accepted it. They began to see that your ways of being affectionate were quieter, stealing sips from each other’s drinks, a warm hand against a knee, dumb nicknames that made you both laugh. Even if Jill did sometimes still try to convince you that there was nothing wrong with snogging in the middle of a busy street. Nonetheless you never felt fully able to relax when it was just the four of you. Always conscious of how they saw you, always worried that they’d decide you weren’t being affectionate enough and would tell everyone else you were going through a rough patch which would lead to more scrutiny. While at the same time worrying that one of them would start asking how serious it was between you and Ben, were you thinking about the future? Could you see yourselves moving in together? Was he the one? And it took a lot of energy to constantly be alert about what you were saying, always careful to not accidentally give away the secret truth of the situation. Bowling was fun though and less pressure than other double dates you’d been on. You could get away with not holding hands or sitting on Ben’s lap since everyone was standing up frequently and it didn’t make sense to be on top of one another. You could share small pecks on the lips or else tight hugs to celebrate strikes. And Ben made sure to tease you for missed pins, just like he always had, with a few added silly nicknames. He called you his sweet little hotdog after a particularly bad gutter shot which had made you laugh so hard you choked on your drink, and made Jill give him a disapproving glance. He’d smoothed it over by letting her overhear him saying he loved you, whispering the platonically just for you.

By the time Jill had been declared the winner of the game, you were ready to head home and spend a night forwarding Ben weird videos and dumb memes. Ready to be allowed to just exist without needing to be romantically linked to anyone. But it wasn’t quite to be. Martin made the suggestion that all of you should head to McDonalds for dinner and before you knew it you were standing in line, waiting for the kid at the cash register to serve you. You leaned your head on Ben’s shoulder as you stared at the menu, and vaguely wondered how someone working in a fast food joint could be so bright and bubbly. Right up until Ben nudged you and asked what you wanted. “Um, can I get a quarter pounder and a frozen coke, thanks.” “And?” Ben supplied. “And what?” “Y/N I know you want dessert, get dessert.” “And an Oreo McFlurry,” you smiled and bumped Ben’s shoulder with yours as he laughed and finished paying. “You guy’s make a cute couple,” the girl who’d served you said, eyes following the path of Ben’s gaze to you, still smiling. She seemed to realise what she’d said, her ears turning red, but Ben thanked her and added, “I think I have to agree,” as he squeezed your hip, before moving away so Jill and Martin could order. You’d smiled at her too but it wasn’t quite genuine.

It wasn’t that you weren’t used to it, people assuming you and Ben were in fact a couple. You were. One or two weeks after you’d first agreed to try out being queerplatonic partners, most of your friends had put two and two together and worked out that something was going on between you. Of course they didn’t know you were aromantic and they probably didn’t have any idea what a QPR was so they’d really added two and two and got five but you weren’t about to correct them. As you’d said to Ben, it was too much too soon to do that. Maybe if the QPR thing worked out long term, maybe then you could tell them. And besides, they weren’t exactly wrong anyway. They’d originally assumed you and Ben were just hooking up after Martin had dropped in to pick up something he’d left at Ben’s and had seen you spread out on Ben’s couch with sex hair and a rather large hickey on your neck and Ben’s sweater hanging off your shoulder. He’d asked Ben who’d just shrugged in response and said it wasn’t a big deal. You estimated it took about a minute and a half to reach everyone else. The next time you’d gone out as a group you’d felt them all watching you and Ben closely, trying to determine if Martin with bullshitting them all or not. They’d all decided it was just sex though. Until you were clearly still together a month later and they decided it had to be serious since Ben had never successfully fucked a girl for that long without catching feelings. That was when they started referring to you as boyfriend and girlfriend. That was also when the comments about how cute you were or how they’d always known you’d get together had first started. The first few times you’d heard it, it felt weird but you figured that was just because it was you and Ben and you were still working out how to be partners without the romance. You’d been in relationships before though and didn’t have any major objections to anything they said so you found it fairly easy to deal with and mostly you didn’t notice it anymore.

Except now it was bothering you. Something about the girl’s comment had rubbed you the wrong way. Which made you feel bad because she was just a kid with a shitty minimum wage job who didn’t know you from Adam. She had no idea. She was just trying to say something nice to a couple of strangers. You supposed your dislike of the comment probably had something to do with spending all afternoon putting on the romantic act for the benefit of your friends. Maybe even something about the sex from earlier. Probably just exhaustion from everything, a shorter fuse. It could even just be PMS though you’d have to check how far off your next period was to be sure. Whatever the reason it felt…not wrong exactly just off. You stayed quiet during most of the meal, aware you weren’t being great company and aware that Ben had realised something was wrong since he kept glancing at you when the other two weren’t looking. “Y/N,” Jill’s voice cut through your thoughts, “Still with us?” “Yeah,” you said, pulling a smile onto your face, “sorry, just a bit tired. Didn’t sleep well last night,” That statement was met by high pitched oohing noises and Martin jokily reprimanding Ben for keeping you up. You forced yourself to laugh with them, “Not like that you pervs. Ben was filming a night scene yesterday so didn’t actually get to mine until what,” you looked to Ben for confirmation, “One-thirty was it?” “Something like that. I don’t know I fell asleep almost as soon as I put my head down.” “Me, not so much,” you shrugged, “It’s all just catching up with me now.” They accepted that excuse without question and didn’t aim too many more comments in your direction, letting you finish your food without having to keep your mind on their conversation. And pretty soon you were hugging them goodbye and promising you’d organise the next date as Martin told Ben to get you home to bed before you fell asleep in your ice cream.

Ben waited until you were safely back inside your apartment before he asked if you were okay. “We were meant to get milk,” you sighed, trying to push away the annoyingly persistent discomfort. “I’ll go out later and get some. Or we can get Sophie to bring some back when she comes home. Are you okay though?” Unsure if this was a situation where you’d want space, Ben hovered at a respectful distance until you stepped in close and leaned your head against his chest. As soon as he knew you wanted him there he wrapped his arms tightly around you, “What’s wrong?” “Not sure. Think it all just got a bit much.” “How do you mean?” You shrugged as much as his embrace would allow and talked against his chest as you tried your best to explain how flat you felt, “I think the girl who served us was just like the straw that broke the camel’s back, y’know.” “Did me agreeing with her make things worse?” You shook your head, “Don’t think so. I knew you meant it in a different way to her. Besides, the other two were in earshot so there wasn’t much else you could say.” “You know that what everyone else thinks of us doesn’t change anything about what we have, right, or what we mean to each other. It doesn’t change who you are.” You didn’t mean to say it but the words had escaped before you could stop them, “Wouldn’t it be easier if it did though.” “But then you wouldn’t be you and I love you, platonically.” You smiled and nodded as you stepped back a little, though Ben’s arms wouldn’t let you go too far, “I know, thank you. And I’m fine, just having a bit of an off afternoon.” “Are you sure? Is there anything else I can do to help?” “No, you’ve been perfect.” You leaned up to give him a quick kiss, “And I know I’m being stupid about it. I knew what I was signing up for when I decided not to come out to them. Besides, being back home with you has definitely made me feel better already.” “Do you want a cuppa or anything?” “Nah, think I might just go lie down and read for bit. Decompress a little, y’know.” “Okay. Give me a shout if you want anything, yeah,” he pressed a kiss to your temple and give you an extra squeeze before he let you go.

Slowly you headed to your bedroom, kneeling down at your bookshelf and running your fingers along the spines until you found the one you wanted. That particular book had seen better days. It’s spine was cracked, the image on the cover peeling away from the cardboard underneath. More than one page had begun to fray around the edges like an ancient treasure map in a cartoon, with little triangles missing and the corners permanently creased where they’d been dog eared a hundred times. But as you settled into the bed, Ben’s pillow still smelling faintly of his hair pomade, you began to feel more yourself. Ben was right. What other people thought of your relationship didn’t matter. He was still your Ben, the same Ben who’s hoodie had been living in your cupboard for years now because he spent so much time at yours anyway it just made sense to keep a spare there. The same Ben who’d bought you your favourite pair of sunglasses when you’d left your old ones at home by accident. The same Ben who’d gradually been reading his way through your entire bookshelf rather than buying his own paperbacks. You had too much history there and too much love for each other for anyone else’s opinions to matter. And your partnership was good. It made you happy so it had to be good.

The time passed quickly as you read so when you looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps and saw that a couple of hours had passed, you were a little taken aback. Ben poked his head round the corner and then stepped through the doorway when he saw you looked better. “Nice to see you smiling again,” he said softly as he crawled up beside you. Without thinking you lifted your arm so he could snuggle against you, his head on your chest. “What’re you reading?” “First Test by Tamora Pierce. First book in her Protector of the Small series.” “What’s it about?” “A girl training to become a knight. Gran bought it for me as a kid while we were on a holiday at the seaside.” Ben glanced at the worn pages, “Do you reread it a lot?” “Yeah a bit. The main character, Kel, is like the only aromantic character I know of so she’s kinda important to me.” “The main character’s aro?” “I mean, not explicitly. It was published in ’99 and the terminology to describe aro experiences didn’t really start being used until like the late 2000s and even then only in certain communities online. But Tamora Pierce did answer some questions on her website and said that as she was writing the series Kel became less and less interested in romance and sex so even though she didn’t have the words for it back then, she would consider Kel aro and probably ace too. And I mean, rereading them I definitely feel an aro sort of reaction to a lot of the romance stuff, even when Kel does start kissing boys and all that.” Ben leaned back to better see your face, “Will you read to me?” You leaned down to kiss him, unhurriedly, softly, letting your lips linger on his. “Is that a yes?” “That was a sorry I’ve been weird this evening kiss actually.” “Don’t worry about it,” he said simply, snuggling back down, his head once again resting on your chest and his arm thrown over your waist. You adjusted your grip on the book and began to read from where you’d left off, one hand running absentmindedly through his hair, both of you sighing softly as you relaxed into each other.

[buckys-old-habits]

Line Without A Hook (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (platonic)

Summary: Spencer is a broken man and sometimes he needs help facing his demons and doubts. Is it all really worth it? 

Word Count: 1.9k 

Genre: Hurt / Comfort

Inspiration: Line Without A Hook by Ricky Montgomery

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“There never can be a man so lost as one who is lost in the vast and intricate corridors of his own lonely mind, where none may reach and none may save.”

― Isaac Asimov, Pebble in the Sky

Working for the FBI is a challenge, office hours are horrible and the world never sleeps in the sense of the bad it can produce. 

The BAU is a special department that is necessary, saving people, catching bad guys, and being all and all nearly invisible in the back. Delving deep into the twisted and poisoned thoughts of people, formed by death, trauma, and snapped minds. Getting to know the horrible truth of what a broken childhood or a rejected mind can make people push to do. 

Day in and day out, watching, analyzing, staring death and danger in the face, pureness getting swallowed by the darkness of the world. Emotions and people’s lives getting lost and twisted. Seeing the aftermath of a person tortured, mutilated, traumatized, killed in the worst sense. Dead inside but staying alive for the outside world. 

Happy endings get swallowed by the next bad case, paperwork making you all relieve the horror you will carry into your sleep and dreams. Making you lock your door twice as secure as normally, work sneaking itself into your daily life.  

This work does things to all the members of the BAU, things that they try to hide and don’t want to remember any time soon. 

Kidnappings, drug uses, bullet wounds, mental and physical torture, loss through unsubs, the nagging feeling of doing the right thing and still not saving everyone, the downfall of your psyche because you were too slow and finally the reality that the bad in the world won’t just go away. 

In the years you were a part of the BAU you saw and experienced a lot of loss and trauma, on yourself or your trusted friends. You saw people come and go, happy at the start and broken in the end, smiles replaced by frowns. 

Gideon, Elle, Emily, Strauss, Alex, Kate, Aaron, Derek, and many more left because the job got in the way and too much. Trauma and resignment making them change their view on life and considering another way. 

You understand them and wish them all the best in the world, a life away from all the terrors that plague the daily world. 

But one person isn’t leaving, is still suffering in silence and putting on a strong face. A boy forced by trauma to grow into a man, a man that went through so much, alone and broken. 

Dr. Spencer Reid is the textbook example of the way this job with the BAU can form and bend you. He suffered through kidnappings, forced drug use, bullet wounds, near-death experiences, loss of his lover, betrayal, prison, family issues and so much more.  And he never even said a word when the world was showing him its darkest side.  

People noticed and tried to help, but Spencer is a stubborn man, pushing his needs and emotions into the background and giving his all for others and the cases. His genius mind can’t handle the thought of burdening someone else with his problems. He rode himself into them, so he has to find a way out. 

Sadly you saw the downfall of that thinking a few times. The secretive drug use while everybody knew, him shutting down after Maeve’s death, the way he grew harder to face the terror of the world. 

The way the soft and sweet boy from the start was forced to hide under a strong and colder man to protect himself from the jobs’ impact on the psyche. 

It’s not unusual for Spencer to disappear after some cases, just touched down with the jet and he is off, his head filled with dark and confusing thoughts. You watch him every time he rushes off the plane, throwing tight-lipped smiles to your coworkers. 

These are the moments where you realize that the young boy inside him is breaking through, threatening to drown under the darkness he accumulated over the years. 

You say your goodbyes to the others and follow the man out of the building, trying to catch up to him. Being one of his best friends sadly grants you the knowledge of how deep his thoughts can spiral and the way he tries to sift through them by himself. 

The way he will self sabotage himself until he is broken and doesn’t see the good in himself anymore.  Breaking him out of that spiral is nearly impossible, but you can slow the fall if you coax him out of his mind, which is your goal for this day. Further help will come when he accepts it. 

It’s late in the afternoon, the sun slowly setting and dipping the world into some fiery oranges and reds, a stark contrast to the green under your feet. When Spencer spirals he hides away from the world, trying to find comfort in the calm and quiet. While that was his apartment once, it holds too much sorrow and other words now for his mind to form its own. 

A soft smile settles on your lips when you see the familiar tall figure slumped under a weeping willow, the irony of the name not passing you by. It would have been amusing if you didn’t know the depths the tree already saw coming from Spencer. The many tears and dark thoughts that flow all around the dark bark. 

The lake was a resort of calm for Spencer, becoming his new safe haven. Not many bad things happen here and it’s secluded enough to let his thoughts wander, allowing him to break apart under the green leaves and the protective shield of the hanging branches.  Maybe he specifically sought out this tree because of the name. It’s a place for him to weep and feel his emotions. 

Slowly, to not startle the man, you settle on the soft grass, keeping some distance between your folded legs. Spencer doesn’t deal well with touch and when his mind is occupied it's even more unwelcome. His body will reach out when it needs the comfort of another person. 

Calm and silence encase you, only the warm wind rustling through the heavy branches and the soft whispering of the water in the lake, reminding you of the life in nature. 

The first time you found Spencer here, through the help of an app on his phone, the calm stifled you and made you worry a lot more about his mental health.  But now you can see the way it is the opposite of the job, the cases, the horror, the darkness. 

Spencer shifts beside you, his leg nudging yours and you smile, keeping your eyes on the water. Many visits here made him realize he can open up to you, but he still feels like a burden, so you learned to wait. 

Wait for him to speak, to settle his thoughts, and open himself up to another person. Sometimes it only takes minutes, sometimes hours and sometimes the dark of the night will leave you with no words from him at all. 

Quietly you turn your hand so the grass tickles the back of it, opening yourself up for his touch. It takes a bit but then you feel the warmth of his fingers close around yours, hesitant and then stronger and nearly desperate.  You stroke his skin and he finally looks at you, mustering you with deep brown eyes, questions lingering just under the surface. 

Meeting his gaze, you stay quiet and wait, not breaking eye contact while he tries to sort his thoughts to convey them to you. Because this is the time he wants to share, share his doubts, his dreams, his ideas, and his desperations. 

“Is it worth it?”

It’s a whispered and choked question coming from him, his voice shaking at the end, making your heart clench in your chest. It’s a loaded question, one that would make or break him.  Squeezing his hand, you take a deep breath and settle your view back onto the lake.  To be honest, you asked yourself the same question a lot already. Every bad case lingers for days and the fact that you were too slow, too unknowing, too helpless, settles heavily on you. 

Could you have done more? Would the victim still be alive if you were just… better? Faster? More?  But this is what breaks you, makes you spiral, and lets you forget the light in life. The good side that challenges the dark. 

You look back at Spencer and meet his teary eyes, ready to spill the sorrow and pain he holds. 

“I don’t know, Spencer. I won’t lie to you. I don’t know if this job is worth the pain and suffering. But I know that the result will only be the same when you let it dictate you. I once thought that going would be the best course of action, just leave and let it behind you. All the death and blood and horror. But I can’t”, you laugh dryly, the thought heavy on your heart. 

“I can’t let the darkness win. I can’t just ignore the way that bad people will win when nobody is fighting for the light anymore. So no, it might not be worth it, but I can’t live with myself when I don’t try. I will lose myself when I let them win.”

You sigh, a deep and heavy sound, making you realize that you aren’t that black and white either. Not as deeply traumatized as Spencer, but still scarred by the job you handle.  It seems unavoidable when you stare at the darkest emotions and twisted minds daily. 

Spencer’s grip on your hand tightens and his knee settles heavily on yours, desperate for the warmth and the solidity that is your body, your presence. 

He is quiet, but you can hear his thoughts running around his brilliant mind, racing to catch his attention. Trying to process your words and applying the meaning to himself, adding to his own beliefs or changing it. 

Slowly you lift your hand and touch his cheek, wet with spilled tears, and he watches you, his whole attention on you.  You smile, amused by the fact how quickly you dust his mind with a touch. 

“Spencer, I would take it all. All the pain, if I could. But I can’t.”

He nods slowly, unknowingly leaning into your touch while you stroke his skin, wiping away the tears and wishing you could heal his broken soul. 

“What I can do is give you my promise. I promise you that I will be there to pull you from the depths of your mind. You don’t deserve the darkness that plagues you and I will do my best to make you realize that there is still so much light inside you.”

Spencer takes your hand from his cheek and pushes forward, crushing into your body and clutching onto you. Sobs wrack him and wet tears soak into your shoulder, all his emotions rushing out and leaving him a scared boy, the same one that saw his dad leave. 

With a heavy heart, you hold onto him, arms secure around him, shielding him and his vulnerability from the world. 

“There's a sorrow and pain in everyone's life, but every now and then there's a ray of light that melts the loneliness in your heart and brings comfort like hot soup and a soft bed.”

― Hubert Selby Jr., Requiem for a Dream

[ledbiantastic]

Okay, it's time for my Harrow The Ninth read through post. Spoilers, obviously. Thanks to @shakespearerants, @irascibubble, and @mayasaura for encouraging me to keep going. Enjoy!

I am on page 33 of Harrow the Ninth and I am making a prediction. I initially thought the Body referred to the dead girl in the locked tomb, but now I think it's Gideon. We'll see if I'm right.

Page 44 says it is the dead girl in the tomb, but I'm not convinced it isn't also Gideon

Gideon must be important to have to be erased from Harrow's mind like that, right?

Did Ortus the First kill/try to kill Gideon's mom? The timeline adds up, they said he messed something up nineteen years ago, Gideon was 18 in the last book and time has passed

In the weird retconned memories, after every death, or during, someone says "is this how it happens" which makes me think it's, like, Harrow's brain asking that

Who are those notes from and to? What's up with that?

I love seeing Harrow spend time with Magnus and Abigail. I liked them

If Harrow is haunted, but this is not the real version of the past, is her mind creating the ghost? Is it Gideon? I don't think Gideon would write notes like that though...

Page 291 is Ortus talking to her like she's Gideon's mother? IS HE ASKING WHY SHE BROUGHT ALONG THE BABY?

Is Ortus' cavalier more active or something? Like he doesn't remember because she takes control?

Page 315 "he had seen me" who is he and who is me? Who is narrating this to Harrowhark? Is. It. Gideon? (Later I decide it's Palamedes seeing the Sleeper, who is also narrating and is possibly Gideon. We'll see if that's right.)

Is the poster on page 318 Gideon? Is It? IS IT? But Gideon's hair didn't go down to her shoulders. Is it her mom?

Are Camilla and Coronabeth on the side of the rebellion? BOE? Is old Harrow? I KNEW IT! But I'm sad they're on different sides.

Is Ianthe the spy? Is that how she knew Coronabeth was alive?

Does the Sleeper represent the part of Harrow and/or her brain that erased her memories and it's cleaning up the debris in her psyche? OR IS IT GIDEON? AKA the DORMANT part of Harrow-as-Lyctor? When the Sleeper is unmasked, will we see Harrow or Gideon?

Did Gideon's mother start the rebellion or something? Is that why they had a poster of her? Was she Eden?

So, Canaan house was on earth then?

Did Harrow (old Harrow) tamper with her own temporal lobe? Did Mercymorn? Ianthe?

Whose idea was it for Ortus to kill her then? John? Augustine? Mercymorn? Someone else?

Did Harrow break into the locked tomb? I want to believe she did, because I support her. But if not, who is the Body?

Shit, I can't remember what color Gideon's eyes were. Page 363 when Harrow's eyes are two different colors, black and gold

Ianthe wants to marry Harrow? Weird. I don't ship it. But I'm kind of stuck on Gideon and if I wasn't, maybe.

See a man about a queen? What does it mean? What is Ianthe doing? Also love that she cursed Harrow's hair to grow extra, just to be petty.

I'm so confused by chapter 40. What the hell is going on? Why is Harrow trying to be a cavalier? The fuck? Role swapped false memory? What is even happening?

Is Harrowhark's brain just, like, randomly spit-balling while she's dying or something? Love that Abigail and Magnus seem to be aware that it's not real.

OH OH OH THAT WAS GIDEON! SERVING THE COFFEE AND MAKING HARROW BLUSH IN THE THIRD(?) FALSE MEMORY OR DREAM OR WHATEVER! I love that Abigail is NOT having this, like, no I'm not gonna watch your romance novel version unfold.

I think I've noticed that the ones who have speaking roles the weird memories are the ones who died in the last book.

Are they all taking active part in these false scenarios? All the dead from Canaan house?

Oh my god oh my god here it is she remembers and she's so sad!

So she erased Gideon to save her soul. Nope nope nope nope nope I can't. I can't deal with these feelings. Y.Y

Who the fuck is the angry spirit?!?!

Who fucking stabbed her?

IS GIDEON DRIVING HARROW'S FUCKING BODY AROUND DURING A FIGHT? HELL YES! AND THAT MEANS I WAS RIGHT THAT SHE'S NARRATING!

OH AND I PREDICT THE GHOST IS CYTHERIA!

I'm still thinking about what Harrow did. It's so sweet and so sad and she's so lonely and she didn't even know how lonely she was.

Also I'm already excited to reread this series.

Oh yeah, this is GIDEON in here, swearing up a storm and trying to use a sword.

Okay, first I'm getting emotional just from heading Gideon's voice, then I'm emotional about what it was like for her to be in Harrow's body/mind, then I'm emotional about all the things she wanted to say but didn't have time, AND THEN I'M EMOTIONAL when Gideon says why she thinks Harrow did it and I'm like baby nooooooo it was because she loved you, not because she didn't want to rely on you! Honey, baby, no!

"Harrowhark, I gave you my whole life and you didn't even want it." HARROWHARK, I GAVE YOU MY WHOLE LIFE AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN WANT IT. 💔💔💔😟😟😟😭😭😭 Excuse me while my heart breaks.

Oh, also a bigger issue in this book is the whole concept of the afterlife? And it's messed up because of the emperor? I don't know why I wasn't prepared for that but I wasn't.

Ortus holding Harrow and pointing out that she and Gideon were neglected children is making my therapist soul ascend.

I'm such an idiot. His name wasn't Ortus, it was Gideon. He did kill Gideon's mother, that's why she shouted his name. Or they were in love? One or the other... Or both?

Harrow did a find and replace in her brain and it had unexpected consequences.

I've been leaning more and more towards the Sleeper and ghost being Cytheria.

Oh my sweet sword lesbian himbo, how I've missed you. "The sword I had to hold overhead in one hand as I used the other to keep everything inside you; stuff was coming out, Harrow, I don't know precisely what stuff because I'm not a goddamn necromancer."

Gideon is OCCUPYING HARROW'S BODY during a deadly invasion and is like, 'I'm gonna shut my eyes to reach under the shirt and get rid of encumbrances. I tried not to touch you, so don't get mad.' I feel like Harrow would be the first one to say 'do whatever you have to do to stay alive, you imbecile!'

So Mercymorn stabbed Harrow... So the heralds would eat her as a way to buy time? Was that the plan? Gideon calling her "my necromancer" made my heart do a thing.

I want to understand what she's saying about Gideon's mother. Was Gideon a science experiment? Like Kipo?

Where. THE FUCK did Cytheria get the gun?

Dulcie is *horny for revenge* Abigail is a BAMF and my new (and final?) prediction is that the Sleeper is Gideon's mom.

Gideon and Ianthe is a fun dynamic. I love how protective Gideon is, that she's mad at Ianthe for hurting Harrow's heart.

Gideon must have her mother's eyes to be freaking all the lyctors the fuck out.

"I wanted you to use me... I wanted you to live and not die... Harrow. I already gave my flesh to you, and I already gave you my end. I gave you my sword. I gave you myself. I did it while knowing I'd do it all again, without hesitation, because all I ever wanted you to do was eat me." Why am I crying? 😭😭😭😭😭 Why is this the most romantic thing when it's also full of insults and curses and is followed by a your mom joke? What a Gideon thing to do, be so romantic and gross and sassy all at once. I love her, I want to be her. Gideon forever.

Love that Ianthe also thinks Harrow got rid of Gideon because she didn't want her. /s I'm starting to worry that it's silly for me to hold onto the 'because she can't live without Gideon' explanation.'

"But Nonagesimus, you hating me always meant more than anyone else in this hot and stupid universe loving me. At least I'd had your full attention." That's why indifference is the opposite of love, hate is still passionate attention. But this also makes me feel so bad for Gideon because she deserves to be loved, dammit!

Okay, "gall on gall" is pretty hilarious. Good job Ianthe.

Love that the ghost of Matthias Nonius speaks in meter because he's been so deified by the Ninth house, and he's confused by it. It's like people in a musical being aware they're in a musical, like, why am I singing?

Ortus' poem was important after all!

Is it the sword? Does Harrow have to destroy Gideon's sword? Because that would break my heart a little.

"It bewildered her, back at Canaan House, how the whole of her always seemed to come back to Gideon. For one brief and beautiful space of time, she has welcomed it: that microcosm of eternity between forgiveness and the slow uncomprehending agony of the fall. Gideon rolling up her shirt sleeves. Gideon dappled in shadow, breaking promises. One idiot with a sword and an asymmetrical smile had proved to be Harrow's end." I just... This is so beautifully written. And describing Gideon as one idiot with a sword is so perfect and right and I just... 🖤🖤🖤😭😭😭

No no no I hate this either/or bullshit! I know I'm a sappy optimist, but I want both of them to survive, damnit! I want Harrow to be able to go back to her body without losing Gideon's soul. I want Gideon to keep existing.

What does Dulcinea know?!?!

Commander? That's Gideon's mom, right? Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead Kia Hua Ko Te Pai Snap Back to Reality Oops There Goes Gravity

What does that all mean? Are those Eminem lyrics? What other language is in there?

WHAT'S ALL COME OUT?

I knew she was in the sword.

Oh my god, if you need John to get in the tomb, and she was trying to get in the tomb and had something, a tool... Samples... She was armed with the baby... Is Gideon's father John? Is Gideon the fucking child of God?

She named the baby Bomb... This whole series could have been Bomb the Ninth... Bomb Nav...

Yep yep called it, child of God. The first time they put that plan in action was to get sperm to make Gideon. The second time was so Harrow could kill the first Gideon.

A dad joke?! A DAD JOKE?!

Gideon and Harrow were so cruel to each other as kids. It just makes me so sad.

Was Harrow able to get into the tomb because she made Gideon bleed?

So is Alecto John's cavalier? Annabel and Alecto... Are the same person? I'm so confused. She's the body in the locked tomb? But how is that related to her eyes being in his genes?

Wait, the eyes switched? I continue to be confused. Did he do the lyctor thing but also put a part of both him and his cavalier into the cavalier's body? But she was never human? What's going on? Why do they think she never had genes?

Oh cool, Mercy killed God and now everyone's gonna die... ... ... Ooooor not.

I love that beating up Harrow is Gideon's job AND saving Harrow is Gideon's job. Very cute.

Sooooo Gideon the OG and Pyrrha both fucked Gideon's mom... With the same body...

Gideon, such a romantic, wishing she had Harrow's name on her lips as she died. "I mean, yeah, I was thinking about you too; if I could've turned that off I would've turned it off years ago" HAHAHAHAHA You can't stop thinking about Harrow even if you want to! God, what a sweet himbo.

"Yes, well, jail for mother" says Gideon... Is she referencing Miette? Jail for mother for one thousand years!

Okay, so we have definitely confirmed that the Body is Alecto/Annabel/God's cavalier.

What did Dulcinea tell her? That Gideon is moving her body around? Doesn't she know that? Shouldn't that not be a surprise?

Okay, so, wait, what happened to Harrowhark?

ARRRRRGH I'm not smart enough for this book! Or I'm not visual enough! I know I should recognize the description of bobbed hair and "lambent" eyes but I have no idea who it is and also WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO GIDEON AND HARROWHARK?! UGH NOW I HAVE TO WAIT FOR THE NEXT BOOK AND I'M GONNA BE SO IMPATIENT AND CONFUSED!

Well that was fun to reread. Impressed I got some things right, but mostly I was very wrong.

[tuffduff]

‘Til Death and Beyond (Slash x Reader)

Pairing: Slash x Reader

Words: 1,965

Request: anon! “Hi luv ! I was wondering if I could request an imagine with slash and the reader at their wedding reception. Just them being all cute and married together.”

A/N: Imagine all the boys giving speeches at your wedding...amazing. A sickly sweet and gushy wedding fic for you on this Sunday. Enjoy, my loves!

Taglist: @ubernoxa​ @the--blackdahlia​ @reigns420​ @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker​ @rumoured-whispers​ @dustnbones​

“Oh, shit, Y/N.” Slash said under his breath to you as he reached out to lock your hand securely in his. “I don’t know how to dance.” He placed his other hand on your waist and you placed your free hand on his shoulder.

“Babe, it’s just a slow dance. We don’t have to break out a waltz or anything.” You reassured him affectionately as you swayed for your first dance, your long ball gown grazing against the floor.

“Can you imagine?” He chuckled. You took in the sight of him, still in leather pants, except they were nice leather pants. He had long ditched his tuxedo jacket and had his white button up unbuttoned—always unorthodox and free-spirited was your husband. Husband, you thought again, mulling over the word in your mind and feeling a wave of love. Suddenly, he grinned at you and brushed his fingers against your cheek.

“What, is there something wrong?” You asked anxiously; there were a lot of people watching. The last thing you wanted was something on your face or something amiss.

“No! You just look so fucking beautiful.”

Lenny Kravitz, Slash’s longtime friend, was singing “May This Be Love” by Jimi Hendrix and strumming guitar softly. You rested your head on Slash’s shoulder, getting teleported back to all the times you had listened to this song together. One of your first dates, curled together on his bed half-dressed, his lips lazily leaving kisses on your head. Whenever he was playing guitar and noticed you were listening, it was the song he would transition to. He would even sing for you, but only you.

There were moments often where you felt like you needed to pinch yourself. When you went out together and Slash was recognized and got swarmed by adoring fans. When you listened to Guns N’ Roses songs and the guitar solos hit and you were reminded the man playing them loved you. And then the private moments, your most cherished, when he would make sure you were fully covered by the blankets, those moments of love that reminded you just how lucky you really were.

You and Slash were soon seated right in the center of your reception area—a ritzy LA hotel reception area with shiny oak, warm candelabra lighting, grand stone columns and marble floors. Almost immediately, you jumped at the sound of Duff hitting his glass with a knife too loudly.

“Oops,” he muttered in amusement, before loudly continuing. “Hello, everybody, can I have a moment?” He was Slash’s best man; therefore, he would be starting off the speeches. You felt yourself grow apprehensive and almost nervous; it appeared Duff had indulged in cocktail hour. You just prayed he wasn’t too far gone yet as he turned his gaze to you and Slash fondly.

“I just wanna say, to the bride and groom, I’m so fucking happy for you two.” You pressed a smile, hoping your older relatives didn’t mind his language. Slash laughed good-naturedly. “No, seriously. I’ve been rooting for you guys...since the very beginning—Slash, man, don’t you remember? I see you nodding—don’t get embarrassed! Okay,” Duff turned to his audience excitedly, now armed with a story. “So, I remember—way back when—it was at one of our gigs at the Troubadour, or maybe it was the Whiskey. Anyways, we were about to start ‘Sweet Child’ and I had already noticed Slash was almost avoiding one side of the stage. He’s almost been playing the whole gig with his back turned to the crowd or kinda like, sideways. It was weird. Anyways, we’re about to start ‘Sweet Child’ and Slash keeps messing up.” You giggled and the rest of your audience laughed; you remembered this story very well.

Slash was now ducking his head in embarrassment, holding your hand in his tighter. “We had to restart like three times. Axl was furious, Izzy and I were just like ‘what is going on?’ It wasn’t until later I found out Slash had seen Y/N for the first time standing in crowd up front at this show.” You heard a wave of aww rise up from the crowd, and warm smiles in your direction.  “He was so intimidated and nervous by her that he wouldn’t even go to that side of the stage, and he psyched himself out and everything. Anyways, I guess it all worked out, didn’t it?” Duff grinned, raising his glass. “I love you both, congrats!”

Steven stood up next enthusiastically, practically bouncing. “Slash, Y/N, you did it! Finally hitched, finally. It’s like Duff was saying, I was rooting for you both since the beginning. Have any of you guys ever noticed the difference between Slash when he’s with Y/N and when he’s not?” Some of the crowd chuckled, some were even nodding. “I’m serious! There’s a difference! And I’ve known this guy for a while. When he’s not, I mean he’s still Slash, but when she’s around it’s like the sun is shining, the angels are singing—he’s happier! And I like it when you’re around too, Y/N. I love you two! Good job!” Steven grinned, blowing you kisses. Your heart melted at his loving praise.

Axl stood next, calm and cool, one hand in his pocket. “I knew this was serious back...I guess it was a few years ago, I don’t remember when. Slash hates conflict. There was a fight, not a fight just a disagreement, between you two. Slash came storming into the studio and he was pretty upset, just withdrawn and occupied. I brushed it off as like a typical girl problem, I even told myself what does it matter anyways, it’s not a serious thing. You came then, busting into the studio with all five of us staring. Slash just lit up and you, Y/N—I’ll never forget this. You glared at Slash and said ‘I want this to work and I love you. Nothing is ever going to be greater than that and I don’t want to ever run away and not talk things through. You can keep the snakes.’” The crowd laughed, you and Slash laughed too—you had forgotten about this. “I was like ‘really? All of this over snakes?’ But that’s important to Slash, which therefore was important to you, Y/N. And I knew it was serious and right, because you’d never have an issue compromising for each other. And that’s something special.”

Izzy kept it short, smiling lightly and keeping his head down as he talked. “I can honestly just say I’ve never seen Slash happier than when he’s on the road reading a letter Y/N wrote him. I’ve even seen him drawing pictures of her, like a high school kid drawing pictures in his notebook, in his own little world. And Y/N, we’ve all come to love her too. This whole band owes a lot to her, and I couldn’t be happier for you both.”

All of those words were enough to make you feel complete, until you felt Slash stand up. You watched him, stunned; you both had agreed you weren’t going to make speeches since the thought of it made you both nervous. He glanced down at you and laughed as if knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Um, I know we both said we wouldn’t make a speech or anything, but...I had to.” He said. You knew he was nervous from the sheepish smile on his face and the way he kept running his hands through his hair and shifting his weight. Even his voice, which was slightly shaky. “I never had the slightest clue about what love was, until you. I wouldn’t be me now if it weren’t for the way you’ve loved me all this time. Not to get too sappy or anything, but there are times when it gets hard on the road and the thought of you is what keeps me going, you know? And it bugs me sometimes when people ask you what it’s like to be with a rock star. I’m just me, and that’s all you’ve ever needed. You’ve always treated me like that, like I’m just me. And really, it’s you that rocks my world.” He couldn’t keep from laughing through his words. You were crying and laughing and jumped to your feet as the crowd clapped and cheered and whistled.

“I love you!” You cried, throwing your arms around his neck. He held you tight, picking you up off your feet for a moment.

“I love you more, Mrs. Hudson.” He pulled back, a lopsided grin on his face. “That sounds kinda funny, doesn’t it?”

“No! Funny?” You asked, laughing and hitting his arm as he laughed too. “I love the way it sounds.”

The night went on with the dinner being served and guests coming over to congratulate you both. You got a dance with each of the guys and Slash danced a number of times with your mom and his own mother.

When it was time to throw your bouquet, your best friend caught it. The guys were much more excited to watch Slash retrieve your garter—if only for the chance to try and embarrass Slash.

He had a wobbly smile on his face as he got down to knees to a loud yell from Duff and a whistle from Axl. “Alright, here I go,” he laughed to you before he lifted your large skirt and stuck his head underneath.

“Hey, where’s the fun in that?” Axl booed. You felt Slash kiss up your leg from the privacy of underneath your dress and couldn’t help but blush as you tried to not make eye contact with his parents. His breath on your leg going higher and higher had you struggling not to squirm in your seat and you knew from the smirks of your friends they must have known too. Finally, Slash reappeared, holding your garter in between his teeth to raucous cheering. He tossed it into the crowd, where it landed on top of Izzy’s hat. He immediately began blushing with embarrassment at the attention the garter was garnering. You were just glad the attention was away from you.

Soon, it was time to cut the cake. It was a large tiered cake adorned in beautiful ruby red roses and intricate icing designs almost made to imitate a lace material. Slash didn’t trust himself to be the one to cut into the cake, so you did it with his hand holding yours. Obediently, you cut two pieces for yourselves and ate the first bite, giggling at each other and feeling silly. Slash’s eyes flashed at you and darted next to him to where Duff stood at his side. You glanced next to you, where Steven was smiling. Reading each other’s minds, you both slammed your pieces of cake respectively into his band mates’ faces. Slash couldn’t reach Duff’s face, so most of the cake ended up on his collar and tie. Steven’s shocked face staring back at you made you laugh, but he merely wiped the cake off his face with his finger and licked the icing, laughing too.

Duff took the pieces of fallen cake and tried to get Izzy, who smartly ducked to the back of the crowd. Slash had somehow ended up with cake on his face and you laughed to yourself, pulling him by the collar of his shirt towards you to kiss. You could taste the sweet icing on his lips and smiled into the kiss; he had his hands out in the air to avoid getting cake on your dress.

“I love you,” he told you as he pulled away, still laughing at Duff and Steven trying to rid themselves of cake. You smiled, wrapping your arm around his waist.

“And I love you.”

[lab-trash]

Anything for You

Sorry it’s been a while, but I think we’re getting a bit there. 

Chapter List

Chase was… making progress. Not great progress, but it was progress. Megahertz was getting better at teaching too, which was good.

Kaz missed spending the time with Chase. It wasn’t a big deal. At least he had Oliver to spend time with, now that he’d officially given up on Skylar (her being a lesbian and all)

Still though, the only time he spent with Chase now was… well, it was actually pretty often, but it was never alone with him. He missed their alone time.

Maybe they’d take up watching more Titanio if their schedules allowed it.

He’d been mostly playing video games with Oliver, which was fine. But a big part of him missed training with Chase, even if he occasionally got shocked with so many volts of electricity that he may have twitched for five minutes.

It could’ve been worse, to be fair.

Chase missed training with Kaz too, but he had to admit that he’d been making much more progress ever since he started training with Megahertz.

He made a note to ask how Kaz and Oliver mastered their powers so fast without a mentor.

Megahertz trained really hard when they trained, but he also usually respected Chase’s wishes if he needed to stop for the day or take a break. Most of the breaks, Chase’s mind would be occupied with asking Megahertz loads of questions about the psyche of a supervillain, and how one can change into a hero, but he never did.

“Hey, Megahertz, can we not train today?” Chase asked when he saw his teacher come through the hyperlift.

“Why?” He asked, confused.

“Well, I just wanted to maybe… spend time with my– with Kaz,” He said. Megahertz crossed his arms smuggly.

“You haven’t been spending time with him?” He asked, sounding apparently concerned.

“We usually trained together. So we can’t find an excuse to run off without people getting suspicious,” Chase explained. “And we’re not ready to…”

“I get that,” he said, “Yeah, kid, go ahead. We don’t need to train every day anyway. Wouldn’t want you to get burnt out.”

“Can’t you get burnt out?”

“My energy comes from an array of car batteries,” Megahertz said quite bluntly. “When I sleep, I’m really just charging. Our powers aren’t that similar.”

Chase tried not to think about the fact that he kind of did recharge, just not for his superpowers, for his bionics.

Chase tried not to think about his experiences with Marcus as he anxiously walked into the hyperlift.

Megahertz wasn’t a bad guy anymore. Megahertz wasn’t Marcus. Megahertz wasn’t going to hurt him, and he wasn’t going to hurt his team. Megahertz was going to help them. The Elite Force.

Chase must’ve been spaced out in fighting his thoughts for a little bit because he was startled when someone spoke up.

“Hey, Chasey,” Kaz said, sounding a bit concerned. “You alright there, bud? You’ve been spaced out for like 30 seconds,” He said. Chase tried to clear his mind as he walked to where Kaz was on the couch, and sat down next to him.

“It’s nothing,” He said. Kaz rolled his eyes, knowing that was definitely a lie. He put his arm up on the back rest, as kind of the diet version of putting his arm around Chase.

“Well, if you decide it’s not nothing, I’ll listen, okay?” He offered. Chase nodded “Good,” Kaz said with a smile. “Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be training?”

“I wanted to spend time with you,” Chase said quietly, staring down at his hands. Kaz looked around, checking for anyone else around. When he saw that no one else was around, he hugged his arm around Chase properly.

“Aw, baby,” He teased. “I want to spend time with you too,” He said. He glanced around again before pecking Chase’s cheek and pulling his arm away from Chase. Just in case. “Do you want to watch something, or play some video games, or just… hang out?” He asked, honestly slightly hoping for the third one. He missed spending time with Chase though, and anything was enough for him.

“We could just talk,” Chase offered. Kaz nodded.

“How’s training with Megahertz been?”

“It’s fine,” Chase said, “He’s a little more hardcore than I’m used to, but he’s teaching me how to use my powers and stuff,” he said. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“You could ask him to go easier on you,” Kaz said, “I mean, he is like a foot and a half taller than you,” He said. Chase rolled his eyes and lightly punched his boyfriend’s arm.

“That’s not the issue,” He said. Kaz moved closer to Chase, discreetly taking his hand.

“What’s wrong then?”

“How do you know that he won’t betray us? How do you know that Megahertz won’t turn on us?”

Kaz wasn’t expecting that. He was much more expecting something like Megahertz is simply more powerful and skilled, and Chase couldn’t keep up. But not this.

Being honest, Kaz had no clue if they could trust Megahertz or not, but Tecton seemed to trust him quite a bit, which meant a lot to Kaz. After all, Tecton wasn’t just a superhero, he was also Kaz’s personal hero.

“Well, how do you know that Douglas won’t turn on us?” Kaz retorted, trying to prove a point. There was a small part of him that worried that this wouldn’t help Chase’s anxiety and would in fact increase it, having to worry out two former villains instead of just one.

After a moment of thinking, Chase spoke up.

“He’s family,” He said, “It’s easier to trust him. All we had in the basement was family, so…”

“Saying ‘all we had in the basement,’ makes it sound like you were like… in a war,” Kaz said, lightening the mood as well as he could. Chase let out a light laugh, although he was still clearly stressed and anxious. “Well, for me… Tecton is kind of the closest thing that I had to a dad. Sure, I grew up with my actual father, along with like… three older brothers. But Tecton was the only person who seemed to actually care about me and my well-being.”

“What about Horace? I thought he…”

“He was more like Connie’s dad. Skylar, I mean,” He said. “He was too, kind of. But he was more like a weird uncle.” His face morphed into something disgusted. “Does that mean Alan is my brother…” He muttered. He shook his head, getting back on track. “My point is, Tecton is like family to me. And he trusts Megahertz, so…” Chase nodded.

“Alright,” He said. There was a pause while Chase’s brain worked overtime to pump out more anxiety. “How can you trust Tecton?” He asked. “I mean, you were never that close to your family, so saying he’s like family might not mean that much for you. What if he’s also a supervillain?”

Kaz sighed, thinking about his experiences. Experion actually working for The Annihilator, Skylar becoming a supervillain, all those superheroes being turned evil by her, including Tecton. Wallace and Clyde, Bridget.

Fuck.

Wait.

“I can prove that Tecton isn’t a supervillain,” He said, a wide smile on his face.

“How?” Chase asked. Kaz pulled out his phone, texting Tecton.

“So, when superheroes become supervillains, they have a tell,” Kaz said vaguely. “So, I’m gonna text Tecton to come up here, so I can prove to you that he’s a superhero.”

Chase smiled at Kaz’s gesture, although a large part of him was sure that it wouldn’t change his mind, no matter what it was.

In a matter of minutes, Tecton came up to the living room

“Whaddya need, Kaz?” He asked. Kaz waved him over.

“Here, give me your hand,” He said. Tecton, confused, slowly put his hand into Kaz’s.

He was wearing a glove, even though he was in his civilian clothes.

“When a superhero turns into a villain, one of their defining traits turns white,” Kaz said, yanking off Tecton’s glove. The insignia on his hand wasn’t white.

But it also wasn’t his usual deep, royal blue. Instead, the insignia was a faded blue, as if it were a temporary tattoo that was rubbing off.

“Tecton?” Kaz asked worriedly, his voice creaking.

“Right,” Tecton said, taking his hand away. “So, ever since being captured by those shapeshifters, my powers have felt… subpar,” He said. Chase blinked at him.

“Subpar is a good thing,” He said.

“Alright, above par, is that a bad thing?” Tecton said, slightly exasperated.

“Well, it’s not good,” Chase said. Kaz pet Chase’s arm, silently telling him ‘you’re adorable, but stop.’

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Kaz asked. “Me and Oliver, I mean. We might not work at Mighty Med anymore, but we worked there for almost four years, we know what we’re doing.” Chase nodded.

“They saved Crossbow’s life,” He said, stopping himself from talking about the fact that what they did made absolutely no sense.

“You couldn’t even run any tests on me, you probably don’t have any of the necessary equipment,” Tecton said. Kaz scoffed.

“Yeah, like that’s gonna stop me.”

[karliahs]

please leave a light on when you go

oneshot - jontim - 2k words

written for @jontim-week day 2, prompts: night out / touch / secret

 “I...might go out for a smoke,” Jon murmurs eventually.

 And here’s where Tim could say sure, wave him off and go back to moping, buy everyone an obligatory round, flex his meaningless chat muscles and be home by half 9. “Mind if I join you?” he asks instead, and to his surprise Jon nods immediately, as if he’d been hoping Tim would say that.

read on ao3! or below the cut:

There’s no reason for Tim to be here. The Institute has some weird policies, including a truly esoteric dress code, but it doesn’t have mandatory team-building night-outs. Tim has no reason to get to know his coworkers, no need to ingratiate himself to them beyond what he can get by smiling, making bland comments about his weekend plans and never microwaving fish in the breakroom. 

The pub they’re in, somehow identical to every workplace-night-out pub he’s ever been to, seems to be having some sort of throwback night. Early-nineties hits play just loud enough to grate, and Tim eyes his new coworkers, trying to muster up some enthusiasm for striking up a conversation. He imagines what they might say if he told the truth. <i>Hi, I’m Timothy. I left behind a career in publishing to be a junior researcher so that I can hunt monsters like fucking Scooby Doo. If you need me, I’ll be chasing answers I’ll never find, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about them even if I did! Another round?</i>

Maybe that’s why he came tonight. To have these thoughts somewhere other than his flat. His little studio can only hold so much brooding. 

He’s interrupted from his current round of brooding, first by an unsteady grab at his shoulder, then by a cascade of beer, then by a glass clattering onto the floor followed by a hush in the surrounding buzz of conversation. A quiet, posh voice swears, and Tim recognises one of his coworkers bending down to try and clean up the mess, though it takes him a moment to place the name.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, glancing up at Tim before sheepishly looking back at the mess on the floor. Off to the side, a few tables give a sarcastic cheer and a round of applause. Tim worked food service long enough to instinctively dislike anyone who does this. He grabs some napkins and bends down to help Jon.

“Hey, no harm done,” Tim says, trying to remember how to sound friendly. He scoops up the somehow still-intact glass. “They’re wise enough to make them sturdy around here.”

Jon huffs, somewhat ineffectually blotting at the spreading puddle on the ground. “Did - your clothes, I didn’t, ah-”

“Only a glancing blow,” Tim answers, brushing at the damp spots by his hip. “And after I went to all this trouble to dress up for the occasion.”

Jon looks up in alarm, before registering that Tim hadn’t even bothered to change out of his work clothes. He gives a small, reluctant smile; one of the first expressions Tim’s seen from him that wasn’t some variant of thoughtful frown. 

He’s seen Jon around a bit, in his few weeks at the Institute - about Tim’s age, relatively nondescript, tonight clad in a surprisingly lush leather jacket. Tim had made the mistake of asking him a couple of questions on his first day, when the person actually training him was on lunch. Jon had blustered and prevaricated for a few minutes before admitting it was only his second week in the job, so he didn’t actually know.

That was about the only time they’d interacted, though Tim had noticed a few other things. There were a few loose groups of friendships in Research, and Jon didn’t seem to be a part of any of them. He never seemed that steady on his feet, and he tended to avoid eating in public. He rarely asked for help, unless he needed something that would require him to use one of the library ladders, which he seemed determined to avoid. Tim had wondered idly about vertigo, or mobility issues, before reminding himself these weren’t the questions he was here to answer. 

Tim had always noticed people, collected little details about them in his head whether he intended to or not, but he thinks his observations used to be about happier things, though it’s hard to remember exactly how he was, how he felt, before - it wasn’t the kind of thing he ever tried to memorise, the kind of thing he ever thought he could lose. Now he finds himself taking note of the coworker who comes back from their lunch break with faint puffy red marks around their eyes, or the older guy who checks his phone with something like dread in his eyes. Danny would have called it his older brother instincts (but what good did those instincts do him?).

Tim blinks back to the present, realising he’s been pushing a napkin over the same spot of floor for a while now. Jon offers him a hand up, though he braces himself on the bar with his other hand before he does. Tim takes care not to let Jon take too much of his weight as he’s hauled back up. 

“Ah, thank you. And apologies, again,” Jon murmurs, gesturing awkwardly at Tim’s lightly-beered clothes. 

“Happens to everyone,” Tim says easily. Jon still looks lightly anguished, and Tim silently wishes this could have happened to someone else, someone with the confidence to laugh it off. “I’m always convinced I’m going to drop something when I go in the silent study bit of the library,” Tim offers. 

“Ah...that worry hadn’t actually occurred to me,” Jon replies, solemn enough that Tim can’t really tell if he’s joking. 

Tim finger-guns. “Any other anxieties I can stir up while you’re over here?”

“I’m quite capable of stoking my own neuroses, thank you.”

Jon glances over his shoulder at the tables the rest of the department are occupying, perhaps doing the same thing as Tim and trying to psyche himself up for some more hollow smalltalk. Tim notes that his jacket seems slightly large on him, but in a way that kind of works. The collar of his shirt is slightly out of place beneath it. There’s a lump forming in Tim’s throat, even though nothing is happening - nothing but standing close to someone, noticing the little signs that they’re real and alive entirely independent from him. He’s aware, as he always is, of the hollow pit in his stomach, pain ebbing and flowing but never gone, new flares thrown off from a familiar wound, now pulsing with a kind of loneliness. All this, just from standing close to someone and trying to make them feel better about a mistake that didn’t matter.  

“I...might go out for a smoke,” Jon murmurs eventually.

And here’s where Tim could say sure, wave him off and go back to moping, buy everyone an obligatory round, flex his meaningless chat muscles and be home by half 9. “Mind if I join you?” he asks instead, and to his surprise Jon nods immediately, as if he’d been hoping Tim would say that. 

They duck outside to find dark clouds have given way to an anticlimactic drizzle. They stay close to the pub, shielded from the rain by the slight overhang of the roof. Jon fumbles with a lighter and Tim finds his gaze drifting over the rain-slick streets. It’s been a while since he’s been...anywhere, really, other than work and his flat. Longer than he can remember since he was outside in the never-quite-dark of the city. 

Despite himself, Tim finds himself admiring the buildings across the way, modern painted shop-fronts on the ground floor giving way to weathered brick and occasional stone carvings above. It was the first thing he’d loved about London, how you only had to look up to catch a glimpse of its history, and it almost wounds him all over again, that that love isn’t gone too. It would be easier if he was just one thing, all the way lost. It would be easier if he didn’t still love the world that killed Danny.

Jon lights his cigarette, and silently holds the lighter out to Tim. Tim shakes his head, and Jon doesn’t question him about why he’s come out here if he doesn’t smoke. Doesn’t press about the way Tim must be looking; he knows he’s never had much of a poker face. Danny tried to teach him poker, on a visit home from uni; Tim left for six weeks and came back to playing cards and strategy guides everywhere - his brother, who never sit still even in his own head -

“Where were you, before this?” Jon asks. Tim wouldn’t have pegged him for a smoker, but he looks immediately more relaxed with a cigarette in his hands. Nice hands, too. It would be easier, if he didn’t-

“Publishing,” Tim answers, before he can drift again. He wants to say more, to make sure this undemanding presence isn’t going to leave his side, but his throat is still tight. “You?” 

Jon frowns, as if debating something to himself, then gives a tiny rueful smile. “Tesco.”

Tim grins. “Was it a haunted Tesco?”

“Only by customers,” Jon replies, dry as bone. 

The rain is picking up slightly, and both of them silently tuck further into their little alcove, bringing them shoulder to shoulder. The air tastes of smoke. Tim is watching moths in the streetlights above, partly out of fear that if he looks directly at Jon, he’ll realise how close they are and pull back. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Jon asks, voice hushed. He gestures and Tim follows the point of light with his eyes. “The smell, I mean?”

“Always kind of liked it,” Tim answers, matching Jon’s tone. Jon scoffs in disbelief. “What? You’re the one who inhales the things.”

“Exactly,” Jon says. “I have a biochemical justification for finding the smell tolerable. What’s your excuse?”

Tim spreads his hands, little spots of rain landing on his sleeve. “I never claimed to make sense.”

In the corner of his eye, Tim catches Jon hiding a smile with his next drag. It’s a good smile, one he wants to get a proper look at sometime. It’s as if now that he’s noticed one beautiful thing, he can’t stop seeing them: the buildings; the rain; the passing pair of drunk students across the way, walking arm in arm, holding each other up. There’s a curl of anger in his chest, that these things still get to exist, but for the moment it coexists with a kind of quiet warmth.

“You want to know a secret?” Tim asks, finally turning to look directly at Jon. Jon doesn’t speak, doesn’t nod, but he stares and waits, lights reflecting in his dark eyes, and for a moment Tim feels as though he must already know what Tim is going to say, that he can look into Tim’s eyes and learn everything he’s ever tried to hide. He can’t decide if it’s peaceful or terrifying. 

Then Jon blinks and the feeling is gone, as quickly as it had come. “I like this party better,” Tim finishes, gesturing to the two of them. The things he could have said hang in the air between them.

Jon doesn’t quite manage to hide his smile this time, and yeah, that’s something Tim needs to see more of, all slow and crooked. 

“Well,” Jon says, still in the same hushed voice, as if they’re sharing secrets. “If you ever need to borrow my smoking habit, get you out of an unpleasant social situation…”

“Knew that was why people smoked,” Tim says, nudging Jon’s shoulder with his own. “I’m not normally…” He trails off, unsure how to explain himself. Normally I’d care at least a bit, about all those people in there. Normally I’d at least have the energy to pretend.

Jon considers this half-finished thought for a long moment. “Abnormality is...rather the Institute’s specialty,” he offers eventually. Tim feels a kind of gratitude he can’t name or voice, so he doesn’t, just stands there listening to the rain while Jon finishes his cigarette, and for a long time after.

Not a bad night out, after all. 

[gagmebucky]

[steve. breeding kink. baby.]

“Wanna know what makes it worse?” Steve leans in and trails his nose along the inviting curve of your shoulder and neck until his lips are adjacent with your ear. “My sense of smell, it tells me when your body is just ripe for the taking. It’s like you’re fucking calling me every single month—begging me to put your little pussy out of your misery. . . fuck and fuck until you’re milkin’ my kid right outta me.”

in which you’re playing with a baby and steve can’t resist himself. (includes steve’s pov, avenger!steve rogers x girlfriend!reader, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise kink, mild daddy kink, unprotected sex.) 

do not repost.

—

Procedure requires debriefing at the end of every mission. In this hours-long process, an agent must recap the objectives and the means used to achieve them; deviations to the original plan and why; as well as whether success was gained, and any other pertinent intel possibly acquired.

This routine is mandatory for all those working for and with an organization like S.H.I.E.L.D.; not even the Avengers are exempt from this. Except in this particular case where the titular first of the super-powered team has forgone the professional necessity, and instead, is in search of you. 

Normally, America’s golden boy can handle the dangers that occur in such a violent but imperative field. He understands the risks and pressures inherent to his line of duty, and he’s always accepted it, dealt with it because the overall outcome dwarfs the bad.

On this particular assignment, however, the stakes were higher than usual and although the quick snap-quick decisions he made ultimately paid off, it didn’t soften the blow of the sacrifices made. Times like this, he has to wonder if it’s worth it.

The tension weighs on his shoulders and crackles underneath his skin; his synapses are frayed with the memory of each fallen agent, the orders he doled out preambling every one, and the electricity curls his fists and locks his jaw. It’s corrupting that logical part of his brain, and that craving for vengeance can’t be sated with  his knuckles breaking a few punching bags. 

In rare moments like these, when the serum is pumping through his veins like rabies, there’s one thing to straighten the edges and bring him back from the trenches. That solace is you; your alluring smile and twinkling eyes, the musical carry of your laugh, your seemingly innate ability to figure out what’s wrong and quell the turmoil cycloning inside of him. 

So he doesn’t report to Fury like he’s supposed to, doesn’t go over the myriad of errors that only worsened as the mission progressed—no one stops him either. 

When employees spot him marching down the corridors, stealth suit still on and rippling across his hulking mass, his strides colliding deafeningly with the floor, handsome and affable features tightened intensely, their only recourse is moved out of the way. Thankfully, they get the hint because if someone hadn’t, he knows he’d snap and do something he might regret. 

His senses, formerly haywire in his manic state, have lasered into tunnel focus; his eardrums hone in on the specific sound wave of your crooning voice, and the olfactory nerves in his nostrils guide him in a trail to the source of your intoxicating essence.

Steve slams the door open and storms into the upper, restricted level of the headquarters. His hastened pace slows upon your increased dose, lulling his awareness and distance waning significantly. As his search nears its end, he recognizes where he’s at: the luxurious space designed by and created for Tony Stark. 

The doors are open so he doesn’t waste time knocking (not that he possesses the patience to abide by his hundred year old manners). Upon entry, he’s taken the tranquility occupying the atmosphere and the sight of you bathed in the sun’s glow; bright rays beam through the impenetrable windowed wall of the tower while you gently rock the three month old baby perched on your shoulder, probably basking in the dual warmth of you and the star.    

From afar, behind you, the brown-eyed girl’s mother stands. With her head tilted and soft gratefulness slanted into her lips, the strawberry blonde’s hip rests against the office’s wet bar and watches fondly as you effortlessly soothe her child’s fussiness into a thumb-sucking slumber. 

“Aren’t they cute?” Pepper Potts remarks as he steps beside her. Her gaze maintains on his girlfriend and her daughter. “Morgan would not stop crying for the past few hours, and I did everything to calm her down. I was frazzled and at my wit’s end then I handed her off to her aunt, and now she’s as quiet as a mouse.” She pauses and spares a glance over to his adoration-fixed stare, a slyness twisting into her smile. “I don't know what stage you two are at but she’d make a great mom.” 

Steve knows you occasionally babysit for the Starks, but he’s never seen you like this. You’re in your element, swaying back and forth while you hum inaudibly into the infamous delicate baby’s ear. Her small hands are curled around your neck and her face nuzzled into the crease of your shoulder, with the opposing thumb slid between her lips as her big chocolate eyes flutter into a peaceful rest. 

Suddenly breathless—but it’s not from the exertion—he has to agree, nodding his head. “Y - yeah,” he answers to both statements because it’s fucking adorable, and while there’s never been a doubt about your caring nature, this cements the fact that you would be an amazing mother. The sensation boils in his gut, and his fingers twitch at his sides. “Has she always been this good with her?”

“Oh, yeah,” Pepper tells him matter-of-factly. “With her, other kids, too. She came with us to the park, and this one kid was screaming his head off and she just went over and poof! He was happy.” Her eyes are back on your slow pacing silhouette. “I would swear she was made for this. I bet she was a nanny in another life.” 

His knuckles clench as her words ignite the simmering inferno of his being. Made for this, made for this, echoes in his head and he has to remind himself that he’s in public. But the primal image of you, radiating like an angel with a little piece of him growing inside you, has already carved itself in the forefront of his psyche.

Steve has never been into traditional gender roles, not even when he was in his time and it was the norm (he’s always been a very progressive thinker). But, God, he can’t deny the appeal now that he has you. There’s something so primally satisfying about having you at home, free of any worries that aren’t about your family, potentially—preferably—knocked up.

The carnal urge grips him more intensely than before. Usually, he can suppress that visceral desire to bury himself bare inside you and spill his virility until he further claims you as his. However, receiving a glimpse of you in this maternal state, it has every instinct screaming that you’re irrefutably perfect and primed. 

As if on cue, you turn around with the effectively lullabied infant clinging around your neck. After a flicker of surprise, pleasant then concerned, you pad on over to carefully hand over Morgan to her thankful mother. Your attention rivets back to him with a knitted brow gaze. 

“Babe, hey,” you greet in a gentle voice. Worry ebbs into your gaze amongst the usual stare of attraction upon dragging across the navy blue material that still clings to his muscular torso. You offer your hand, which he immediately takes, and you guide him out of the office into the hallway. The door shuts behind you, and the sectioned off level is empty, but your voice is still quiet when asking, “What happened?”  

You stand barely a breath away, and the proximity pacifies his senses. His stance loosens while a smile upturns a corner of his mouth. “Nothing,” he answers then clarifies, “Nothing that matters anymore, anyway.” 

The amendment dwindles your concerned curiosity because it’s honest—he doesn’t need to dwell when you’re standing here—and you can hear it; another lovingly scrutinizing up-and-down glance confirms that his earlier disquietude has settled significantly.

“D’you have fun back there?” he goes onto wonder, eyes flickering over to the closed door.   Your earlier titillatingly visage snaps into his brain, and he subconsciously bites down on his bottom lip. “You looked like you were.” 

You accept his subject-change with a nonchalant shrug. “Babies like me, and I like them,” you tell him, smiling at the admission. “What can I say?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that you want me to knock you up.” The words fumble out of his mouth before he thinks about it, and while he hadn’t intended on letting it slip, if he did, it would’ve been without the serious fluctuation he blurted it out with. 

In a lame attempt to correct his slip of the tongue regarding a topic you both rarely discussed, he quickly adds, “I’m joking.” A surprised expression had crossed your features upon processing his former response, transitioning into something he can’t yet pinpoint if he likes. As if to test the waters—or dig himself into a deeper hole—he says, matter-of-factly, borderline suggestive, “But you know, back in my day, you’d probably already have a few popped out by now.”

“Mr. Rogers!” you gasp in an almost-shocked tone, but your cheeks split with a devious grin. “Are you telling me you want to be a daddy?” 

Disheveled by his mission, then upended by your placating presence, he’s more awkward than the day he met you. “Fuck. Look, I’d never pressure you, okay?” For the millionth time, the previous scene plays mentally; he exhales heavily. “It’s just you with her, and I. . . never mind.” He shakes his head, deciding he’s still on the edge from both events today, and dismisses his animalistic inkling. “Act like I didn’t say anything.” 

You fold your arms and nod.

“Uh-huh, daddy,” you drawl, scintillating in mischievousness that simultaneously has his heart skipping a beat and his cock jumping. Your smirk widens before disappearing beneath a cascade of feigned innocence. “We can just act like you don’t want me to have your kid.”

 His lips part at your teasing twist of his words. “That’s - that’s not what I said.” 

“Isn’t it?” You lift a brow. “It is. So, maybe I should find a guy who does. I think any other man would take immense pleasure in going condomless inside of me.” One hand wiggles into your jacket pocket while you peddle away from his orbit; a rectangular plastic ruffles as his reflexes instinctively catch it. “You know, I think Bucky would really appreciate me. I bet he’d have the manners to really wife me up and make me—“

He knows you’re poking fun of him; playfulness alight within your gaze that he usually enjoys. In actuality, he understands there’s zero truth in your jesting and he’d be more amused than jealous. However, currently, the circumstances have corrupted his sensibilities. 

“That’s not funny.”

Your laugh echoes musically. “It’s not ‘cause it isn’t a joke,” you say between your giggles, your amusement pardoning your spacial awareness. “I mean—Steve!” Your yelp is louder and even more musical when he surges forth and reigns you in. 

Air expels from your chest as his body cages yours against the wall. Using one hand to brace himself above you, his opposing appendage tilts your dazed blinking up. “Now do you really think I don’t want you to carry my kid?” he rumbles. “Because if it were up to me, I would’ve taken claim to your womb the second I saw you.” 

Your breathing hitches, and you try to remain unaffected but he’s too keen on your reactions to be fooled. “O - oh?” 

“Yeah.” His tongue swipes across his bottom lip. “Wanna know what makes it worse?” He leans in and trails his nose along the inviting curve of your shoulder and neck until his lips are adjacent to your ear. “My sense of smell, it tells me when your body is just ripe for the taking. It’s like you’re fucking calling me every single month—begging me to put your little pussy out of your misery. . . fuck and fuck until you’re milkin’ my kid right outta me.” 

A sound, hybrid between a moan and a gasp, escapes your throat; humor eviscerated, desire exudes from you and submerges his senses in a provoking intoxication. The rush sinks into his brain and triggers that visceral frenzy within him but he has no interest in suppressing it anymore. 

He releases a guttural groan and grabs your hips. His big hands splay on either side, thumb slightly kneading back and forth, and he draws you in closer. “I can smell you right now, too. Not only how wet you’re gettin’ but that it’s that time for you, isn’t it?” he purrs and nips at your lobe. “You’re mine for the taking.” His teeth catch your pulse, sucking a mark onto the vulnerable skin. “Hm, baby?”

“Y - yes!” you moan wantonly loud as your weight sags into his embrace. “Always.”

“Good—” His hands cinch on your flanks and abruptly hoist you up: prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms to encircle around his neck. “—cause holding back with you is gonna be impossible.”

With your body clutched  around his abdomen, he heads for the closest empty room, scoped out via his enhanced hearing. Unceremoniously, he turns a handle and breaks the lock of the unused office space; two doors down from the main room, it’s smaller but it has a sturdy-looking desk in the center.

He kicks the door shut and sets you down as your lips find his. Although you’re sat down, legs dangling over the wooden edge, you keep your elbows hooked around the nape of his neck and coax a ragged groan out of his chest with the deft stroke of your tongue. 

“Shit, baby,” he breathes and parts from you in order to yank your jacket down your shoulders. Tossing it off the side, he reveals a braless tank top and your nipples he can see have pebbled underneath. His imagination takes off once more, envisioning what the already perfect twins will look like in the wake of his seed taking root inside you.

His blood pumps viciously, flowing downward and flooding his cock to strain beneath the oppressive stealth-suit fabric. Like you’re reading his mind, you unhook the utility belt and similarly shove it off somewhere on the side.

Something rustles, and it’s the condom you’d thrown at him. Absentmindedly tucked under the cinch of the belt previously, it falls into your undressing hands. Your eyes rivet up to him, lashes fluttering big, as you hold it between two fingers: halfway offering. “What are you gonna do, daddy?” 

At that particular moment, it occurs to him that you’re doubting his seriousness. While abundantly clear you want this, you’re dubious on whether he’s going through it. Which is preposterous, but he figures that the look on your face when he spills inside you bareback will only further his orgasm, consequently heightening the odds of his end-goal. 

He plucks the packaging from of your grip, holds it up as your gazes clash and makes a show out of discarding it out of reach. Then he seizes your knees and slides your ass to the edge so your center is flushed against him, rocking into his hardened imprint.

“You,” he answers your query, tone a growl, as he peels your jeans off. He continues on just to shred your panties. “I’m doing you. With nothing to separate me from you, nothing to keep you from your rightful destiny: knocked up with our baby.”

“Please,” is all you utter, but the room’s thick with sensory evidence of your essence. 

Spreading your thighs as far as possible, he glances down to spit lewdly on your glistening mound; a long dribble of saliva coating your eager button and slit. He uses his thumb to smear it all over, mixing with the puddle you’re creating, dipping into your sticky folds with his middle finger. 

The whole time, you’re choking with these hungry and appreciative little noises. Likewise, you’re watching as he prepares you thoroughly and roughly to wring the cum out of him. “S - Steve,” you mewl coherently and buck into his messy caress. Your fingers are tugging pleading on the lower half of his uniform. “I need you. Please!” 

It is about damn time. 

His control has been witting away since the first time you called him daddy. He swiftly wrenches the suit down and exposes his leaking, throbbing cock to your tunnel of relief. His size always dwarfs your kempt triangle; an initial observation one might come to is the improbability he won’t fit. But he does, every single time, and in this special instance, he’s going to ensure all of his formidable length is buried in your fertile heat.         

He rasps his tip over your clit, plastering his translucent white pre-cum over the engorged nub, then traces down the crease of your slit. As he prods in, his hands span your thighs and  help open up your elastic entrance for his  ravenous cock. He stretches your tightness slow but unyieldingly while you both watch with labored breathing, transfixed by the sight of your dripping core enveloping his veined and tanned angry stalk until he’s nudging your cervix.

“Good girl,” he grits out, strangled by the electricity prickling his nerves.  He slips support underneath your ass, intertwining from the inner to the outer so when he hauls you up, your knees are bent over his elbows. “You ready to make me a daddy, baby?”

“Yes!” You nod quickly with a moan. “Shit, you’re big—and deep. Really fucking deep.”

He chuckles huskily because if you think that now, he can’t wait to see you once he’s truly plundered new depths. “Now, you just hold on tight and let me do all the work. I only want you to focus on givin’ me a baby, okay?”

In the middle of an abandoned office room—possibly a storage area—he heaves you up and drops you back down. Your arms curl around his neck, hands twisting into his suit, while he alters between gravity and his hips jutting forth to drill inside you.   

Without any mind to those around you—just you and him—he fucks you with every ounce of strength coiled into his super-charged build. Ignoring the fact that door is unlocked, broken more specifically, and the possibility that there’s likely high quality surveillance cameras watching, your shared sounds of carnality fills the room in between the harsh collision of skin. 

Each propelling thrust seems to jostle further than further, carving himself into your inner walls. Like he said before, he handles all the work, effortlessly bouncing your sporadically clenching channel with his inhuman strength and stamina; leaving you to accept and bask in the stimulation his cock is providing and the gift he’ll be depositing inside of you any time now. 

Your lips are breathless in his ear, gasping, “Daddy, please,” that has him climbing the rope faster. The beg pours gasoline on an already roaring fire, igniting wildly to burn up his legs then his stomach and on its way to take him under.

“Y’gonna make me a daddy, baby? You’re gonna be a pretty lil’ mommy and take care of us? Is that what you want?” he croons, identifying the way you tighten as your steadily approaching orgasm. “Y’gonna have your pretty pussy squeeze me until I’m shooting my load and knocking you up?” 

He’s pretty sure your nails have punctured the suit’s resilient material. “S - Steve, fuck! Please. Yes! Cum inside me—cum inside me—“ you cry out with genuine desperation that his limbs tingling numbly. “I want it. I want you. Please. I wanna feel you!” 

His jaw locks and works you somehow even harder. The room is completely engulfed with you, your arousal, the potency of your ovulation, and your future with him; once he releases, it’ll only seal the fact that you’re his and belong to him (as well as vice versa). 

“Who’s gonna be a daddy, baby? Who are you making a daddy, baby?” His words are practically slurred while fever coalesces across his entirety. “Who owns your pretty little pussy and your womb?” 

“You—Steve—daddy,” you sob as your orgasm  seizes up around his cock, giving him no other choice other than to: “Cum inside me, daddy—!” 

Something beastly rips out of his chest, and without protest, he gifts you exactly what you want. He burrows into the absolute hilt and fires inside you for what feels like forever. Spurts of ooze finally wane, nudging your fruitful cervix, but even then, he doesn’t dare retreat from your heavenly depths. 

The aftershocks force him to set you back down on the desk, still buried and keeping you stuffed. His face nuzzles the junction between your neck and shoulder languorously,  and you lazily run your fingers through his hair, walls periodically pulsating. 

When he regains the energy, he straightens and pulls out of you until his bulbous head is blocking your entrance; he stops there because he realizes something. “It’s gonna leak, and as hot as that is, I need to keep you full, baby.” Abruptly, he hauls you up and shuffles the position so that he’s sitting on the desk, and you’re sitting on his cock.

Your sensitivity flares around him, and you squeal. “F - fuck!” But you adjust to comfortability, blinking at him. “For how long?” 

A smile curls into his lips, and he strokes your cheek while his other hand lays on your belly. “For as long as it takes.”

[masterlist / feedback]

[drxwsyni]

Petrified (pt.3)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: is this what they call a slow burn?? i promise the intense yandere stuff goes down soon...-ish. i’d like to have a new part out every week or so, give or take a few days. we’ll see how it goes, but for now enjoy the new chapter!!!

ALSO WE REACHED 200 FOLLOWERS LAST NIGHT THANKS Y’ALL, YOU’RE AMAZING

(5.8k words)

Warnings: reader experiences mild anxiety

If there was ever a time in your life when you felt like you could finally take some well needed rest, it was now.

It wasn’t like you had a choice though, your nurse making it very clear that you weren’t cleared for discharge yet. Therefore another long bout of unconsciousness was the only option you had whilst in the dreary hospital room, and waking from it felt much more pleasant than you anticipated.

Your sleep schedule appeared to be unaffected by the recent events, something you were grateful for. It had you up on this fine Sunday morning at precisely 8:12 am, according to the time on your phone. Unfortunately, you neglected to bring a charger with you to work on Friday. So when your abandoned belongings were retrieved from that dreaded alleyway, you were still left with relatively nothing to keep you occupied. The phone was running on a steadily declining 14% battery life, leaving its use to be minimized to an expensive clock.

With nothing to pass the time in that regard, you simply observed the world coming to life outside your window. It left you the chance to go over the past 48 hours in peace, and you specifically regarded the strange development from last night.

It wasn’t something you hadn’t already been over multiple times in your head, but you still couldn’t manage to wrap your mind around the motivation that was fuelling Shouta and Hizashi to propose such a request. Concern over your health did explain some of it, but the extent of the actions caused by this concern was not at all equal to the reasoning.

Regardless, you’d already accepted to fulfill their strange request, so there wasn’t much that overthinking the situation would do to benefit you at this point.

_____

Breakfast came at around 8:30 am, effectively pulling you out of your wandering thoughts. It was simple enough: eggs, sausage, toast, a side of bland oatmeal and a tall glass of water.

The nurse left you to your own devices after that, telling you that for now it was a matter of continuing the same treatment before any more judgments could be made.

This wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t growing increasingly bored by the minute due to the lack of distractions. So when the sound of a certain voice hero’s conversation could be heard on the other side of your door not long after breakfast, it served as a great relief to the mind numbing atmosphere.

Not a moment later and you heard the familiar rapping on the wooden frame, before the blond pushed it open and entered.

“How’s my sunshine doin’ this morning? Ya feelin’ any better?” Hizashi was dressed in casual clothing with his hair down. In addition, he appeared to be holding some sort of shopping bag in his right hand.

You watched as he made his way towards the right side of your bed, responding to his worries. “Well, the rest definitely hasn’t gone unnoticed. My head still hurts but they’re giving me some pretty powerful meds for that thankfully.”

You figured he would sit down in the armchair, but instead he opted for settling on the edge of your bed again. “Ya sure you got enough shut eye? I can come back if ya need to snooze a lil’ longer.”

His open compassion for your health was comforting, albeit a little insistent, but it made for a relaxing atmosphere for now.

“I don’t think I could sleep anymore no matter how hard I tried, thanks for the concern though.” You gave a warm smile, sensing that he was almost stressed over your wellbeing, unnecessarily much in your opinion.

The blond brought the bag up to rest on your lap, and vaguely you could make out the contents for a brief second.

“Well, Shou’ and I figured you didn’t have all that much to live off of since being admitted, so I went and grabbed ya some essentials on the way here.” He gestured to the bag, to which you hesitantly reached for.

He continued, “I wasn’t quite sure what my favorite listener needed, so I just bought a lil’ bit of everything.”

You peered into the opening, seeing quite the assortment of toiletries. Picking up the packet of cleansing facial wipes, something you desperately needed, you continued to peruse through the items. Smaller things like high quality travel sized tissue packets and floral scented lotions were settled aimlessly at the bottom.

One thing that did catch your eye was a small stuffed black cat, wearing a white frilly dress. You took the plushie out of the bag for further inspection, also singling it out for just being cute.

“Shou’ picked that out. Sent him some photos from the gift shop downstairs since he’s not a mornin’ person. Thought it’d keep you company until ya get outta here.” You looked up at Hizashi, seeing him smiling warmly at the thought of something so wholesome, and you couldn’t help but do the same.

“It’s adorable, thanks…” For a moment you sat in the feeling of being cared for so well, something that you didn’t have much time to receive given your lifestyle. However, that sentiment was quickly overshadowed by the circumstances you were in, particularly with this man.

Once again, your body became riddled with grief over the fact that they’d spent not only their time, but now their money on you. Not that you didn’t understand that Hizashi was genuinely concerned for you―nobody could miss that. It’s just there was no reason for it as far as you were concerned.

The two had done more than enough as it is, and the overkill only made you feel worse. “...I just―I can’t help but feel bad that you spent so much on me. I’ll pay you back completely, it’s the least I could do for how much you and Shouta have invested in me so far.”

That’s what you said, and you meant it completely. But you knew that the voice hero wouldn’t stand for it, so you could only hold onto a string of hope that he’d at least let you compensate for half of the valuables.

He almost let out an amused laugh at your worry for the state of his finances. “Look, I know ya mean well, baby. But this stuff costed no more than pocket change. After all, can’t have you bein’ neglected in this place after going through all that trouble to get ya here.”

“Can I at least pay back half, just for some peace of mind.” He was more stubborn than you initially thought, just another trait of his you were growing used to.

“Not gonna happen, sunshine! But there is one thing ya can do…”

The blond pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, unlocking it swiftly. He handed it to you, the screen appearing to show a page for new contact information. “Go on and type in those digits of yours. We’re gonna need a way to contact you if some new info pops up about the case from Friday night.”

You glanced at his awaiting expression before silently agreeing, typing in your phone number.

“Also, we gotta work out when that dinner night is happening. Can’t have you runnin’ off on us before then.”

He was right, the only way they were letting you make up for their generosity was oddly by letting them provide you more of the manner. It was your only option, so you settled with the new belongings and finished typing in your contact information.

As if to make sure you didn’t give him the wrong number, Hizashi sent you a quick text of a sun emoticon. You took the opportunity to save his information to your phone.

Just as you did, the screen turned black and wouldn’t come back to life no matter how many times you pressed the power button.

“Outta juice?”

Your eyes darted to Hizashi, who moved to rummage through the bag. He pulled out an object you somehow managed to completely miss: a phone charger.

He began unwrapping the cord from its casing, getting off the bed to find an outlet.

“The police ended up havin’ to go through your bag to file everything as evidence. Shou’ was there when it happened, told me to grab a charger cause you were missing one before I left this morning.”

Just another expensive item you wouldn’t be able to compensate for. It’s like he wants you to feel bad for being so helpless.

“Thanks…I’d be pretty screwed without you I guess.” You didn’t want to keep going on about the regrettable feeling that was all too persisting, seeming as it didn’t matter much anymore.

He handed you the end of the now plugged in charger, letting you hook your phone up to it. “No worries, actually I―”

The same nurse as last night had interrupted his train of thought, making her presence known before entering.

“Good morning Yamada sir, checking up on my patient I see?” She didn’t let him respond,  “Well, I hate to break it to you but I’m going to have to steal her for a while.”

He regarded the nurse with a smile. “‘Course, I’ll talk to you later, songbird.”

The blond gestured some finger guns in your direction as he spoke, walking out of your room.

Regardless of the circumstances, you thought, at least I have someone coming to see me. That’s what I get for throwing myself into work and not making friends I guess.

You let the nurse close the door all the way, silently awaiting the slew of information about to be sent your way.

_____

It would seem at this point the only stimulation outside of examinations was in the form of boring phone games, and your newly acquired, and insistent, hero companions.

One of which was currently posted in the armchair, waiting for you to finish eating dinner before you told him about the exciting day you had. Shouta, reserved as ever, kept on his phone until then.

You finished up as soon as possible, the silence eating away at your psyche due to its growing awkwardness.

“How was your day?” Simple, the only thing you could think of asking, great for breaking the silence.

The erasure hero looked up from the screen immediately. “Good, actually. Still haven’t heard anything from the station.”

Remembering that fateful night wasn’t something you particularly wanted to do, but for now it had to be dealt with. “I doubt much will come of it, not exactly like what was going down wasn’t obvious, so no need for an investigation, right?.”

“Probably...any changes with yourself?”

You knew well enough that like his partner, Shouta seemed genuinely interested in your health. The difference was that his way of conveying this was much more...intimidating.

The look he gave you demanded a response, even if the question was harmless enough.

“Ah―not really I guess. I’m here until tomorrow morning for sure, but that’s about all they’ve said.” You wouldn’t know if he was pleased with the response if you didn’t catch the slight nod he gave.

“Well, it’s not a bad thing. You could certainly use the rest.”

Now that’s something you could agree to, but you’d still rather do so in the comfort of your own bedroom.

“Listen, as much as I want to keep you company, my students are expecting graded essays back tomorrow morning. I’m afraid I can’t stay any longer.”

While you did appreciate his presence as a change of routine for a short while, it was only to an extent. You’d be lying if you said the atmosphere didn’t feel heavy while he was around, even if just a little in times like these.

“That’s no problem, I’d hate to keep you from your work.”

He slowly stood up from the armchair, “Hizashi will probably visit tomorrow morning. He’s got the day off so he’ll likely stick around as much as possible. Just tell him to leave if he’s annoying you.”

You watched as his eyes drifted to the stuffed cat resting on the bedside table next to the bouquet, the sight influencing a tired smile.

“You should try and get to sleep early―oh, one more thing.”

Like his partner had done earlier today, he reached for his phone, handing the unlocked device to you. Having done so already, something he was also aware of, you silently typed in your information.

“Don’t be afraid to send one of us a message if you need anything.”

You returned the phone to him, “Right, thanks for stopping by Shouta.”

As he exited the room, you were left with feelings of confliction over the whole ordeal. It was strange―having someone being concerned about your wellbeing was nice, but something, you couldn’t quite place what, was getting in the way of your gratitude.

The two men were clearly busy people. Hero work, on top of being teachers, would more than suffice as something to occupy most of their time. When it comes to dealing with victims, you’d assume that for the sake of efficiency a hero would just drop you off at the nearest hospital and then be on their way.

And yet, for reasons still incomprehensible, the presence of the strange duo was something you couldn’t shake off. Perhaps it wasn’t intentional, but the reality left a peculiar underlying feeling of...suspicion?

It was too soon to say, and frankly it’d be rude to judge them after they’d been so kind to you. However you’d always been someone who falls on the more overstrung side, and neglecting the situation by simply ignoring it was not something you could do.

_____

It was just as his partner had foretold―the next morning you had once again been graced with the presence of Hizashi.

You noted how he was awfully chipper for being up at 8:20 am on a Monday, but like the couple other odd traits of his, you chose to disregard it.

Especially since this person also came bearing quite the appetizing breakfast.

“The nurse said ya didn’t have to eat the hospital food if someone brought you a meal instead. Thought you’d appreciate somethin’ homemade so I whipped it up before leaving.” This time he was seated in the armchair, likely because there wasn’t enough room on the bed with the table that was positioned over it so you could eat.

The meal consisted of―somehow still warm―scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage, fruit, and a side of blueberry pancakes. All in all, it was delicious, and you didn’t quite think it was something he could just ‘whip up,’ but you’d let that slide. You thanked him profusely for it before regarding just how little you’d been informed of things since coming to the hospital.

“I didn’t even know that was allowed to be honest. They don’t tell me much aside from whether or not my condition has changed.” You tried to talk in between bites, not wanting to let the warmth dissipate by waiting to have a full conversation.

“Funny you say that cause she also told me you’d be cleared to leave by the end of the day. Looks like the hit you took wasn’t too serious.”

Well, you would’ve appreciated being the first to receive this news. Isn’t there like a doctor-patient confidentiality thing to keep others from knowing stuff like that?

Regardless, it was still good news. The hospital room was starting to drive you a bit crazy.

“That’s good to hear, thanks for letting me know.” You quietly continued your meal while Hizashi went on about similar things―cases that were like yours, his opinions of the hospital staff.

If there was anything he was good at it was filling the silence, and you supposed this was where his relationship with Shouta came in handy. Not that his partner didn’t seem to mind talking, it was just he wasn’t the most energetic when he did so, whether he knew that or not.

In general, the two of you quickly realized that there wasn’t much to discuss, given how you’d been holed up in the tiny room for the last few days―it didn’t really allow for the most exciting news.

He asked you about a few work details of your own occupation―how long you’d worked there, if you liked your coworkers―menial stuff mostly. By then you had long finished breakfast, and it would seem that the blond had no intention of leaving, much like his partner warned you of.

So, you listened patiently while he went on about this and that. Sometimes trailing off into hero stories, other times bringing up his work as a teacher.

In general, you had no problem listening to him go on. You’d speak up here and there, but not for long as he’d quickly resume with whatever topic he’d fixated on for the moment.

One would think it’d be annoying, and perhaps this was just a result of some form of exposure therapy that made it bearable, but it was enjoyable hearing him ramble.

Yet, good things only last for so long.

It’s not that you eventually found the endless discussion boring, rather the developing behaviour was due to you still recovering―even just in the slightest―from recent events. You didn’t even notice it, but gradually your eyes were becoming heavy, and the sound of Hizashi’s voice was becoming more and more distant.

Embarrassingly, he was the first to pick up on it.

He was mid sentence when he caught you nodding off. Rather than being offended, the blond actually found it endearing.

Instead of alerting you just yet that he’d taken notice of your behaviour, Hizashi silently stood up out of the chair, walking over to the windows of your room.

Your half-lidded eyes just barely picked up on the movement, vaguely seeing him pull the blinds closed before coming back to your senses.

“Oh god, I didn’t mean to―you weren’t boring me I promise. I just-”

“Relax, songbird. It’s my fault, ya must still be a lil’ done in, no worries.”

Naturally, you felt terrible. He was acting like he didn’t care, anyone would be offended at this point.

It was excruciatingly awkward, and you desperately tried to collect your thoughts. “No, no it really was interesting, you can keep going if―”

“Stop it, sunshine.” He started towards your bed, which you instinctively shrunk into. You always defaulted this way, panicking immediately in the face of little to no danger. But Hizashi wasn’t dangerous, you told yourself. He continued, “I should’ve known you weren’t better yet. Still not sure how but you really managed to wear yourself out, didn’t ya?”

He pushed you back down into bed by your shoulders while he spoke, continuing to pull up the blankets you discarded earlier.

“I’m gonna head out so you can get some more shut eye, yeah?”

“Um...o-okay. Yeah, I guess…” You inwardly cringed at how small your voice sounded, but to be fair it wasn’t like you could exactly help it.

It was confusing, how he acted so indifferent to the unspoken insult that you gave him by nearly falling asleep. Was he acting?

Hizashi moved away, heading towards the door, leaving you somewhat comfortably tucked into the hospital bed.

“Get some rest, ‘kay sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah, thanks.”

You heard the door click shut as he left, the room falling into silence amidst the now dim lighting.

Okay...what the fuck.

Devoid of any distractions in your proximity, the hard thumping in your chest was more than clear. At times like these you didn’t even realize any growing anxiety―not until the ordeal was over and you were left with the aftereffects.

The attention to it was only drawn more when you processed the increased rate of beeping coming from your heart monitor.

The last thing you wanted to do was bother the poor nurse taking care of you. Steeling yourself, you took deep breaths, focusing your attention on calming down. It worked soon enough, leaving no need for medical intervention.

You noted that getting like this always drained you of energy―mentally and physically. Heeding Hizashi’s orders, it was easiest now to try and sleep off the anxiety.

You can think about whatever just happened later, maybe when your not still hospitalized.

_____

You were stirred awake by a gentle hand on your shoulder, lightly shaking your resting form. Eyes fluttering open, you observed the dedicated nurse you’ve seen time and time again leaning slightly over you.

“Miss (l/n), I have an update on your condition.”

That was more than enough to give you motivation to pull yourself from the jaws of sleep. You sat up slowly, although it was your best attempt at doing so quickly.

The nurse continued, “Well, it’s good news. You’ve been cleared for discharge. Your condition has improved considerably, so you can continue the rest of your recovery at home safely.”

You needed to hear no more, immediately looking around to find your bag that had been delivered to you from Friday night. Still, you figured that this deserved a response.

“That’s really great to hear, thank you for taking care of me...also, where are the clothes that I came here in?”

“Oh yes, they’re in your bag.” You watched as she reached underneath your bed―no wonder you couldn’t find the damn thing.

The nurse settled the bag next to you before continuing. “Here you go, miss. I’ve prescribed some pain medication for your head injury. Directions for consumption are on the label...and I believe that’s it.”

You rifled through the bag, retrieving your clothing from the bottom.

“Oh, one last thing actually. Now, this is only a recommendation, but given your health it would be beneficial if you were to remain home for the rest of the week. You can go to work if you’d wish, but it may slow your remaining recovery process.”

“I’ll have to think about that one, but thank you for letting me know.”

She turned off the heart monitor before removing the clip on your finger. The IV had been removed yesterday, so there was no need for attention in that department.

“Perfect, you can get dressed and gather your belongings. Please speak to the receptionist at the end of the hall―right before the elevator―so you can pick up the prescription before you leave.”

“Sounds good.” You offered a warm smile to her, and she politely excused herself from the room.

You got changed, clothing appearing to have been washed at some point while you were asleep. Somehow you managed to pile all the things Hizashi brought you the morning before into your backpack, and you threw the shopping bag into the garbage.

It was nice to finally stretch your legs for longer than a few minutes to use the washroom, although your muscles did feel somewhat weaker now.

Slipping on your jacket and bag, you exited the room, closing the door behind you. The receptionist’s desk had been exactly where the nurse said it would be, and you handed over your information to the man behind the counter. He left for a moment before returning with a paper, your prescription printed on it with an illegible doctor’s signature. You thanked the man before heading to the elevator and stepping in.

Nothing was more enticing at this point than returning to the comfort of your own home. The thought of your bed waiting for you was enough to have you drooling, being so done with the unfamiliar setting of the hospital.

The elevator chimed, signalling it had reached its destination of the ground floor. The doors slid open and you stepped out, heading straight for the front entrance.

At least you were, until you collided into some poor unsuspecting human standing in your path.

How many times are you going to embarrass yourself before the day is up?

The person had caught you by the shoulders, stabling the both of you. You were quietly trying to apologize while, painfully so, you lifted your head to assess the damage.

You weren’t sure to be thankful or not, but you were met with a familiar gaze.

“You really shouldn't keep your head down like that all the time. Are you okay?”

Shouta looked down at you with a stern yet concerned look. He didn’t exactly back away, rather he continued his hold on your shoulders as if you were going to fall over any second. Hizashi also stood close by his side, and therefore close to you.

The sudden proximity had your head spinning, blood quickly rushing to your face.

“Ah―yeah. I’m fine.” Your response was pitifully sputtered out, and gently you moved back, out of his grasp.

“You headin’ out? Shou’ and I were just comin’ to check up on ya.”

The blond regarded his partner, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll drive you home, have you eaten yet?” The erasure hero didn’t seem to be asking permission over the matter, but you still forced yourself to give them your take on it.

“You don’t have to do that, I was just about to call a cab. And I have stuff at home for dinner, so I honestly can’t impose on you two anymore.”

“Aw, but we're already here sunshine. It’s no problem, c’mon.” The blond flashed a warm smile before moving to place a hand just beneath the nape of your neck, guiding you to the front entrance alongside his partner.

You were beginning to grow frustrated with the way the two acted, disregarding your wishes so casually. Sure, they weren’t doing anything inherently wrong―just helping a poor civilian get home―but that wasn’t what irked you.

They were too insistent, and it was making you uncomfortable. Clearly they either didn’t notice, or simply didn’t care.

Heroes or not, you couldn’t just let them do whatever they want.

But...would they be offended if you got mad? They’re just trying to help, so what’s the big deal? It’s not like you would have to deal with it much longer, surely you could put up with a bit more of their pushiness.

...Just endure it a little more, you’ve already done enough damage anyways.

It was growing dark out, the sun having just set over the horizon. The crisp air hit you hard as the automatic doors slid open, being equally refreshing and shocking to your system.

An involuntary shiver wracked your body, and you felt Hizashi’s hand slip to your shoulder, gently pulling you closer to him.

It made your stomach churn ever so slightly, but you pushed the feeling down.

Shouta walked in front of you two, presumably leading you to their car in the parking lot. Approaching it, you weren’t surprised to see the expensive looking exterior, and were even less surprised to find an equally luxurious interior as the erasure hero opened the backseat door for you.

You offered a quiet ‘thanks’, removing your backpack and slipping in. The door shut with a heavy thud, and you waited for the two men to enter the vehicle while putting on your seatbelt. It smelled of pine inside, likely due to an air freshener somewhere that you couldn’t see.

They stepped inside, immediately turning on the heat. Shouta was given the responsibility of driving tonight.

“We can grab you something to eat on the way home, I know a couple good joints around your area.” Hizashi seemed quite invested on the topic of good food, but you had to turn him down at least once today.

“Oh, no thank you. I’ve actually got a frozen dinner that I made last week that I was gonna heat up.” You felt the car start to move, grateful to be getting home faster than you would’ve by cab.

For the first time in a while, the blond actually acknowledged and accepted your opinion. “Alright then. Hey, did the nurse lady have anything new to say ‘bout the whole passing out thing?”

“Surprisingly not, guess it wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

Yeah, because they didn’t know why you were so tired, or how getting the crap scared out of you was the final driving force that night.

“That’s good to hear. I take it you’ll be staying home for the rest of the week to rest?”

Once again, you noted the tone in Shouta’s voice that was a little off-putting. He was asking a question, one that you had the freedom to answer however you see fit. But the lowness, sounding like a warning rather than a simple inquiry about your future actions was all too present.

It made you nervous.

“Well...I’m definitely going to take Tuesday and Wednesday off. But I’m already feeling good so I won’t bother to cancel for the rest of the week after that.”

You could only anticipate the disagreement in silence. And disagree they did.

“I’m not too sure that’s a good idea, sunshine. You went through a lot, its best ya hold off for a while.” You could hear the passionate concern in Hizashi’s voice, but it did little to deter you.

You briefly glanced outside, thankful that your apartment wasn’t too far from the hospital. “Maybe, but the end of the week is always really busy, and I usually handle evening shifts anyways. It wouldn't really be fair on my coworkers to bail for that long.”

Without skipping a beat, Shouta replied. “It’s not fair on yourself to put unnecessary strain on your body.”

Well, he’s not wrong, but that’s not the point.

“I can handle it just fine, besides it’s still a few da―”

“‘Zashi told me you fell asleep while he was there today. That doesn’t sound like handling it to me.”

Confrontation had never been your strong suit, even less so when it was directed at you. His words made you want to disappear into thin air, or have the backseat swallow you whole―anything would do at this point. You felt the shame from earlier today resurfacing, despite the internal fight you put up to contain it.

You were a little over halfway home.

“I was just a bit tired. Nothing a nap c-couldn’t solve.”

This time the blonde spoke up. “We’re just thinking ‘bout what’s best for you right now. And with the way things have been...maybe working so soon ain’t the greatest idea.”

The atmosphere was weighing down on you, thick with tension likely only you could feel. “The nurse said that it was okay to work if I wanted, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Is that all she said?” Your eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror, Shouta’s hard gaze meeting yours for a moment before you shied away.

God, this man is relentless.

You could lie, it might make this easier. But something told you that they would know if you did. They were pro heroes after all―didn’t they train to detect stuff like that?

“She said working might slow the recovery process, but I think two more days is more than enough time to get better.”

The two men exchanged looks mixed with annoyance and doubt, which you would’ve seen if you hadn’t had your head down, incessantly picking at your nails to distract from the bubbling anxiety you felt.

“Songbird, if the nurse said to stay home then you should listen to her. Going back to work ain’t gonna do ya any good.”

What could you say to prevent this from getting worse?

“She recommended staying home, I don’t have to listen to her.”

“Even though you should?” There was that tone again.

There was a silence in the car that felt like it lasted for an eternity. Clearly both of them were thinking the same thing, Shouta was just more insistent over it, much more insistent.

“What I should do is take responsibility as an employee. I’ll be okay by the time I have to go back.” Somehow you managed a response, despite feeling yourself physically shrinking back into the seat with every passing second.

Judging the surroundings, you were about one minute away from your apartment. One minute away from freedom.

You heard the blond sigh, “We know you wanna work, just promise you’ll think about staying home this week, give us some peace of mind?”

If that’s what will get them to stop hounding you over the matter, then whatever.

“Okay, I’ll think about it.”

The car pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex. You would’ve jumped out at full speed and ran into the building to escape the tension at this point. But that would be rude, and you didn’t want to look like a lunatic. And even if you didn’t care about that, the car doors were locked.

“We better not have to bring your unconscious body to the hospital again, especially if it happens because you thought going back to work was a good idea. If you think we’re worried about you now...well, this would be nothing compared to what would happen if you pass out again. Understand?” Shouta glared at you in the rearview mirror as he spoke, creating more than a lasting impression of his warnings.

You swallowed dryly, “Of course, thanks for the ride.”

Another moment of silence, then the click of the car doors unlocking sounded.

You opened the door, grabbing your bag while stepping out, trying not to trip over yourself in the rushed panic you were in.

Rounding the vehicle, you started towards the entrance to the complex.

“We’ll catch ya later, sweetheart!” Hizashi’s voice boomed after you, having the car window rolled down.

Out of courtesy, you turned back around, giving a small wave and a smile before stepping through the doors.

In a haze, you shuffled back to your apartment, pulling the keys out of your jacket pocket. You locked the door as soon as you stepped inside, chucking your bag on the floor in the entryway.

You didn’t even bother to heat up dinner, knowing the nauseating feeling in your stomach wouldn’t allow for sustenance at this time. Instead you showered, taking the time to massage your scalp in an attempt to relax.

Sliding into your pyjamas, you found that eating still wasn’t an option, but drinking likely was.

Not alcohol, but herbal tea―it always seemed to do the trick.

The exhaustion set in quickly after you’d gotten only halfway through the cup, so you retreated to the comfort of your bed. You knew the feeling was a mixture of coming down from a stress induced high, the tea, and your still recovering system.

It served as plenty of foundation to knock you out the second your head hit the pillow. This time, you welcomed the inevitable unconsciousness with open arms.

End of Part 3

_____

taglist: @tjhonoluluprezstitch626 @shinsous-eye-bags @roseloverofpastels

[yoonjinkooked]

CHEMISTRY | Run (2)

PART 2 - RUN

SERIES MASTERLIST

DRABBLE SERIES, TONS OF SHORT LITTLE CHAPTERS. WILL BE UPDATED OFTEN CAUSE HOSEOK IS THE #1 SOURCE OF MY PAIN

Pairing: Hoseok / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: FWB, university AU

Warnings: cursing, avoiding emotions and responsibility, future smut, Hoseok just makes a cameo in this one

Word count for this part: 2K

Summary: After a few years of being immune to Jung Hoseok’s charms, you suddenly fall into them, head first. All it takes is one night, too much alcohol and a lot of balls.

“Rise and shine, you drunk idiot,” are the words with which Seokjin greets you. The massive headache that you are suffering makes his voice sound 20 times louder than it really is, which is not your favorite way of starting hangover Sundays. Despite knowing that he won’t be deterred from waking you up, you still keep your eyes closed, hoping that today is a day of miracles and Seokjin decides to give you a break. He doesn’t - instead he grabs a hold of the ankle of your left foot and starts shaking it left to right, trying to shake you awake. “Come on, you’ve been out the whole day, I was scared you were dead. Get your ass up, take an aspirin and be an adult.”

“That sounds like a plan,” your voice is worn out, a tell-tale sign that you had spent last night yelling into someone’s ear. “God, why did you let me drink this much? You should have forced water down my throat,” you grunt as you struggle to get yourself into a seated position - you don’t fall back and the room is not spinning. So far, so good. 

“Oh, I was planning on doing that,” Seokjin grins down at you, not looking the least bit hungover - genes, he’d tell you with a proud look on his face. “But by the time I returned from the kitchen, you already had Hoseok’s tongue down your throat.”

And then, you remember. Boy oh boy, do you remember. Seokjin laughs at you, amused by your expression as realization sets in. You’ve hooked up with Hoseok. You’ve made out with Hoseok. And you did, in fact, sit on his dick, just like you’ve wanted to. Luckily for you, you were both fully clothed. Seriously, lucky you - if you remember anything in detail, it’s that you weren’t alone. 

“Everyone saw us last night, didn’t they?” you ask, sighing when Seokjin nods immediately. 

“Everyone. I mean, you were hardly being shy about it, jumping his bones in the middle of the living room,” Seokjin reminds you how straightforward, perhaps even pushy, you were with Hoseok. Both before and after the kissing had started. “For what it’s worth, he wasn’t complaining.”

“I have no idea what had gotten into me,” you admit, trying to recall when, if ever, you’ve thought of Hoseok as more than a friend. And you did not - he was always a friend, that good looking friend that you wouldn’t even consider as a possible hook up option. Your brain had short-circuited last night, and although surprising, it isn’t completely unfounded. 

“Well, Hoseok did not, I can assure you,” Seokjin is laughing his ass, his expression softening a bit when he notices just how uncomfortable you are with his teasing. “Come on Y/N, don’t overthink this. You’re both single and hot. You were horny and he was stoned and happy to help. Making out with him once won’t change your friendship, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

“Yeah, in theory,” you mumble, knowing already that the next time you see Hoseok, you will feel very awkward. Maybe he won’t and that saves the day? It’s a possibility, but you’re not almighty and situations like these tend to turn you into an awkward mess of a person. 

“You’ve made out with Jimin before and you’re still close,” Seokjin shrugs. 

“Yeah, but that’s different. That’s Jimin. We did it jokingly, more than anything else,” you shake your head, knowing, remembering  that whatever last night was, it was different. “I have no clue what happened. One second he was there, dancing, minding his own business and the next I just… had this strong urge to kiss him.”

“Well, at least you’re a go-getter,” Seokjin laughs at your glare, still refusing to accept this as a possible issue in the making. “Come on, I didn’t walk all the way to your place for therapy hour. You’re nursing a hangover and we need coffee. When you have enough caffeine in your system, you’ll remember that Hobi is the chillest guy on the planet and that your worries are completely baseless. It can be awkward for a week or two but you’re both grown adults, right?”

“Right,” you agree, choosing to hold onto that thought. You’re not kids or horny teens - it’ll be okay. A few inside jokes, a couple of days of awkwardness and a lifetime of teasing from your mutual friends - nothing you can’t handle. No harm, no foul. It’ll all be hilarious in a week or two. 

“You’re acting weird,” Jungkook’s statement makes you freeze, the breakfast burrito in your hands inches away from your mouth. After years of being friends with him, it shouldn’t be a surprise when Jungkook says the most random things at the most random times, but somehow, it still is. 

“No, I’m not,” you deny. 

“You are,” Jungkook nods, as if he is confirming it with himself. “You’re all jumpy. If I didn’t know you any better, I’d think you’re on the run from the law,” he laughs at his own joke, before suddenly stopping to fix you with a suspicious look. “You’re not on the run, right?” 

“No Jungkook, I’m not hiding from the cops. I’m not even halfway through my first coffee.”

“She’s just hiding from Hobi.”

You glare at Namjoon from across the table. First of all, his assumption is rude. Second of all, it is absolutely correct. Well, you weren’t exactly actively avoiding Hoseok, but you also weren’t volunteering to spend time at places where you knew he’d be. Instead, you have spent the past few days occupying yourself with random and not so random tasks and obligations, all while trying not to think about how he’s a good kisser. Or how good he smells. Or how firmly his hands gripped your waist that night. Nope. Not going to think about it. 

“Why would she hide from Hobi?” Jungkook is confused. 

“I’m not hiding from Hobi,” you tell him, before turning to give Namjoon a pointed look. “I’m not hiding from Hobi,” you repeat in a warning tone - it’s clear that you don’t want to talk about it. 

“Perfect,” Namjoon offers you an angelic smile. “Then you won’t have a problem with him joining us? I mean, he’s already walking our way,” he adds, looking over your shoulder. 

Your knee jerk reaction is very literal - a sudden movement leads to a loud bang, a whine and you clutching onto your right knee that you’ve just hit against the table in a lame attempt of making a run for it. Panicked, you turn around to check if Hoseok had seen this, only to realize that he is nowhere to be seen. The shit eating grin on Namjoon’s face when you look back at him is confirmation enough. “I hate you,” you deadpan as he keeps on laughing at you. 

“Why are you like this,” Jungkook asks you as you rub your knee, still very much in pain. “Is it because you made out last weekend?” he interrogates you before chugging on his yogurt. 

“Maybe,” you reluctantly admit, since you were so obvious there was no use in denying it. “I know it doesn’t make much sense but it’s just… weird.” 

“You’re being overdramatic, as usual,” Namjoon chuckles. In moments like these, you wonder why you’re still friends with the guy. Sure, he can be charming, nice and helpful, but he can also be a smartass and act all high and mighty, just like he is doing now. “Not that you would know, since you’re hiding from the guy, but Hoseok is not avoiding you. The situation isn’t weird - you are.” 

“If I wanted therapy, I’d pay for a professional,” you snap. 

“I’m on Y/N’s side here,” Jungkook pauses to swallow his food before continuing. “We can tease and joke, we always do that but we shouldn’t invalidate her feelings. If she is feeling awkward, she has every right to feel that way. Don’t invalidate her feelings, Joon,” he ends his speech with a little worried pout, making himself look at least 5 years younger. 

“Have you been watching Dr. Phil again?” Namjoon asks him. 

“Hey!” you jump in Jungkook’s defense immediately. “Don’t be an ass - he has a point and he is being nice. I didn’t ask for your opinion, which you generously offered anyways. Hoseok’s feelings about this have no affect on me - I’m feeling awkward and I’d rather push said awkwardness under the rug for the time being.” 

“Unlike Mr. Smarty Pants Architect who actually does watch Dr. Phil, I’m the only psych major sitting at this table,” Jungkook starts and you laugh at the not so subtle drag directed at Joon. “It’s my duty as your friend and a future therapist to say that the tactic you’re turning to is not healthy and will likely cause more trouble. But,” he emphasizes, noticing that you have already opened your mouth to complain. “It’s your choice. You know what you’re doing and why you’re doing it.”

“Oh, so you’re saying that her acting like the two of them have divorced after 20 years of marriage instead of… exchanging saliva is valid?”

“Stop!” you glare at Namjoon. “You’ve heard Jungkook – my feelings are valid.”

“You’re a coward and you know it,” Namjoon laughs at you. He’s not completely wrong – you are a coward, but you also have your reasons. “You were making out – it’s not the end of the world.” 

“Yes, but it’s not a random dude we’re talking about here!  It’s... Hoseok!” you whisper his name, as if someone other than the two of them could actually hear you say his name in the crowded and incredibly noisy university cafeteria. 

“All the more,” Joon widens his arms in exasperation. “Hobi is not an ass. He’s not going to make it worse, he’ll probably laugh about it, but seeing as you’ve been playing hide and seek, you won’t have a chance to. The longer you wait, the harder it will be once you can no longer avoid him. And honestly, the time is around the corner because I have no idea how you plan on skipping Yoongi’s birthday party.”

As if you needed a reminder of that. There is no way in hell that you can make up an excuse big enough to avoid going to Yoongi’s party - a family emergency wouldn’t work, not when this is your closest group of friends. You’ll have to be there, Hoseok will absolutely be there and you have three whole days to get your shit together. 

“I’ll do my shit at my own time,” you conclude proudly, knowing that you will figure it out and it won’t be because of Namjoon’s impromptu intervention. 

“Um… Y/N,” Jungkook lets out a nervous laughter. “I’m not so sure about that. Hobi’s walking towards us, right now.”

“I’m not falling for that again,” you wave your hand in dismissal, the pain that you are still feeling in your right knee reminding you of Joon’s failed attempts to trick you. 

“He’s really not lying,” Namjoon sips on his coffee sassily, the slurping sound coming from his straw making you want to throw something at him. But there’s something about the cocky look on his face that makes you realize that he’s not joking this time. Not to mention that Jungkook, unlike Joon, is an actual sweetheart of a person who would not lie to you just to spite you. Gulping, you decide to risk and check. 

And sure enough, as you turn around you can see Hoseok just a few tables away, smiling at the three of you – ripped jeans, white shirt, green snapback and that stupid, blinding smile. For a second, only for a second, your eyes meet and before either one of you can make a face or react in any way, you are standing up and this time around, your knees are safe. 

“I have to go,” you grab your bag and phone and speed walk before anyone can tell you anything. You can hear Jungkook yell after you, but you’re already a few tables away from them, walking towards safety as fast as you can. 

Was it stupid? Yeah, probably. Was it obvious? Painfully. But fight or flight kicked in and up up and away you went. 

[bad-bitch-beauchamp]

Songs About Me - Chapter Two

Chapter two is up!!! I started writing this all last night, and didn’t want to leave that chapter handing! I have the outline for this story all done and I’m actually pretty psyched about how it’s lining up. I want to take a minute to thank you all for all the kinds words and support yesterday, you’re the best and know how to make a girl feel welcome! Without further ado... Chapter two!

Read on AO3

Later that night, Beacon Hill, Boston, 21st Amendment Pub

“Claire! Over here!” Geillis was sitting at a high top table and stood up on the crossbar of the barstool to wave her over. As she stood up tall with an arm waving over her head, Claire noticed the two men sitting with her glance at her exposed midriff. One oggled her openly, while one looked appreciatively, and smiled down into his beer glass as he took a long drink. This must be Angus and Rupert, then. Claire smiled and wound through the crowd to the table. 

“Awright lads, this is my best girl Claire!” Geillis had clearly been here before her eight o’clock sharp deadline, judging by the way her Scots accent had thickened up. 

“Nice to meet you boys! Let me grab a drink and we can get to know each other!” Claire wove her way to the bar, ordered a few fingers of Laphroig whisky, and made her way back to the table. The 21st Amendment was the perfect watering hole for locals looking to enjoy a few bar snacks, and a lot of drinks. It had started to become a staple for their end-of-week blow offs between her and Geillis after a long week at the greenhouse. When he wasn’t stuck at the hospital, Joe often came out to join them, and tonight he had arrived in her absence and took her under his shoulder.

“I need to see you more than once a week! And now you’ve made it so I can only see you if I come to a karaoke bar?! What kind of joke is this, LJ?” 

“Blame our favorite redhead for this ingenious evening!” Claire jerked her head in Geillis direction. They laughed and hugged each other tight, and began to settle in for the evening. 

Aided by more than a few drinks, the four soon became fast friends. Claire came back from the bar for the third time to see Joe clearly entranced by the three Scots and their innate ability to make any story the best you’ve ever heard. 

“So there I am in bed, Chrissie on my left and Nettie, the butcher’s daughter, on the right. They get jealous of each other, start arguin’ about who I’m gonna swive first. Can ye believe it?” Rupert laughed through his oncoming hiccups; whether they was the result of the raucous laughter or the many pints of ale was anyone’s guess. 

“And then what happened, man?!” Joe leaned forward over the table toward Angus, and Angus leaned in towards Joe, slapping his hands on the table. Rupert opened his mouth to respond but before he could get out a single word, Claire quipped in. 

“I believe your left hand gets jealous of your right. That’s about all I believe!” 

For as loud as the pub had become, the little table surrounded with friends fell into an uncertain silence. Claire wondered if she could fit her other foot in her mouth, in addition to the one that was already there. Then… uproarious laughter. 

“I’ve… I’ve never heard a woman make a joke like that before!” Ruper was cackling now. “Christ, woman! Yer somethin’ else!” Angus was doubled over clutching his side, Joe choked on his drink, and Geillis was practically dissolving into laughter. Another voice, a different voice, came floating to her ear from behind on a warm whisper. 

“Yer a witty one, aye?” 

Claire spun around in her barstool, which was admittedly a mistake. Maybe one too many whiskeys, Beauchamp. She started to slide off the side backless chair when two hands steadied her by the waist. Once she -- and the room -- stopped spinning and came into focus, all she could see was ocean blue eyes. If her eyes were the color of her favorite burning whisky, his were the color of a cooling chaser. 

“Ye alright, lass?” The stranger smirked. She realized she was still holding on to his shoulders, and still staring into his eyes. She felt the muscles under his white v-neck shirt. His very tight shirt, she amended. His hair sparkled with all the same colors as the dark red trees lining the old brick streets outside -- shades of russet and gold, dark auburn and cinnabar. High cheekbones gave way to slanted eyes above and a jawline to cut her glass tumbler below.  Pull yourself together. He’s just a man, and one you don’t even know! 

“Oh, yeah, thanks, I’m fine, thank you,” she stammered as she climbed back on her chair, his hands never wavering from her hips. Why did she sound so formal? “I mean, I’m great!” She flashed him a big smile and then a thumbs-up. What the fuck is your problem?! Maybe find a middle ground? She sighed on a giggle as her eyes fell to the floor and looked up at him with crinkling eyes. “I’m -- ugh. Hi there, I’m Claire.” His smirk grew, his eyebrow rose. “Thanks for making sure I didn’t die just then,” she added hastily. He was watching her when she dared to glance up from under her lashes. 

The stranger waited until she was settled back on the barstool and went to extend his hand for a handshake, only to find his hands were otherwise occupied. He left them where they were, and settled in a little deeper. 

“Och, it’d be a right shame to lose ye to a swivelin’ stool and a dirty pub floor.” The smirk turned into an honest smile. “I’m James. Ye can call me Jamie, if ye like.” He glanced at his hands, one still on her hip and the other traveling up to her waist. Claire felt his thumb stroke her sides and glanced down to watch him unravel her with his touch. Who the hell was this guy? Ordinarily, she’d be offended by some guy holding onto her in a bar, but right now, she found herself hoping this one didn’t let go. She was still watching him trace his small circle on her waist when the hand on her hip reluctantly pulled away, while the one on her waist didn’t move at all. She glanced up to see a pink bloom appear in the tips of his ears and the triangle of chest visible through the dip in his shirt. It was her turn to smirk.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Sassenach. Got a wee bit distracted.” He shoved his free hand in the pockets of his worn jeans. 

“Sassenach--?” Suddenly she was cut off, by a loud voice behind them. 

“Jamie! Ye made it!” Jamie’s large hand pulled away from Claire’s side with a jolt and the absence made her shiver. Rupert and Angus were already making the introductions to their small table. The hellos and drink orders began and conversation between the group began again. Her head was dizzy, but not from the alcohol. She glanced up to see him eyeing her from over the top of his rocks glass, and her stomach flipped. Pull yourself together. Concentrating on the situation, she gathered that Jamie worked with Angus and Rupert at a small shop in the area, but missed the kind of work they did. 

With the addition of Jamie at their table, Geillis suggested they move to one of the booths lining the bar walls. The men blazed a trail forward through the crowd to secure seats, and Claire held Geillis back by the elbow. 

“I thought you said you only invited Rupert and Angus out tonight?” “I did! They asked if they could invite the third member o’ their party, and who am I to say no! Why, is something wrong?” 

Evidently no one else had seen her near fall, and Jamie’s rescue of her. “No, it’s fine, I just didn’t realize we’d have such a big group is all.” Geillis started to ask her another question but Claire nudged her friend forward. “Come on, they won’t hold seats for us forever!” 

Claire was the last to get to the table. Her step faltered for only a moment -- when the only open spot was next to Jamie. 

“I can move, if ye’d be more comfortable --”

“Do you mind if I sit here --?”

They spoke over each other quickly, and simply nodded in answer to each other’s questions. Jamie move down the bench as much as he could with Angus animatedly telling a story on the other side, and Claire filled in the vacant spot on the open end of the booth. It should have been awkward, being strangers forced into tight quarters… but she could’ve sworn he relaxed into side. 

Not a minute into settling down, the DJ at the front of the bar announced, “Next up we Claire, Geillis, and Joe!” 

Momentarily forgetting why they came here, the three friends jumped up from their seats and headed to the makeshift stage with two spotlights, a few microphones, and a small television screen. The men left at the booth watched them with confusion and excitement as they made their way up to the front, and ready for the show from their newfound friends. 

Claire, Geillis, and Joe each took a microphone and began to sing -- if one could really call it that. By the end of Like A Prayer, they were yelling the lyrics, howling with laughter, falling over each other with every repetition of “Just like a prayer, you know I’ll take you there!” The pub clapped and cheered, as a drunk bar on karaoke night often does, and the three friends made their way back to the booth still trying to get enough air back in their lungs after the ceaseless laughter. 

“I didna know ye could sing!” Rupert hugged Geillis into his side and Angus leaned over the tabletop to playfully punch Joe in the shoulder. 

“I think he means that we didna know ye were the type who can’t sing, but still goes to karaoke anyway!” Angus winked at Geillis, and she couldn’t seem to get her giggles under control. 

“Hey now! Joe and I might not be stars or anything, but at least we’re fun -- unlike ye three, who haven’t gone up once!” Taking a gulp from her pint glass, she narrowed in on Claire. “Besides, we sound okay because someone can actually sing when she wants.” The table’s attention immediately moved to Claire with a bombardment of questions. 

“Ye can sing, lass?!”

“Go on, get up there and sing for me! Make it a bonny one!”

“Are ye a pop singer or a rock singer? I’ll have a different opinion of ye depending on the answer, ken?”

Then, another warm whisper. A hand on her knee.  

“Ye don’t strike me as a singer, Sasssenach.” 

Claire turned to face him then, her voice equally quiet when his eyes met hers. “And what do I strike you as?”

“A lass who struggles with her balance, for one,” he replied, “and who’s bad with awkward introductions and saying thank you, for two.” His eyes never left hers, but the crinkles on the edges only deepened with his smirk. Claire scoffed and protested, moving her leg away from his under the table, but his grasp tightened imperceptibly and his thumb was stroking the inside of her knee. “Maybe one day I won’t have to save ye from falling, and I’ll get to hear ye sing a little better than what I just saw.” Taking a swig from his glass, he continued to watch her. Claire started to object to his ideas of her, but Jamie’s attention was called away by Joe asking questions about his work. 

An hour passed by with many more drinks and much more laughter, with plans to meet up again next week. Joe left the party first to get back to his apartment to prepare for work the next day, followed by Rupert who claimed he needed to be up early to go into the shop. Soon it was just Angus and Geillis, who were most definitely going home together, and Claire and Jamie, who were most definitely not. 

“So what is it you actually do? I’ve been sitting next to you for a few hours now without a single notion of who you are besides your name.” They were sitting facing each other as best they could, trading stories and getting to know one another while Geillis and Angus got almost too close for decency. 

“Och, it’s no’ much. I opened a little bookstore in the area a few years back, and Angus and Rupert are my employees. More than that, I suppose, since I’ve known them my whole life. The bookstore was more a passion project a few years back, ken? Then one day, I decided I loved it more than engineering and left it all behind to give my all to the books.” Jamie’s eyes sparkled with mention of the bookstore, and Claire wanted to see him look like that forever. 

“What kind of stock do you have?” 

Jamie’s eyes positively twinkled. “Lots of antiques and first editions. I learned how to repair and restore old books when I was in college in Edinburgh. We carry the Times best seller list and lots of newer titles as well, but there’s nothing I love like an old book.” He smiled at her, and she melted. “Actually, there’s a favorite of mine--”

“Claire, get on up here!” The voice from the front boomed again, and she sent Jamie a wink as she scooted out of the booth. He stared at her dumbstruck, but released his hold on her leg. 

“Since you said my last song was horrible,” she teased over her shoulder as she walked to the front. 

He gave a hearty laugh and yelled to her, “I never said it was horrible! I said it wasn’t good!”

Claire had been coming to this pub for years now with Geillis and Joe for drinks and karaoke night. She was on a first-name basis with the regular DJs, and everyone knew her regular songs. Tonight was different. Tonight, she had met Jamie. She whispered to the DJ, walked on stage, and pulled out the piano bench. In the time it had taken Claire to move up front, Jamie followed suit just behind her to a table at the front. He had noticed the piano of course, but paid it no attention. Who would play a piano in a pub on karaoke night?

Claire would, evidently. She sat down, rolled her head a few times along her shoulders, and looked toward their booth. Jamie saw her fear when he wasn’t where she thought he’d be. He gave her a small wave, hoping the motion would draw her attention. She noticed, and flashed him the most brilliant smile he’d ever seen. She took a deep breath, and without playing, began to sing. 

“Grab me by my ankles, I’ve been flying for too long; I couldn’t hide from the thunder in a sky full of song. I want you so badly but you could be anyone; I couldn't hide from the thunder in a sky full of song. Hold me down, I’m so tired now; Aim your arrow at the sky. Take me down, I’m too tired now, leave me where I lie.”

The accompaniment was simple and melodic, Claire’s voice strong and dark. Jamie watched her play, the lyrics not lost on him. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t do anything but watch her. His chin rested on his hand, his elbow propped on the table. In that moment, he wished the night would never end but if it had to, then may he have many more with the enchanting woman before him. 

Jamie didn’t realize she had stopped playing until the crowd began to cheer -- the only thing to exist for him, was her. She stood, pushed in the bench, and put the microphone stand back where it belonged like she had just done the most normal thing in the world. She walked toward him, slowing the closer she got to him. 

“Jamie, you haven’t moved once.” One step closer. “Well, you’d bloody well say something.” She folded her hands across her chest with a sigh, eyes downcast at the sticky floor. 

He blinked, stood, and brought a hand up to brush away a particularly unruly curl. A thumb caressed rosy apples, dark eyelids fluttered up to meet glittering oceans. 

“Christ, Claire. Yer the most incredible woman I’ve ever seen.”