#I laid on the floor and laughed at my luck for like ten minutes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

craftycheetah · 3 years ago

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Vigil

A/n: Another collab with my tumblr bestie @endeavours-jockstrap.

Tags:pro hero AU, rivals with benefits, bdsm

CW: male masturbation, sexual fantasies, Dom/Sub dynamics, bondage,face slapping, pussy spanking, hate sex(kind of, can be seen as dub-con its really not tho), cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, aftercare, pet names(bunny), choking, aftercare

WC: 8.9k

Taglist: @shibuyawardnetwork @hanayanetwork @planetonet @http-404-error-unknown

Shinsou wants to either die or sleep. Whichever comes first.

He trudges into his apartment just at the break of Dawn after the longest night patrol ever—seriously, fuck this shit.

He drops his duffel bag, takes off his shirt, and collapses onto the couch for those precious three hours a night of sleep.

It feels like he only just fell asleep when he hears his phone beep. He feels his fucking eyeballs clench when he fishes the phone out of his pocket and squints at the name.

“Fuck” he answers it, “Hello?”

‘Briefing in thirty minutes,’ Aizawa says plainly, then hangs up.

Shinsou has a mini tantrum and flails so hard that he falls onto the hardwood floor. But he has to get up eventually and go to this stupid meeting.

“Morning Shinsou,” a sidekick greets

“Don’t perceive me,” Shinsou growls, gripping his patent black and purple MindJack™️ thermos so hard he’s sure it’s cracked.

He marches right up to the elevator, punches the top floor button a few times out of frustration, and chugs his black coffee.

The briefing has already started, so he just slinks into the seat next to some random young hero and watches the slideshow.

“What’d I miss?” He whispers to the guy

“Just something quick, some villains and vigilantes we’ve got to keep an eye out for.”

Shinsou nods half listening and already falling asleep with his head in his hand.

Aizawa presses the remote again, and the following figure comes into view. Some cute chick with long braids and a mildly annoyed expression standing on top of a big building with a silver baseball bat.

‘She’s cute. I’d hit that,’ Shinsou thinks.

He doesn’t realize everyone is looking at him weird

“What did you just say?” Aizawa cocks a brow

Wait, did he say that out loud?

The guy next to him is trying so hard to hold in his laugh

“Uhhhh, I thought we were playing smash or pass,” Shinsou laughs nervously

Aizawa just shakes his head and mutters a quiet ��idiot’ before turning back to the presentation

Shinsou buries his face in his hands, “I’m so tired.”

The guy next to him leans over, “Not gonna lie, I’d hit that too.”

“Please leave me alone.”

Aizawa keeps him behind after the briefing, slapping the folder on the table.

“So….smash or pass?”

Shinsou resists flipping him off, “Look, I’m exhausted because someone didn’t let me sleep after an all-nighter.”

“That’s crazy, anyway, since you’re so keen on hitting her, you’re assigned to bring her in. She usually operates downtown. Good luck”

“What’s her quirk?” Shinsou asks while looking through the folder.

“We’re not sure yet. But she’s skilled in hand to hand so be careful.”

“How hard could it be?”

And now here he is, sitting on top of some cafe with a warm coffee in his hand and his voice modulation mask around his neck.

“Fuck I need a nap,” he groans before sipping the coffee, “Needs more sugar.” He says, even though there’re already ten packets in there.

It’s a slow Saturday. He’s watching people down below go about their day. He’s even caught a few walks of shame.

“Must be fucking nice,” he mumbles when he sees one girl holding up her sparkly dress with one arm and her shoes under the other. She had a good night.

He hasn’t been laid in over a year, and it’s starting to get to him.

Stupid hero work.

The sound of police sirens tore him away from his coffee as police cars raced towards a bank maybe two blocks from him. Yet, nobody besides him noticed a figure jumping from rooftop to rooftop away from the scene.

Using his capture weapon, he swung from his spot above the cafe after the hooded figure. Landing on the rooftop they just leaped on, Hitoshi shot his capture weapon at the thief. “Stop!” he growls, wishing to get this over with so he could go get some sleep.

Staring at the villain, he noticed them wave their hands as the weapon missed them completely and fell to the floor, not responding to Hitoshi's movements. What the hell?!

“So this is the hero supposed to catch me? Guess robbing a bank does draw attention.”

“Save it for jail, Villain.”

“How can you catch me without any handcuffs or a weapon, ‘hero’?”

Turning around, you grin wickedly as Hitoshi recognizes you from the debriefing.

“Catch you around,” you snicker before jumping off the roof.

“Wait!” he shouts, running after you, and looking at the alleyway, only to see no trace of you.

“What the fuck?” Shinsou groans. There’s no way you disappeared into fucking thin air. Maybe that’s your quirk?

He picks up his scarf and examines it. Why didn’t it work on you before? It was as if it just…gave up.”

He scratches his neck and realizes his mask is still around it. So he forgot to use his quirk…..

“I just want to fucking sleep!” He yells into the air before stomping away to finish his patrol.

The following Monday, he’s on evening patrol with the same over-sweetened coffee order. Monday nights are usually quieter, with people resting up for work the next day. Well, they would be calmer if he didn’t have a partner as loud as a foghorn.

“I’m so frickin’ excited to be in this part of town!” Tetsu beams, knocking his knuckles together, “Usually I’m stuck with Red but wow I can’t believe I’m with you. You’re so cool, bro. And the view up here is awesome!”

“Mhm. Thanks. Let’s just be a little quieter. I kinda got a headache.”

“Oh yeah, right. No problem!”

It lasts all of two minutes before Tetsutetsu starts rambling on about something that makes Shinsou’s eye twitch. He could just use his quirk, but that would be a dick move, so he endures. Scanning the streets below, he notices a hooded figure walking away from a jewelry store. The items in their open duffel bag shimmered in the light before dashing as the alarms went off.

“Oooh, first catch of the night!” Tetsu grins, hardening his skin and jumping off the roof towards the figure that appeared on the roof, two buildings over. “Let's go!”

“Be careful—fucking idiot,” Shinsou scoffs, running after him.

Shinsou unravels his scarf and launches the end at you, but just like the other day, it misses you completely and falls flat to the ground, refusing to move.

“What the hell?” He tugs it, but it doesn’t budge, “How are they doing that?”

“I don't know what's wrong with your scarf, but we'll stop them with good old-fashioned brute force!”

As Tetsu slammed into the concrete roof, you jumped onto the next building, tripping over your feet and nearly falling.

“Gotcha,” Tetsu smirks, getting ready to jump at you, skin silver and hardened. You hold your hand out, and he freezes mid-air.

“Wha—what’s going on?” He stammers as he flails helplessly. “Mindjack?!”

Shinsou watches from afar as you flick your wrist, and Tetsu is tossed at him. He manages to jump out of the way before he gets crushed. Staring at Tetsu and your outstretched hand, his eyes are wide as saucers as Tetsutetsu gets up and starts swinging at him. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know?!” Tetsu yells back, still swinging, “I can’t move my body, it’s like….I’m not in charge of it.”

You wave two fingers, and he kicks at Shinsou, managing to just nudge his ribs.

Shinsou thinks through the options of what your quirk could be and how he could stop it. You didn’t do it to him, so what makes Tetsu so unique? He glances at your moving hands, then at Tetsu, who’s still bright silver. Maybe—

“I'm sorry for this Real Steel.”

“Sorry for w—” his eyes go white.

“Turn off your quirk.”

Tetsutetsu goes back to his regular lightly tanned self. As Shinsou expected, he falls to the floor, no longer being controlled.

“Dammit,” you whisper.

“I’ve figured you out!” Shinsou yells at you. “Not so tough now!”

Rolling your eyes beneath your mask, you flip him off before running towards the other rooftops and jumping into an alley. Shinsou chases after you, but when he looks down, you’re already gone.

“Fuck!” He tugs his hair in frustration. “How the hell does she keep doing that?!”

He goes back to a dazed Tetsutetsu, “Hey, you okay?”

“I think so, your quirk is super weird bro. It’s like everything—”

“Goes purple and white, yeah I know. Whatever. Can we get back to patrol so I can just get some sleep?!”

“You don’t have to yell at me,” Tetsu mutters.

“Listen, I haven’t slept in three days, three! And now Aizawa won’t let me until I catch fucking metal woman over here who, apparently, is some fucking Houdini and just disappears into thin air,” he presses the communicator in his ear, “Eraserhead? Her quirk is metal control. There, now it’s registered. Can I go sleep now?”

‘Roger that,’ Aizawa’s voice sounds in his ear, ‘I’m assuming you caught her then?’

Shinsou punches the air a few times, “Negative. She got away.”

‘You know what that means then’ The static stops crackling, indicating Aizawa was offline.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m seriously going to kill him.” Shinsou groans and picks up his scarf, “Let’s go.”

“Roger that!” Tetsu springs up, already feeling better.

“Where do you and Red get all this fucking energy?”

“Cause life is the best booster shot.”

“……..ok.”

“Good morning, MindJack!” A sidekick greets Shinsou when he enters the agency, “You look…….how are you?”

“Exhausted,” he grits out, stepping into the elevator and punching the top floor button.

When it opens, Aizawa is already waiting for him in the hallway.

“Morning,” he nods.

Shinsou just walks past him.

“Someone had a long night.”

“Oh? Oh! ‘Long night’, he says, the same person who’s been making me bust my ass for the past week. I’m living off 3 hours of sleep, sugar, and cheap coffee.”

“You get used to it, kid.”

“Don’t fucking call me kid, I’m a grown-ass twenty-two-year-old man.”

“Who still sleeps in cat boxers and Mr. Snoozy the bear.”

“Fuck you da—Eraserhead. He doesn’t sleep on my bed anymore.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, got a new side mission for you.”

“Finally! What is it?”

Aizawa holds up a yellow folder, “Undercover at Lilac Gardens. Some villains have been spotted going in there a few times so I want you to investigate tonight.”

“Lilac Gardens huh? Sounds cute. I’ll check it out.”

After a long day of paperwork, Shinsou gets ready to go to the Lilac Garden on the other side of town. He tries his best to look inconspicuous in his leather jacket, black band t-shirt, dark ripped jeans, and a black beanie to hide his bright hair.

The outside is dark, with the name in purple neon lights on the front. He pushes the door open and immediately regrets it.

“Fuck me,” he sighs wearily and walks in. The name does not match the interior. It’s seedy as hell and crawling with villains. Maybe he should’ve brought backup.

He walks up to the bar, tugging his black mask down.

“Whaddya want?” The bartender asks, putting her hand on her hip.

That voice. It can't be. Looking up at the bartender, he hid the shock behind his eyes as he looked at the woman he’d been hunting for the past week.

“Dude, I don’t have all night,” you tell him, “Order or get the fuck out.”

He squints and scans the options on the shelves behind you, “Rum and coke. Aren’t you supposed to check I.D before serving customers?”

“Ew, you a cop or something? ”

The clamoring of the bar stops to a standstill as they await his response, your piercing glare the only thing in front of him.

“Nope. Just….new to this side of town.”

Much to his relief, the regular ambiance returns.

“... right. Rum and coke.”

He exhales when you turn around and start making the drink, waving your fingers to float the spoons and tumblers.

“Neat trick,” He comments, “What’s your quirk?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” you put the drink in front of him, “Not a good idea here.”

“Seems like I should be, considering I'm arresting you after your shift,” he whispers low enough for you to hear.

You squint, looking him over, “Ah fuck, you found me. Try anything funny and everyone in here will skin you alive.”

Shinsou takes the drink and sniffs it, “You’re not slick, what’s in here?”

You shrug, “Don’t worry, it won’t kill you.”

He puts the drink aside. “I don't trust you. Did you poison it?”

“Maybe. Now, you can stay here and do whatever it is you're supposed to do or get out.”

“As long as I catch you, I finish two missions at the same time and I finally get to sleep.”

“Damn they’re putting you through the wringer, huh? You look dead. Tragic.”

He rolls his eyes, “Can I have an actual drink?”

“I don’t serve narcs. You want a drink, the toilets are filled with piss by now, enjoy.”

“God, you’re a bitch.”

“You flatter me,” you faux swoon, “I did some research on you, y’know? Pro Hero MindJack. Lame ass name by the way.”

“So you know I could make you walk out of here handcuffed with no resistance?”

“Why haven’t you?”

That’s a good question. Why hasn't he used his quirk on the girl before him? Maybe he wanted to chase her and arrest her the ‘old-fashioned way’, or perhaps it was something else.

“Also, can’t use metal, dumbass.” You wiggle your finger at a spoon on the counter, and it twists into a curled ball, “That scarf of yours has some kind of alloy in it. Imagine my fucking surprise when I found that out.”

“So….. you had no idea that would work and just went for it?”

You shrug and move from behind the counter to pack up some glasses from the tables, then come back.

“So how long have you been doing this?”

“Bartending? About three years now.” You say while loading the dishwasher.

“And petty crimes?”

“A year. Bartending wasn’t cutting it.”

“Is it interesting? Any stories to tell?”

“Like I warned you earlier, quit asking questions. It won't end well.”

“I’m trying to fit in.”

“Ugh,” you put a pint glass down and spray something pale yellow and fizzy from the nozzle into it, “Here, drink this and shut up.”

“What is it?”

“Ginger Ale.”

Hitoshi sniffs, then sips, wincing at the tang from the bubbles, “Wow, tastes like medicine.”

“Ginger ale is used as ‘medicine’ in some cultures. Great for sore throats which I’m sure you have considering your quirk and all.”

Looking at the glass, Hitoshi raised his hand to grab it and tilted his head back, sleeve falling towards his elbow, revealing a sea and a venomous cobra inked onto his left arm and the words ‘don't talk to me’ on his neck in big black letters.

You reach out and lightly poke his bobbing Adam’s apple. He snorts and chokes, drawing a few stares from some patrons.

“What was that for?!” He hisses, wiping his nose with his jacket sleeve.

“No reason, just felt like it,” you laugh. “Worth it though considering you’re planning on arresting me.”

Oh right…. That’s still supposed to happen.

Rolling his eyes, he gives you a sliver of a smile when he hears your laugh. Fuck, that's adorable. Adorable? She's a villain. You can't fall in love with a villain. Right?

“Anyway MindFuck, my shift is almost over. So you wanna catch me outside or cause a scene here and risk it all?”

He glances around at the numerous villains whose faces he’d always seen in folders and on screens.

“Outside works,” he settles.

“Good choice.”

A little while later, another girl comes in to relieve you of your duties. You take off your apron and hand it to her before stepping out from behind the bar.

“Alright, the safest place for you to work is the roof so—“ you point to the ceiling and quickly disappear into the back room.

Hitoshi drops a couple of bills on the counter and rushes outside, looking up at the roof.

“Better hurry up, MindFuck!” You yell down at him.

“It’s MindJack!” He yells back.

“Probably shouldn’t be saying it out loud like that in front of the bar, stupid.” Your face backs out of view.

“Dammit.” He unravels the scarf around his neck and shoots it towards a nearby lampost, the end wrapping itself around the hanger. Landing on it, he jumps towards the roof and lands on his feet like a cat.

“Flashy,” you scoff, crossing your arms.

“Are you going to come quietly?”

“Kind of impossible. Don’t you think so?”

He registers the joke and blushes, “I hate you.”

“Damn, my feelings,” You fake hurt and put your hands over your heart, “Anyway, to make it easy for you, I won’t fuck with your scarf. Can’t guarantee you'll beat me though.”

“Hmph. We’ll see. So any more rules?” He asks, thinking he could use his quirk on you, “Before you try to run can I ask you something?”

You stay quiet.

“No response? You were so chatty earlier.

You shrug.

“Yup, you’re the worst.”

You turn on your heel and stand on the edge of the roof. Shinsou steps forward, waiting for your next move.

Turning around, you wink at him before jumping off the ledge and rolling onto the next roof of the building next door. “Catch me if you can MindFreak.”

“Oh, now you talk!” He chases after you.

Grinning wickedly, you keep running, occasionally bending metal out of your way and moving a pipe just before Hitoshi manages to get where you once were.

“How the fuck are you so fast?!” He pants, launching his weapon and instead snagging a piece of pipe you toss at him, “This is destruction of public property y’know?!”

“Not my problem, troll doll!”

Stopping for a moment, Hitoshi glared at your retreating figure before shooting his scarf at the closest thing near you to swing on. Troll doll?! Seriously!

The cat and mouse game continues. You easily dodge his weapon as both of you run across the roofs.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Shinsou grunts, his lungs on fire. He sees his opening when you reach the end of your path and stare down at the busy street, the other ledge too far to jump to.

“Fuck, my back,” he wheezes quietly and catches his breath, “Okay, end of the line, sweetheart. Come with me, you're under arrest. There's nowhere to run.”

You scan through your options, then turn to stare at him and pout before shrugging and holding your hands up in surrender.

Shinsou hesitates. No way you’re giving up that easily, but he’s too tired to care right now.

“I’m kinda sad it’s got to end like this,” you say, “I’ll see you around.”

“Wait….what?”

You wave your hand, and his scarf wraps around his arms and torso, pulling him to the ground.

“Oh come on!” He writhes on the floor, “Forgot about that.”

You walk up and look down at him, a smile on your face, “You a little tied up?”

“Thought you said you won’t fuck with my scarf?”

“I lied.”

You clench your fist, and the scarf tightens around him, “That should hold you for a while. I’ll see ya around.” You walk away from him.

Shinsou wiggles some more, trying to get loose, “You can’t leave me here! Come back. I need to take you in.”

A loose end of his scarf hooks over his mouth, effectively silencing him. Your upside-down face comes into view, “You talk way too much, dude.”

He glares up at you, thick brows furrowed deeply.

“Anyway, this was fun. Maybe we can do this again sometime. Buuuutttt since you wasted my time—“ you squat and start rummaging through his jacket pockets, pulling out his wallet. You open it and scoff, “Really? Nothing? Fucking broke ass. Oooh, who’s this?” You look at the small photo of a tired-looking dark-haired man standing with Shinsou, “Cute, is he your dad? I’d totally bang him.”

He protests and tries to sit up, but you put your boot on his chest and continue tossing the contents onto the floor, only pocketing a few coins. Stealing his beanie, you wink as you step backward away from his tied-up figure.

You throw the wallet on the ground next to him, “Alright, bye MindFuck! See ya around.”

Shinsou tries to yell at you, but the gag around his mouth muffles it. You jump down out of view, and he hears your footsteps running off. He relaxes and stares up at the night sky, wishing he was dead.

Minutes later, he feels the scarf loosen snug for him to get free and stand up. He gathers up his wallet and stuffs it back in his pocket before pulling out his phone. A few taps later and he sees the blinking purple spot. It was a dumb move to steal his beanie, considering he had a tracker in it in case something were to happen to him. But boy, is he grateful you did.

“Gotcha.” He smirks at the screen.

Groaning to himself, he takes out his earbuds, jumps off of the building towards the alley, and walks towards the street. Making his way towards the bus stop, a squeaky voice calls out to him.

“Mommy! Look! It's MindJack!”

“That's right, it is.” The tired woman tells her child.

“Can I have your au-autagaph? I’m your biggest fan!”

Hitoshi smiles tiredly. “Sure kid. What's your name?”

“Kaede.”

“Nice to meet you Kaede. What should I sign?”

Kaede jumps up and down before getting a crude crayon drawing he made of himself and Hitoshi from his little backpack. “Sign this, peez?”

Nodding, he takes out a pen from his utility belt and writes right underneath the purple drawing of him:

‘To Kaede,

My number one fan and future hero.

-MindJack’

Kaede smiles eagerly, hugging Hitoshi's thigh before putting the drawing in his backpack.

“Tank you,” he giggles before running towards his mother, who nods and smiles at Hitoshi.

Hitoshi waves tiredly before stepping into the bus, putting his mask over the lower half of his face, and rides home.

After about twenty minutes, Hitoshi face plants onto his bed, groaning loudly out of exhaustion and stress.

This is all her fucking fault! I swear the next time I see her, I'm gonna—

An image of you on your knees, between his thighs with your eyes rolled back flashes in his mind. No. He shouldn't, but he was so stressed out.

“I just need a shower, Yeah that’s it.” He begrudgingly gets out of bed and strips down to his boxers, tossing his clothes into the already full hamper.

Another image of smooth brown skin tied with black rope flashes behind his eyes.

“No! We’re not doing this!” He yells into the empty apartment.

He takes off his boxers and steps into the shower, letting the almost scalding water run over him.

Sighing gently as the hot water ran over him, he couldn't stop thinking about you despite the self-declaration he had just made. Your laugh, the way your hands move while you’re using your quirk, your pretty face. Everything.

Maybe the exhaustion is finally catching up to him because Hitoshi didn't know when it started. Still, he slowly wrapped his hand around his length, stroking himself to the thought of you on his bed, tied up in a harness made from his scarf at his mercy. The thoughts of you screaming his name mixed with moans and pleas of “faster! Harder!” flooded his senses as he stroked faster before eventually painting his charcoal black shower walls a murky white.

Okay, no big deal, he just jacked off to the thought of having sex with a villain….

That’s normal, right?

He watches the white disappear down the drain and quickly finishes up the shower. He’s still plagued by the thoughts even after he crawls into bed and shuts his eyes to get ready for the few hours he’s going to sleep.

He thinks of how satisfying it’ll be when he finally gets you and takes you into custody. He can almost see the smug look on your face disappear into mild annoyance or maybe fear? Would you struggle? God, he hopes you will just so he can tie you up some more.

“…….dammit!” He hisses and kicks the sheets off when he

suddenly feels too warm. He lays on the bed spread-eagle and stares at the ceiling, forcefully willing himself to go to sleep to no avail.

“I hate her,” he mumbles as he shoves his hands down his boxers and grips himself, stroking it to full hardness, “I hate her.”

He shuts his eyes and thinks of you tied up in front of him, arms behind your back and legs open and bound in a frog tie.

‘You got me,’ fantasy you mocking him, unable to close her legs because of the intricate rope holding them open, ‘Whatcha gonna do now, MindFuck?”

Shinsou fists himself to the thought of fucking you in that same position, his scarf around your neck tight enough to keep you still but not too tight.

Are you a crier or screamer?

A creamer or a squirter?

Do you shake and shiver when you come and gasp his name?

He hopes it’s all of the above. He really does. Not that he’d find out anyway.

The Shinsou in the fantasy pulls out and paints your skin with streaks of white just as he cums in real life, staining his boxers and hand. Maybe you’d let him finish inside to avoid this mess.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his body suddenly too heavy to do anything. He looks at his messy hand and cringes, “This is so fucking dumb.”

“Shinsou….Shinsou? Hitoshi!”

Shinsou snorts awake, lifting his head from the desk to look at Aizawa, “Huh?”

“Sleeping on the job? Thought I raised you better.”

Shinsou yawns loudly, “I’m fucking exhausted. You had me infiltrate a villain's bar without telling me last night.”

“All part of the job kid, you didn’t submit any intel though. Why?”

“I didn’t…..get anything interesting. They drink, eat, and shoot the breeze. I’d wait a while before you try to sting it, I think they were on to me.”

Aizawa hums, “Alright, I’ll take your word for it. What about metal quirk girl? Any news?”

Shinsou swallows dryly, “……no. Nothing yet.”

“That’s too bad, all the best. Hizashi is making your fave tonight, kushikatsu. I’ll leave it in your apartment.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Shinsou smiles.

Aizawa pats his head before leaving the office. As soon as he’s gone, Shinsou pulls out his phone and opens the tracking app, watching the purple dot move around. He’s approximated where you live, but he’s not sure what to do yet. A sting or a solo mission?

He’s already made his decision.

You clutch your phone to your ear while you unlock your apartment door, listening to your sister ramble about her day.

‘—I’m still not allowed to use my quirk, though,” you hear her pout.

“Damn, that’s too bad. I bet it’s pretty powerful now,” you smile and shut the door behind you.

‘I can bend forks now!’

“That’s great, soon you’ll be just like me,”

You flick the light on and put your backpack down on the small table you eat at and start rummaging through the fridge.

“Yeah, I just got home from work so I’m about to eat. So I’ll call you later. Love you, byeeeee.” You pop open the Tupperware and plate the leftovers, putting them in the microwave.

As you wait, you make a realization. Where’s Whiskey? He always greets you when you come home and purrs as loud as a truck. The window isn’t open, so he couldn’t have snuck out.

Before you can turn, you feel your hands get tied behind your back, immobilizing your fingers and wrists. You’re yanked onto the floor, hitting your head on the hardwood.

“Jesus, fuck that hurt!” You groan, looking at the ceiling.

A head of purple hair comes into view, “Boo.”

You frown up at him, “How did you find me?”

“I have my ways,” he watches you struggle a bit in the scarf, “Don't bother trying to control it. I switched to silk.”

“Ugh, dammit.” You roll onto your side, “Where’s my cat?”

“In your room with some catnip.”

“So what now? You take me in and I get locked up? Mission accomplished I guess.” You sigh.

“Mmmm, not exactly.” Shinsou yanks you to your feet, “I thought I’d do a little interrogation.”

He pulls you to the small couch and seats you down while he sits on the coffee table in front of you, knees spread, “So why do you do it?”

“What?”

“Robbery. Petty crimes.”

You chuckle, “Some of us have needs that a nine to five can’t fulfill.”

“But you still stay in this dingy ass apartment.”

“Hey, it’s not much but it’s my home.”

Shinsou hums, clearly annoyed, “I can’t fucking stand you, y'know.”

“Feelings mutual, MindFuck. Just take me away already if that’s what you wanna do.”

Shinsou squints, “Tell me who you steal for.”

“I’m not—“ your mind goes blank; the only thing filling it is purple and white smoke.

“Mhm, tell me why you steal.”

“My sister is in school in America so I pay for her tuition with the stuff I steal,” you explain in a monotone voice.

“Where are your parents? Tell me.”

“Dead. Villain attack five years ago.”

Shinsou’s jaw tenses and he lets you go. You gasp loudly and double over, dry heaving, “Wha—what was th-that?”

“My quirk. Takes some time to get used to. It’s kinda jarring not being in control of your body,” Shinsou drawls, “So…your sister huh?”

He sees the worry on your face, “Don’t talk about her. She doesn’t know anything.”

“Mhm.” He thinks for a second, “I’m not arresting you.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope.”

“…..why?”

“I feel like….it wouldn’t be right. I know what it’s like to be alone, believe me. I’m not taking you in.”

You give him a once over, “There’s a catch, isn’t there?”

He shrugs, “No catch. Like I said I’m not the one who's gonna arrest you but I’ve been assigned to you so as long as I’m on your ass, no one will come looking for you.”

You relax a little, “I see. Okay, whatever. Is that all?”

Shinsou smirks, “Nope. You fucked up my sleep schedule for a week and a half, I deserve compensation.”

“You are broke. I could give you a quarter of what I get from my heists if it's money you want.”

Looking down at you, tied up and struggling in his scarf, spurred him to move closer. “Mmm, not exactly.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“One, for you to take three days a week off so I can finally fucking sleep. And two, payment for the sleep you stole from me.”

“But you don't want money….”

“There are other ways to pay, sweetheart.”

“H—No.”

“You don't even know what I was gonna suggest.”

“I’ve dealt with enough skeezy people to know what you mean. I’m not fucking you. I’d rather go to jail.”

“First off, I'm not that bad. Second of all, it's either this or I leave and call another hero to take you away. What about your sister and poor little Whiskey?”

“Shut up…”

“Whiskey would probably get thrown into the streets and your sister would get tossed out of school. What would happen to them then?”

“I said shut up!”

“Look, I can make it enjoyable for both of us. Blow off some steam. Whaddya say?” He holds his hand out.

“Really?” You stare at it.

“I’m not untying you until you say yes. And don’t try anything cause I have a friend who’ll be alerted if anything happens to me.”

“Ugh, you and your limp dick can go fuck off.”

“Wrong answer.”

“…fine.”

“What was that?”

“I said okay.”

“Good girl.”

Feeling your brain reboot for a second, you stare at him as he starts to untie you.

“W-What did you call me?”

“I said you're a good girl.” Seems like she has a praise kink. Noted.

Reaching into his backpack, he pulls out a small paper packet and another separate sheet, “Alright, let’s go over some things. Basic Dom/Sub etiquette.”

“I’m not a bottom.”

“You are with me. Like I said, basic etiquette. Hard limits, safe words, all the normal stuff.”

You take the paper and go over the list with a small box next to each item, “There are a bunch of options.”

“Always need to be thorough.”

You go over a few times, “I mean….all this is fine just don’t….piss or shit on me. And no blood.”

“Cool. So sign the bottom there and we have a deal.”

You hold your hand out, and a pen flies into it. You sign your name and hand it back to him, “There, I signed your dumb contract. Now leave.”

Placing the papers back in his bag, he shakes his head and smirks at you. “Not yet. You owe me. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Hitoshi got up, making his way towards your bedroom to pick up Whiskey, move him out of the room, and clean up the bed.

When he left the living room, you got up and stuck your tongue at the corner he passed. Stupid hero. Who the hell does he think he is?!

You pick up Whiskey, your brown and white shorthair who wobbled in a few minutes after Hitoshi left, from the ground, the poor kitty on a catnip high, “Ugh, my poor baby. You’re conked out. Did the mean man get you high?”

Scratching underneath his neck. You kiss his forehead before putting him down on the counter for him to ride out his high.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay on the couch?” Hitoshi growls into your ear.

“Holy fucking shit! When did you get here?” you shout.

“Language, bunny.”

“Bunny?”

“You’re always running around, and your ears twitch like a bunny’s when you’re annoyed. So yeah, you’re my little bunny.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn around as he cages you between him and the counter.

“Don’t give me attitude, Bunny.”

“Or what?”

Hitoshi pulls you into a soft yet passionate kiss, cut short by you slapping him and pushing him away. Chuckling quietly, he touches his cheek, lilac hues glaring at you. Before you could blink, his hand was wrapped around your throat, his thumb and index finger pressing above your pulse point. “Try that shit again, bunny, and this won’t end well for you.”

Breath hitching at the motion, your eyes roll back at the unexpected pressure on your neck, a very dull heat forming between your thighs.

“Oh, does my bunny like this?” He taunts.

You wheeze when his grip tightens. Your hand grips his sturdy wrist, but it doesn’t budge.

“You do, considering you’re squirming. It’s cute. Keep doing it,” Hitoshi orders.

You want to stop just to spite him, but the arched eyebrow and the piercing gaze he gives you stop you from doing otherwise.

“When I tell you something, you do it, understand?”

Nodding frantically, you gasp as Hitoshi scoffs and slaps you.

“Hey!” You protest, cheek stinging.

“Use your words, bunny.”

“Asshole,” you huff.

Increasing the grip on your neck, he glared at you as your eyes crossed a bit. “Look at you, gettin’ off on this. Try again, bunny. What do you say?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Good bunny. Now follow me. I’m not done with you yet.”

You’re jerked back when he lets your neck go. What the fuck was that?

“I won’t ask again, Bunny.”

Staring at him, you try to catch your breath before yelping as his scarf shoots at you and wraps itself around you before Hitoshi drags you along the floor towards your bedroom.

“Goddamn, you’re such a fucking brat. You’re lucky I like brats.”

“Hooray for me,” you mumble, words dripping in sarcasm.

“Keep using that sharp tongue of yours, and I’ll gag you, ya little shit.”

After he turned around, you stuck your tongue out at him. Furby head ass bitch…

Plopping you on the bed, you stared at him cross-armed as he smirked at you. “Quit lookin’ at me like that!”

Hitoshi grinned. “You never said quirk usage was a no for you.”

You stay quiet, still glaring at him.

“We had a deal.”

“Ugh, fine. Just—“ your eyes white out.

“Strip,” he orders.

“Yes, sir,” you drone.

Stripping off your shirt and leggings, you stand before him in a violet lace bra and black lace underwear.

“Heh. Cute. I didn’t say stop. Keep going.”

Palming himself over his pants as he watches you unclip your bra from the back, slide it down your arms, and drop it onto the floor. Shimmying your underwear down your cocoa skinned thighs, you stand before him, waiting for his next order.

“Other way, bunny,” he says, twirling his finger around, stopping his movements. “Hand me a rope from my bag.”

Reaching into the bag, you pick out a yellow rope, and you mindlessly hand it to him as he examines it. “Nice color choice. Now stay still. Hands behind your back.”

You turn around and stay as still as a statue following his command. He ties the rope into a box tie, wrapping it around your forearms, shoulders, wrists, and breasts, squeezing them and smirking as you let out a shudder.

“Sit on the bed. On your knees, bunny,” Hitoshi smirks. “Don’t hurt yourself, though.”

Carefully lowering yourself, you sit on your knees as Hitoshi puts your legs in a frog tie.

“Good bunny, you look so good like this. You should see yourself.”

You gasp and regain control of your body, feeling the tug of the rope on your skin.

“What the fuck? What is this?” You try to move your hands, but they’re secure behind you, “Why am I not surprised you’re into this kind of shit?”

“Such a foul mouth, my feisty little bunny.” He coos, reaching out to squeeze your cheeks together in a pout, “What are your safewords?”

“Huh?”

He lets your face go, “Safewords. What do you say if you want me to stop or slow down?”

You stare blankly at him, “I don’t have any. Never needed them before.”

“Do you know what the traffic light system is?”

“Kind of.”

“Red means stop everything. Yellow means slow down or wait, and green means keep going. Got it?”

“I guess. It seems easy enough to remember.”

“So, what’s your color now?”

“Uh, green?”

“Green, what?”

“Green, sir.”

“Good bunny.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, softly gripping your face, smiling when you kiss back tentatively.

Placing a hand on your neck, he cups the side of your face while letting the other trail down your body, resting on your thigh. Flinching gently when he feels your teeth nip his tongue that he tries to force into your mouth, he pulls away as you look up at him with a smirk.

“Brat,” he growls, popping you in the face with one hand and slapping your folds with the other. “Behave, bunny.”

“Ngh,” you groan when his hand harshly slaps your pussy, the sting making you jolt on the bed.

“Feels good?” He teases, smacking you again until you’re squirming.

“No!”

“Then why’re you getting wet?” He presses two fingers to your hole and feels the slick there.

“I…” you whine as his thumb toys with your clit while pressing his fingers against your opening.

“Answer the question, bunny~.”

You laugh breathily, “That’s how pussies work, dumbass. What, you a fucking virgin or you’ve never gotten a girl wet before?”

Your mocking laugh is cut off when he smacks you across the face again, hard enough for your cheek to burn.

“Ow! Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, sir,” you whimper.

“Good, you’re learning. What’s your color?”

“….green.”

“You need to be sure.”

“Green, fucking hell!” You snap at him, “Just get it over with already.”

“You’re not enjoying yourself?”

You look away briefly, face warm, “I am. Can you just…..tie my hair back? It’s getting annoying.”

Hitoshi nods, cutting a spare piece of rope and using it as a makeshift hair tie for your braids.”Better, bunny?”

“Yes, thank you, sir.”

“Good girl,” he praises, “But you still need to be punished for that mouth of yours and for the ten days of sleep you stole from me.”

“What?! No that wasn’t my fault!” “Yes, it was. I was assigned to you, and now you’re part of my caseload so, yes, it is.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Removing his shirt, capture weapon, and undershirt, he chuckled as you gaped at his chiseled body covered in the most random tattoos.

“Take a photo. It’ll last longer,” Hitoshi snickers, booping your nose, watching it twitch from the sensation. “You really are a bunny.”

Looking away as your face grew much hotter, you tried focusing on something else in the room, only for him to tilt your head up, forcing your gaze back on him. “Eyes on me, little bunny.”

Nodding at his instructions, his eyes softened momentarily before removing his black cargo pants, revealing jet black boxers with gray cats on them.

“Cat boxers? Really?” you snicker as he grumbles.

“Oh, shut up,” he snaps.

You bite your lip to stifle your laughter, “Sorry, sir.”

“It’s alright. Now,” he huffs, adjusting himself to sit you at the head of the bed while he maneuvered, lying flat on your sheets on his stomach. “Be a good bunny, and pay me what you owe.”

Squirming against the binds which held you, you felt your skin flush against as Hitoshi’s face got close to your folds. Playfully blowing on your clit, he chuckles as you jolt slightly. His lilac pools catch your brown ones for a moment before winking and focusing on your clit, licking around and beneath the bud. Pulling away, he kept licking and occasionally sucking until he pulled away, licking a stripe from your opening up to your clit. “Having fun, bunny?”

Whining softly, you looked up at your bedframe, trying to think of anything else until his tongue slipped inside as his thumb rubbed harshly at your bud.

“Fuck!” you shout and try to close your legs but the rope holds them far apart.

His laughter vibrated against your folds as he pulled away, tongue toying with your folds as his pointer finger inched its way inside you, curving itself against your g-spot, gently pumping in and out of you.

“MindJack!”

“Call me Shinsou or sir, Bunny.”

“Fuck, sir, please!” you cry out. “Don’t stop!”

Hitoshi smirked at your pleas. “Since you asked so nicely, I’ll listen to you this time.”

Pumping his finger faster, he slowly pushes in a second, steadily lapping at your clit as he pushes both digits at a rapid speed, relishing in the sounds of your soft sighs and moans. Gasping at the knot forming in your stomach, you whimpered loudly, arching your lower half into Hitoshi’s touch. “Fuck, I’m gonna come!”

Hitoshi pulls away just as you announce your impending orgasm. “W-What?”

“That’s one.”

Hitoshi stole four more orgasms from you with just his tongue and fingers.

“What’s your color?” He asks, caressing your tired thigh Panting heavily, you stared at him, whimpering as he pulled away from your folds, his lips glossy with your essence, “G-green”

Lightly fondling your breasts, he teases one nipple, softly biting the flesh of the other. Pulling away when you try to get some friction from the sheets, he grips the elbow of the rope tied between your neck and breasts, pulling you close to him in a seated position.

“You don’t get to cum, unless I say so, bunny.”

“Yes, sir,” you shudder.

Gripping the binds tightly, he removed his boxers, revealing another tattoo that says: Taste the Rainbow on both his thighs with arrows pointing toward his bulge. Jesus fuck, he’s big. “Now, I’m finally gonna put good use to that sharp tongue of yours. Open wide, little bunny.”

Looking up at him, you sigh softly before opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out as he groans at the look before him. Finally got this brat right where I fucking want her.

Resting the weight of his dick on your tongue, he stroked it gently before gripping the ponytail he made for you earlier. “Suck, bunny.”

Taking him into your mouth, you hum gently as Hitoshi hisses at the sensation.

“Such a, fuck, slutty, bratty bunny I have. Your mouth feels so good. Just like that,” he grunts.

Looking down at you, he grips the ponytail he made, he grips the base, hand covering it and the back of your neck.

“Stay still, bunny. Just, lemme use your throat.”

Moving your head a little faster, Hitoshi starts using your mouth as a fleshlight, ignoring the sounds of you gagging quietly. He presses all the way in so your nose is brushing the short purple pubes on his crotch.

“Look at me,” he mutters then groans when your teary eyes focus on his own. Your tongue snakes along the underside of his shaft, teasing the veins winding along the bottom. The action makes thick strings of spit and precum drool down your chin and chest but the weight of his dick in your mouth is so satisfying, you can’t help but moan around it and rock your hips trying to get some friction from the sheets.

“Fuck, almost there bunny. Oh, shit!” he gasps and pulls out of your mouth, stroking his dick over your face until the first spurt of cum hits your nose. You open your mouth for the rest, the tang landing on your lips and taste buds. Licking away what you could, Hitoshi pants heavily while you catch your breath, “Ugh, drink more water.”

“You try getting any work done with barely any sleep,” he grumbles back, “Coffee is all I have.”

“Uh-huh. Are we done?” You ask, still upset and would right from being edged and the rope is still digging into your skin.

“Oh, so you don’t wanna come, then? I could just leave you here, all tied up.”

“No! No wait! Please, sir. I want you to. I wanna cum.” You squirm.

“Mhm,” he hums nonchalantly, “Do you deserve it?”

“I—“ you hesitate, “Yes?”

“You don’t sound sure.”

You try to kick your feet but they’re held tight to your thighs, “Yes! I’m sure. You can’t leave me like this, please! Shinsou, fuck me. Ruin me. Um, yellow.”

“Woah, hey, calm down,” he rubs your shoulders, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m just…. really horny right now and you’re killing me over here.”

“Breathe, bunny,” he coos.

“(Y/n),” you mumble.

“What?”

“That’s my name. You can call me (Y/n).”

“Beautiful name for my beautiful bunny.

“You’re so fucking cringe,” you chuckle.

“Shut up, you like it,” he smirks.

“Nope, still can’t stand you.”

“You sure about that,” he chuckles, pulling you up to look at him.

“Very,” you smirk leaning in.

Neither one of you remember who initiated the kiss but it was sloppy, messy, and yet somehow so romantically passionate, it would make your teeth rot at how sweet it was.

Pushing you down onto your back, Hitoshi pulled away, looking down at your flustered form. “You said you wanted me to ruin you, right Bunny? I’ll ruin you, alright.”

Feeling the butterflies flutter in your stomach, Hitoshi dipped his head, nipping at your jaw with a grin before starting on a hickey near your pulse point, grinning at the soft moan you gave.

“You clean?”

“Kind of too late to ask since you already stuck your tongue in there,” you muse, “Yeah, I am.”

Continuing his hickeys, his hands trailed down your body, groping at your breasts before fondling your cheeks.

Tapping himself against your clit, he shuddered as he slowly ran himself along your entrance before slowly pushing in with a deep groan. “Fuck, bunny,” he sighs as you pant from the initial stretch. “You’re so tight.”

After a minute or two of getting used to him, you nodded your head, giving him the okay to start moving.

Moaning as he starts thrusting, you gasp when he starts hitting that spot inside you while toying with your clit.

“Fuck, Shinsou, please!”

“Tell me what you want, bunny.”

“Choke me,” you mewl.

“Oh?” he hums, gripping your throat just as he thrusts back in, steadily increasing and relieving the pressure in tune with his thrusts. “Little bunny wants to see stars, hmm? I can do that. Be a good girl and take it and I’ll make you see the whole. damn. galaxy.”

Crying out at his statement, you felt your eyes roll back as the edges of your vision slowly turned black. “Fuck, sir, please. I’m close. Wanna cum! Wanna cum so bad.”

“You deserve it, bunny, go ahead. Make a mess on my cock, sweetheart.”

The rapid thrusts mixed with the stimulation pushed you right over the edge. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” you shout, coming down from your high.

But he doesn’t stop. He’s still keeping the same cruel pace and you’re starting to curl into yourself from overstimulation but the rope keeps you spread out.

Shinsou gropes your framed chest, pinching one nipple and smacking the other a few times.

He watches his dick move in and out of you, white cream collecting at the base and staining his pubes.

He throws his head back and groans, “Fuck I needed this. Your pussy’s fucking amazing.”

He shoves himself nice and deep at the last word.

“Shit!” You shout when you feel his tip push your poor cervix, “That hurts!”

“You know how to make it stop,” he squeezes your throat again to hear you wheeze out a curse. His free hand moves from your hip to smack you across the face again, “You’re so goddamn annoying,” he grunts.

You frowned at him, lips swollen and parted, “You too, sir.”

He chokes you again, gritting his teeth when he feels you clench around him and your pussy fluttering wildly.

Your body jerks and shakes when you cum again, high-pitched moans of his leaving your lips.

Hitoshi, not too far behind, pulled out, finishing on your stomach. “Goddamn, that was…”

“Amazing,” you slur.

“You okay, Bunny?”

You hum and sigh loudly, eyes fluttering closed.

Shinsou gets to work untying your hands and legs. You groan in relief when you can finally control your limbs and curl up on the bed, hugging your shoulders.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” He tells you in a soft voice, rubbing your thigh.

“Mm.” You respond sleepily.

He leaves to check your bathroom for a washcloth to clean you up with. He runs it under warm water and comes back to wipe you down.

“I feel like a baby getting their diaper changed,” you smile tiredly as he cleans between your legs, “Now I see why they shit all the time.”

Shinsou chuckles and cleans himself up too, “You did great,”

“Mm,” you hum and reach over for the oversized shirt you sleep in, “I’m gonna have a crick in my neck for days because of you.”

Shinsou puts on his pants, “You good?”

“I’m great,” you wave dismissively,covering yourself with your blanket, “You using the front door or window?”

“Window,” he pulls on the rest of his clothes and picks out the pamphlet from earlier, “If this is gonna be a consistent thing,I really need you to go over these so I know your limits.”

“Ugh,” you groan,rubbing your face, “Like I said,just don’t piss or shit on me and I’m cool.”

“Still,this is a binding for both of us so just check the boxes. I’ll come by and pick it up when I have time.”

You yawn and mumble something along the lines of a positive response, shutting your eyes.

Shinsou leaves the papers on your nightstand, packs up his stuff and makes his way to the living area.

Whiskey meows at him from the ground, green eyes stuck in a hard glare.

“Sorry little buddy. It was necessary.” Shinsou reaches down to scratch his ear before opening the window and climbing out onto the fire escape. Just as he shuts it, his phone pings with a message from Aizawa asking how his patrol was going.

Shinsou takes out an energy drink from his backpack and texts back a simple ‘fine’ before hopping up onto the roof to continue his patrol.

#shinso x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #my hero academia shinsou #mha x reader #bonnie.writes #bnha x black!reader #x black reader #bnha x reader

162 notes · View notes

redhoodieone · 4 years ago

Text

You’re so Lucky!

A/N: Hey y’all! Here’s another sexy story that was a request from the amazing @jasontoddslut! Enjoy my peeps!

Warnings: Language, Bad Relationship with Ex-Boyfriend, Smut, Voyeurism, and Jason’s Goddamn Dirty Mouth!!!!!

It was bound to happen. She couldn’t deny this was going to happen sooner rather than later. If she believed they that they could get through their issues and be happy like they once were, then she’s a real fucking idiot.

Gabi still couldn’t believe it though. One minute she was trying to calm Bobby down and the next, he’s screaming at her and telling her to get the fuck out of his apartment. He was in a bad mood to begin with. He’s a mechanic and he’s always tired when he gets home. He was expecting dinner to be ready and maybe have his loving girlfriend of three years rub his back since his shoulder pain is getting worse.

But no. Gabi made the mistake of asking Bobby where he was tonight as soon as he got home.

What set him off was her telling him to calm down. She should have known though.

You should NEVER. EVER. Tell an easily angry guy to calm down.

Because that’s like telling fire to not burn people. Or telling a baby to not cry.

She should have known better though. It’s no surprise Bobby’s into some serious shady shit that the low life Gothamites meet up sometimes at night in casinos or nightclubs. She knows they do illegal shit like selling drugs, ordering weapons from other countries, and maybe even kidnapping young women and children.

And Bobby had participated in the ordering weapons category.

How Gabi found out is another story: she knows for damn sure that Bobby once brought home fifteen state of the art total militia AK-47 guns. Bobby had foolishly asked Gabi to go get some important documents from his huge safe; totally forgetting the weapons were in there about five months prior.

Why would a normal mechanic need such weapons?

Gabi had decided to never bring it up. Bobby would either deny or lie about it. His temper had been getting worse right about then and she knew better.

But he wasn’t always like this. Oh, no. Bobby was a funny, laid back, and loving type who worshipped the ground Gabi walked on before they even started dating. But after two years of living with each other, things changed.

Simple as that. Things changed.

Gabi always wondered how things could just...change. So easily. The fact that it could happen in the blink of an eye frightens her sometimes.

Just like Bobby’s hidden anger. She never knew a hilarious and sweet guy could have the rage of a bull.

Bobby never hit her though. He always made sure to slam his fist against the wall beside her head, though. He was the type to yell and belittle Gabi as if she was a little girl.

But she wasn’t a little girl. She was a 23-year-old woman who moved in with her boyfriend so fast that she began to understand why her parents and friends disapproved of her choices and relationship.

I just had to learn the hard way, Gabi thought to herself.

She doesn’t know why she’s trying to think of sayings that relate to this experience. The point is, Gabi knows she seriously fucked. With Bobby only giving her ten minutes to pack whatever truly mattered to her, she had to hurry the fuck up.

The moment she made it outside the apartment building, all Gabi could do is replay her questions that she asked Bobby.

Where were you tonight?

Were you with someone?

What did you do?

Why can’t you tell me what you did?

Are you hiding something from me?

Are you getting into dangerous things?

No wonder Bobby kicked her out. Gabi should have never put her nose in his business. And now, she’s practically homeless. She knows it would be embarrassing as hell to go back to her parents’ house because of what they told her before getting involved with Bobby. She also knows her friends would treat her horribly, with the “I told you so” stares and lectures. Gabi was certainly running out of options just as the rain began to fall.

There was one person she could go to, who would never turn her away.

However, Gabi hasn’t spoken to this person in about a year because of her relationship with Bobby as well as this person’s own relationship with their significant other.

But Gabi knew Y/N was a good person, a good friend. She was a sweet person, with a big warm heart and she would never turn her away.

With nowhere else to go, Gabi walked alone in the rain all the way down to high class side of Gotham.

By the time Gabi gets to the high-class penthouses, she has to call Y/N to let her inside. Of course, Y/N excitedly tells her to come up, and Gabi immediately starts to feel somehow relieved that Y/N hasn’t changed at all.

As Gabi finally makes it to the correct floor, she sees Y/N waiting by the door, where Gabi assumes is where Y/N lives. Y/N is wearing a red and black flannel pajama pants and a thin black tank top. Gabi also notices Y/N’s barefoot, and her hair’s in a messy bun.

She must have just woken up. I’m so sorry, Y/N, Gabi thinks to herself.

But none of that matters when Y/N meets Gabi halfway in the hall where they collide in a tight, warm-hearted embrace. Y/N smells like a woodsy, musky cologne, most likely from whoever she’s seeing with now. Maybe they were snuggling up against with each other until Gabi had called and asked if she could come over.

“Come inside. You must be freezing!” Y/N says, releasing Gabi from her hug and pulling her arm towards the front door.

Gabi follows on shaky legs, completely overwhelmed by seeing her longtime best friend. Y/N giggles and leads Gabi inside the penthouse. Gabi instantly is hit by the aroma of vanilla and musk, the smell of intimacy and seduction. Her eyes take in the red and black walls and décor, some exquisite art pieces, and the big space that is more comfortable and warmer than most homes she’s ever seen.

“Welcome, mi casa es tu casa! Seriously Gabi, babe, make yourself at home. There’s absolutely no rush to leave. You leave when you’re ready, okay?” Y/N says seriously.

“Are you absolutely sure? I really don’t want to impose or put you and your boyfriend out,” Gabi confesses.

Y/N leads Gabi to the long, cherry red couch that is facing a huge flat screen TV. Gabi sets down her duffle bag and takes a seat next to Y/N on the couch.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Jay and I insist you stay here until you figure out what you want to do, okay?” Y/N says, before she turns around to get comfortable to face Gabi.

A vanilla candle is lit on the coffee table. Gabi’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I didn’t...interrupt something, did I?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t! I was just setting the mood in the living room to be more...comfy,” Y/N admits, with a chuckle. “Jason just got home a few minutes ago and is taking a shower. He should be done by now.”

As if on cue, they hear someone walking down the hall and towards the living room. He stops near the couch. There in all his glory, well half-naked glory, stands Jason Todd, God’s greatest creation of man...at least that’s what both girls were thinking.

“Gabi, this is Jason, my boyfriend,” Y/N proudly introduces Jason to Gabi. “Jay, this is Gabi, my best friend in the whole wide world.”

Still dripping wet and fresh out of the shower, Jason at least has a white towel wrapped around his waist; hiding his goods that Gabi wanted to see so desperately. He’s really tall, must be 6’2 or something close to that. She takes note that Jason is all man: there’s absolutely nothing that screams “boy”. Gabi inhales hard when she watches his large hand run through his soaked dark hair. The other hand holds the towel tightly around his hips.

“Hi,” Jason smirks at Gabi. She notices his eyes are green, almost like emeralds. He smiles at her, even his white teeth are perfect. “So, you’re Gabi. Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

“She-she has?” Gabi chokes out. Why is it so hot in here? Why can’t she speak?

Her eyes zero in on the droplets of water running down his strong as fuck built chiseled chest and perfectly sculpted abs that she really wants to lick and bite his skin.

Holy fuck...

Gabi scolds herself for thinking such inappropriate thoughts about her best friend’s boyfriend. Even though Gabi’s never fantasized Bobby this kind of way, she realizes Y/N’s lucked out. Bobby wasn’t in shape or even remotely attractive like Jason.

“Of course, she has. You’re one of her best friends, and I’m happy to finally meet you. I would go over there to shake your hand and properly greet you, but I’m uh...not exactly dressed yet,” Jason chuckles, and almost seems shy now. “I’m gonna go get dressed real quick so we can talk.”

You don’t have to. You can stay the way you are. You can even drop the towel, Gabi thinks improperly.

Y/N smiles softly at Jason as they watch him leave. True to his word, Jason returned in a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt and took a seat next to Y/N. Throughout their comfortable and pleasant conversation, Gabi truly sees the way Jason cares about her best friend. Midway through their talk about what happened to Bobby, Jason clearly was paying attention and rubbed caressed Y/N’s thigh when Gabi recounted the latest scary fight with Bobby. Whenever Y/N looked shocked or worried, Jason made sure to calm her down through touches, forehead kisses, and whispers words along the lines of love, probably.

It almost makes Gabi jealous. Y/N’s life is clearly so much better than what Gabi had going on for herself. Jason seems like the perfect gentleman; always does and says the right thing. Gabi’s never seen a man pay so much attention to a woman before. Not only did he offer Gabi his advice and opinions on getting a better and more affordable apartment on their street, but Jason even voiced his hatred for Bobby, and even went on to criticize the man for treating women so poorly. He even made a joke about finding the man and breaking his legs; making Gabi and Y/N laugh their asses off and making the energy around them fun again.

But for some reason, Gabi couldn’t help but notice that Jason wasn’t laughing as hard as she and Y/N were. It almost seemed like Jason was serious about breaking Bobby’s legs, but Jason wouldn’t do that. She was sure of it.

He wouldn’t, would he?

By the time midnight came, the three of them stood up and decided to go to bed. Jason even surprised Gabi by giving her a hug and telling her that she can stay in their guest bedroom for however long as she wants and needs.

“I’m serious, kid. Don’t even worry about it. You mean so much to Y/N, and so therefore, you mean a lot to me, too,” Jason had said as he pulled back from their hug.

Gabi was speechless to say the least. She didn’t want the hug to end. He felt so good in her arms and he smelled so fucking good.

But it was bedtime now, and once Y/N and Jason had shown Gabi the guest bedroom, they went off to bed to let Gabi get comfortable. It wasn’t long for Gabi to quickly clean herself up and put on some plain pajama shorts with a tank top. As soon as she turned off the light, she was amazed by how big and comfortable the bed was. She figured it must be new and is probably the first person to sleep in here. In just a few minutes, exhaustion took over and Gabi fell into a deep sleep.

Her throat was dry. That’s what awoke Gabi at two in the morning and made her climb out of bed and go search for a bottle of water. She made sure to tiptoe out of the room and walk slowly and quietly to the kitchen.

As soon as Gabi made it to the end of the hallway, she stops dead in her tracks when she hears moaning. A woman moaning.

Her mind registers that it’s Y/N moaning. But why is she moaning in the living room?

Curiosity forces Gabi to peek out into the living room and see what’s going on, despite the logical part in her mind is screaming at her to have some respect for her best friend and her boyfriend.

But being a pervert outweighs being a prude.

Gabi is utterly shocked to her core when she sees her best friend straddling Jason’s lap. On the red couch where they sat a couple of hours ago, Gabi sees Y/N and Jason making out heavily. She couldn’t unsee it; she wants to keep watching them.

Gabi even sees the vanilla candle is lit again, after Jason had blown it out before they all went to bed.

But all Gabi could see is Jason’s fingertips digging hard into Y/N’s exposed flesh from where her tank top is pushed up above her bare tits. Y/N shamelessly moans in between the evident delicious kisses, and grinds against Jason’s apparent bulge.

Gabi quickly notices an isolated leather recliner that’s against the wall near the hallway. She throws herself down, sinks into the chair and watches the practically live porno show in front of her.

Jason pulls back from the deep kiss, revealing his red, swollen lips from where Y/N’s been biting and sucking since the beginning. He rests his head back against the couch and looks up with hazy, lustful eyes as Y/N grins down at him. She bites her bottom lip and pulls up her tank top, removing her top completely from her body.

“Fuck...what the hell are you doing to me, sweetheart?” Jason asks breathlessly. He runs his hands up Y/N’s back and moves them to her front where he reaches for both her tits.

“I’m slowly...and softly killing you,” Y/N says, closing her eyes and moans when Jason gently grabs both her tits in his hands; her breasts fill his hands perfectly.

“I’d say...” he says, before sighing contently when switches from pinching her nipples to squeezing her tits before he sits up straighter and pulls Y/N’s body closer to lick and suck her sensitive nipples.

“Oh, fuck...oh Jay...feels so good,” Y/N moans louder than before. She whimpers and continues to rub herself against him. “I need to cum...please make me cum, Jay...”

Jason pulls back from her chest and gazes into Y/N’s eyes. “You wanna cum, doll? Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, please...I need you so bad!”

“No, I don’t think you need to cum,” Jason teases, before he pulls off his own t-shirt. “Now, I’m going to take off the rest of your clothes, but if you touch your pussy, I ain’t going to fuck you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Y/N snaps. Her cheeks are flushed from being aroused.

Jason smirks at Y/N’s frustration.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, sweetheart. I’m going to check how wet you are,” Jason explains, as he raises Y/N off his lap to pull down her pajama pants and panties; leaving her completely bare on his lap. “If you’re soaking wet, then I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be feeling me for days. But if I have to make you wet, then that means I get to do whatever I want to this pussy.”

“But-”

Jason runs his hand up Y/N’s thigh until his fingers glide over her bare pussy. His fingers gently push inside her, he can feel the wetness, but wants to see it for himself.

“Stand up and put your pussy in my face,” he demands.

“What?”

“I want to taste your delicious pussy right now. Don’t make me get up and literally put you on my shoulders to eat you out,” Jason threatens.

Y/N slowly moves to stand up carefully on the couch. Her legs are shaking, but Jason quickly grabs her to hold her steady. He doesn’t waste any time, and he dives into her pussy as if he’s a starving man.

“Oh fuck!” Y/N cries out.

Jason’s tongue on her clit is what she wants the most right now. He squeezes her thigh and flicks his tongue side to side until Y/N fears she’s either going to fall back or fall over him.

Y/N notices one of Jason’s pull up bars is above her. How convenient.

She grabs a hold of the bar to hold herself up just as he decides to slip a finger inside her. Holding herself up allows him to remove a hand from her thigh. He takes the opportunity to slip another finger inside and pumps them in and out fast.

Y/N’s body trembles when Jason curls his fingers and strokes the sensitive wall that he’s mastered so well. He can tell she’s close. She must have been excited earlier when they planned to stay in last minute. He manages to look up at her and he can see she’s barely holding on.

“You’re so close aren’t you, babe? You taste so fucking good that I want you to cum on my face. I want you to be my dirty girl tonight,” Jason says as he finger-fucks her harder and faster than before. “Are you going to be my dirty girl tonight?

“Yes! Fuck yes! Just-just make me cum, please!” Y/N cries out desperately, needing the push that Jason could only give her.

“You are my dirty girl. You love it when I make you cum with just my fingers and mouth. But I bet you want my cock right after, huh?” Jason asks, chuckling darkly when Y/N’s eyes roll back when he speeds up his fingers inside her. “You wanna ride me, don’t you?”

“Yes-yes I do...” she’s panting now.

“Okay, I want you to cum in my face and then quickly get on my lap and ride me. Fast, slow, hard, whatever, you pick. I just want to feel your warm, tight pussy around my dick, okay?” Jason says, quickly shoving his sweatpants and boxers down to his feet. “Fuck...give me your pretty, tasty pussy, sweetheart!”

And then Jason finally gives in. He pulls both her thighs to bring her pussy to his face. Y/N whimpers when he licks all around her wetness, and he hums in approval when he feels her hand stroking his scalp and pulling his hair, while she continues holding herself up with only one hand now.

The vibration from his humming helps her reach her release. He continues to thrust his fingers inside her and sucks her clit until she gushes in his face.

Y/N manages to silent most of her orgasm, but it didn’t help when Jason continued to lick and suck at her clit to swallow most of her juices. Once her body relaxes, she lets go of the pull up bar and drops down to the couch. Y/N quickly straddles Jason’s lap until her pussy is hovering above his hard cock.

“Spit on my cock, doll. Get it nice and wet,” Jason says, as he watches Y/N spit in her hand and stroke his thick cock until he’s nice and ready for her. “How are you going to ride me, sweetheart?”

Y/N slowly looks up into Jason’s dilated, misty eyes. “Deep. Hard. And fast,” she says.

Jason swallows hard but is able to quickly smirk up at Y/N before she takes full control. “Then ride me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my cock like the dirty girl you really are.”

Y/N finally lowers herself onto Jason’s cock, all logic and common sense flies out the window. Whenever his cock was deep inside her, they both tend to lose themselves and the world around them. Because whenever they were connected emotionally and physically in their bubble, nothing else fucking matters in the world.

When Jason fills her up completely, they both release a content sigh. They usually take their time in the beginning, mostly because of their fears whenever Jason leaves to work as Red Hood. But since they’re both so horny and want to cum sooner, they’ll have to just take their time during round two.

“Fuck me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself silly on my dick,” Jason moans, but he and Y/N laugh at the “silly” part, when he realizes that’s not very sexy.

But Y/N understands and slowly lifts herself up his lap until just the tip of Jason’s cock is inside her. She keeps a steady pace, lifting herself and lowering herself, until their rhythm flows. Within seconds, Jason helps her by holding her hips tightly and thrusting his hips in time with hers.

“Your cock is so big inside me, Jay. You fill me up so good,” Y/N moans and rides him a little faster; wanting the head of his cock to rub hard and relentlessly against her g-spot. She guides one of his hands off her waist to move towards her pussy, encouraging him to rub her clit. “I wanna cum again, Jay.”

“Yeah? You like ridin’ my big cock, you dirty girl? You want me to fill your pussy with my cum?” Jason asks, watching Y/N’s tits bounce while she rides his cock faster than before. He can’t help himself, he uses a free hand to pinch her nipple and leans in to bite and suck her breasts, until he puts his hand back to her hip to guide her thrusts. “You want me to fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes! Yes, please!” Y/N begs.

“Okay, my dirty girl. I’ll give you what you want.”

Well, Jason knows now that this is going to end fast, but he refuses to let it end without Y/N cumming hard again. He squeezes her hip with one hand and the other hand rubs her clit fast in messy circles. He begins to pull her down to meet his thrusts, fucking her harder and faster with everything he’s got. The squelching sound from his cock fucking up into her wet pussy becomes more noticeable, especially when their skin-on-skin slapping gets louder and harsher that echoes in the living room.

“Fuck...Y/N, you’re getting so tight. You feel so fucking good baby,” Jason pants hard, completely sweating and keeping his fast and erratic pace to get them to their releases. “Fuckin’ cum on my big cock, sweetheart. I wanna feel you cum so bad. Please cum for me, again.”

Y/N keeps her eyes on Jason just as her orgasm hits her hard; she squeezes and gushes around his cock, she calls out his name. Jason thrusts harder in her three more times, as he finally cums hard inside Y/N, calls out her name as quietly as he could. Y/N collapses against Jason’s chest, despite being hot and sweaty, but he doesn’t mind. He wraps both arms around her and holds her while they regain their breaths and can function normal again.

Y/N doesn’t see the loving smile Jason gives her as he kisses her forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, and hugs her tighter.

She looks up at him and smiles. “I love you, too.”

Before Y/N can lie her head against Jason’s chest again, she notices Gabi sitting and watching them. Y/N jumps up and covers her breasts with her arms, causing Jason to jump in panic and turn around to see what’s going on.

“Gabi! What-what the hell are you doing there?!” Y/N cries out in embarrassment. She can feel her cheeks are getting red again.

Gabi slowly gets up from the chair and makes her wave into the kitchen. She finds bottled water in the refrigerator, takes one, and goes back into the living room where Jason and Y/N are still frozen in fear.

“I-I was thirsty,” Gabi answers, even though she knows it sounds like a lame answer. She walks backwards until she reaches the hall. “And-and then I saw you guys, and then I couldn’t stop watching. I’m sorry, Y/N...Jason...”

But before Gabi leaves, she points a finger at Jason and smiles. She even chuckles. “But-but in my defense...he’s really sexy! He’s fucking gorgeous, Y/N, and you’re one lucky bitch! You’re so lucky!”

But Gabi is right about that.

Y/N is lucky...because she has Jason.

#dc comics #dc comics batman #jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x y/n smut #red hood #red hood smut #dc comics red hood #dc comics jason todd

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agent-whiskeys-sweetheart · 3 years ago

Text

Meant To Be (iv)

Pairing: Hotch x F!Reader

Summary: Once the team is back you all go out for drinks and your connection to Rossi becomes increasingly evident. The following day at work you get your first chance to work in the field.

Warnings: None! Just the slow burn as usual.

Word Count: 5,751

A/N: As always, thank you all so much for your continued support! It means so much to me! I just wanted to warn you guys that I may not be able to update as often as I would like for a while. School just started for me and my schedule doesn’t really allow for “free time” at the moment. Just know that I am working as quick as I can and I always look forward to sharing more with all of you. Thank you for your patience. I love you all so much!

Today goes by much more quickly than the last few weeks. Garcia helped to make the time pass a little faster but most days you were hanging on by a thread. Now that the whole team is back you feel more hopeful about your future amongst them. As the others do their required reports you make your way down to Garcia’s office. There is a bit of paperwork for the two of you to complete as well but it’s much different and a lot shorter than the rest of the team’s. At this point, you are able to walk into her office without even knocking.

“Hey cupcake! Ready to finish things up?”

“You know it.” Pulling your chair around you saddle up beside her. The paperwork is already laid out in front of her and she pushes a few sheets over to you. Thumbing through the few pages that there are you ask her for something to write with. What she gives to you is a small boring ballpoint pen. With a pang of betrayal in your eyes you look at her. “So what, I’m not good enough for the fun pens now?”

“Oh I’m sorry your highness. I thought you’d want a professional pen for your first round of professional paperwork.” Taking it out of your hand, she reaches over and retrieves a new pen that is a bright sparkling pink with a tuft of brightly colored fluff on the end.

“Thank you. Much better.” She laughs, nudging your knee with her own. The two of you set about filling out the reports. Every so often you ask her a question which she happily answers before going about finishing up her own. It only takes you both about fifteen minutes, leaving you time to talk before the rest of the team gets done.

“Did you get a chance to talk to Morgan?” Hearing her mention him for about the ten thousandth time makes you roll your eyes.

“Yes, I did. You know what, he didn’t mention you at all.”

“I wish I believed you but we both know that man is obsessed with me. What did you guys talk about?”

“Oh, so we’re feeling especially nosy today, aren’t we?”

“Always my sweet.” You love the ever adorable smile on her face.

“He was just telling me that he was impressed with my work on the case. He also told me that everyone is going out for drinks tonight and he invited me to come along.”

“Are you gonna go?” She asks even though she knows the answer.

“Yeah, of course. This is my first real chance to get to know the rest of the team. I mean, I already know Morgan pretty well I feel like but everyone else is basically a stranger to me.”

“I know. It’s gonna be a lot of fun. And of course I’m going with you.”

“I would expect nothing less from you my dear.” She gives another big toothy grin, causing you to smile as well. Looking back at the clock you stack up your papers and grab Garcia’s as well, heading toward the door. “I’m gonna go hand these in to Hotch.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you!” She says, watching the expression on your face change at the mention of your boss. “Are you still mad at him?”

“No, I was never mad at him. Was I frustrated with his decision? Of course but I don’t dislike him for it. He was doing what he thought was right. Besides, he already apologized to me.”

“Hotch apologized to you? For a decision that HE made?”

“Yeah.” Garcia pulls your chair back around and points to it.

“Okay you can’t tell me that and just leave. I need details.” Laughing you go back over and sit, putting the papers back on the desk.

“There’s not much to tell. Before he left he said he wanted to talk to me so he could ‘evaluate my abilities’. He called me in just a little bit ago. It went pretty well I think. He apologized for being harsh and said that on the next case he wanted me in the field. He also apologized for not remembering me when we met. So, yeah. We’re all good.”

“Okay, so why did you make a face?”

“What face?”

“Oh come on, you totally know you made a face. When you said you were gonna go to Hotch’s office you made ... a face.”

“Okay, well I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Even so, it happened so what’s the deal?”

“It’s nothing. I don’t know.” Hearing your awful dismissal, her nose scrunches up as she watches you with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah, something is definitely going on with you. I’m all ears my love. You know that you can tell me anything, right?” The genuine expression on her face tempts you to tell her every thought that’s gone through head from the very first moment you met Hotch. However, you are having enough trouble understanding your own feelings. There is no point in sharing them right now.

“Yeah, I know. It is truly nothing. I’m just nervous that he might change his mind about me working the next case, that’s all.” This answer seems to satisfy her as she pats your knee.

“Trust me, he won’t. You are an amazing agent and you are going to do great out there. And if he doesn’t like it he can just--”

“I can just what Garcia?” The sound of Hotch’s deep voice makes both of you jump as you look behind you where he is looming in the doorway. His presence is entirely commanding, the power that he exudes seeming very evident to you now. Garcia clears her throat as she looks between the two of you, adjusting her glasses.

“I was saying that you can just make an informed and valid evaluation and we will be entirely respectful of whatever you decide.”

“Right,” He says with a ghost of a smile, walking a little further into the office. “I came down to see if you had any questions about the paperwork. I know this is your first report, I didn’t want you to get lost.” This he says to you as he makes his way closer.

“It was actually pretty straightforward. I have it done if you’d like to take a look at it though.” Reaching behind yourself, you grab the report and hand it to him. With a nod he begins to scan through the pages, flipping through them fairly quickly.

“Exemplary. I’ll just take this up to my office. Garcia?” Without needing any further instruction, she grabs her own report and hands it to him. Just like that he’s gone again, leaving Garcia stunned.

“Wow. He must be in a really good mood.” She adds.

“What do you mean? I mean, how do you know?”

“Hotch doesn’t do that kind of stuff. If you had a question he would have expected you to take the initiative to ask. He normally wouldn’t have even considered making the trip so something must be different. That was ... just not in his nature.” Pondering the implications of her statement you settle for a small shrug.

“I guess he was just being nice. No need to wonder why he did it.”

“Yeah, I guess not. Well that takes care of that. I honestly don’t have anything else for you to do right now. You could probably go ahead and ask Hotch if you can leave for the day.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that. I wouldn’t mind a shower before we all meet up later.” With that you stretch and make your way towards the door.

“Have a good afternoon my dear. I look forward to seeing you later.”

“Thanks Pen. I’ll see you later.” Once she waves goodbye you leave her office, cracking the door behind you. Stepping into the elevator, you slink against the wall. Even though there’s nothing for you to do, the idea of asking to leave this early in the day makes you uneasy.

Once you’re back on the main floor you make a beeline for Morgan’s desk. The sight of you in his peripheral causes him to look up.

“Don’t you ever hang out at your own desk?”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if I didn’t come bug you every five minutes.” This makes him laugh as he sets down his pen.

“We’ll never know until you try,” Faking offense, you cross your arms. “I’m just teasing you kid. What’s up?”

“Well me and Garcia finished our paperwork and she doesn’t need help with anything for the rest of the day so I was gonna go ask Hotch if I could leave early. If he says yes I’ll need to know the name of the place we’re going tonight so I can meet you there.”

“Good luck getting Hotch to agree to that but on the off chance that he does, I can write down the address for you.”

“Sounds good. Better start writing then bud.” Glancing back over your shoulder teasingly you walk up to Hotch’s office, knocking sharply. Hearing him beckon you inside, you step through the door.

“I wanted to let you know that I talked with Garcia and she doesn’t have anything for me to do right now. Nobody else needs help either so I was wondering if there was anything you needed from me.”

“I don’t believe so. Usually today would mainly be spent doing paperwork but since you have less than the others if you’re finished I would be alright letting you leave early.” Hiding a smile, you nod.

“Thank you sir. I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You go to leave but he stops you before you can get out the door.

“L/N,” When you turn to look at him you see that same softness in his eyes as you did during your earlier conversation. “I was curious ... are you doing anything tonight? Anything recreational, I mean. An important thing to try and do is find time for yourself. This job is incredibly stressful and can take a lot out of you. It would be good for you to find some time each week to do something ... fun.”

This seems like a very light-hearted thing to be coming out of his mouth. He carries himself very professionally. There hasn’t been a moment so far when you’ve seen him unwind so hearing him talk about having fun each week seems a bit odd. However you take the advice to heart. Anything he has to offer you want to remember. “I actually am sir. I was going out to have a drink with the rest of the team.” As you say this you suddenly realize that he may not have already been invited. Feeling guilty you offer a smile. “Did you plan on coming as well?” By the look on his face you can tell that he is unaware of the event however he doesn’t seem upset.

“No but thank you for asking. I need to go home and get some rest.”

“Of course. That’s a very smart decision. If you ever want to though ... go out for a drink with us, I mean. You’re always more than welcome in my book.” The genuine kindness in your eyes when you look at him causes Aaron’s heart to clench and for some reason, this time he doesn’t try to stop it. God, how can one person be so good?

“I appreciate the gesture. I’ll keep that in mind next time,” The two of you stare deeply into one another and for a moment, just one brief fleeting moment, you are just a man and a woman filled with yearning. It passes quickly and you convince yourself that it didn’t even happen. “Go, enjoy your free afternoon and have fun this evening. It’s important for you to bond with your team members.”

“Thank you sir.” As you’re about to leave he stops you one last time.

“One more thing,” There is a second of hesitation. “You don’t have to call me sir all the time. A bit of formality when we’re on the job is appropriate but you can just call me Hotch. Everyone does.”

“Got it. In that case I hope you have a good evening Hotch.” When you step out of his office you can feel your heart beating rapidly. Every time you start to get your feelings in check he looks at you like that and you melt at his feet. It’s nothing but a stupid crush though. You’ll get over it. It’s not like he has feelings for you anyway so there’s no point in entertaining a fantasy. As lovely a fantasy as it is.

“Hey, Y/N,” Emily stops you as you make your way towards Morgan’s desk. “I wanted to tell you, really great job on this case. The work you did was great. You should feel very proud of yourself.”

“Oh, thank you. I appreciate that.” You nod in gratitude.

“Of course. I’m excited to see what you can do in the field. If you’re that good in an office you’re gonna be a force out in the world.”

“I’m excited too. Hopefully I don’t disappoint any of you.”

“You won’t. We’re all on your side here. No matter what happens, we all just want to help you be successful. I promise.”

“That ... makes me feel a lot better actually. Thanks.” She gives you a kind smile, pushing back away from her desk to face you.

“Absolutely. Hey, are you coming out with us tonight?”

“Yeah, Morgan invited me earlier. I was actually about to go get the address from him since I’m headed out for the day.” She doesn’t say anything for a moment, frozen as if she’s buffering.

“Hotch is letting you leave early?”

“Yeah. I finished all my work with Garcia so he’s letting me go.”

“Well, whatever you did to get on his good side, keep it up.” She jokes, turning back to her own paperwork. The continued mention of Hotch’s graciousness with you threatens to go to your head but you fight to keep your daydreaming in check.

“When I figure out what the secret is I’ll let you know.” You kid back before leaving her to continue her work. Morgan seems to be almost finished when you make your way back over to him. Upon seeing you hovering he stops briefly to look up at you. The look on your face tells him everything he needs to know and he lets out a chuckle.

“No way. He’s really letting you leave?” Giving him nothing more than a nod you shift your weight as you watch him grab a piece of paper and write down the address. “I guess you earned this fair and square then. We’ll all meet up at eight. Sound okay?”

“For sure. See you then.” With a smile you stroll out the main doors.

++++++++++

As soon as you step in the door you drop your things to the floor and flop onto the couch. It has been a very short day and yet you feel a strange weight on your shoulders. Hearing everyone’s disbelief at the idea of Hotch being so relaxed with you had sent your mind spiraling with thoughts. Even though you know it was nothing it is hard not to entertain the ideas that come to your head. With a frustrated sigh you push yourself up and head for the bathroom.

Once you step inside your small shower the pressure of the warm water on your back immediately makes you slump over with relief. The strange sense of tension in your body melts away with each droplet as they disappear down the drain. Reveling in the feeling, you take a bit longer than normal to enjoy the time to yourself. After being clean you feel that you can no longer justify lingering in the water so you turn the knob and step out to dry off. The soft material of the towel elevates the feeling of relaxation in your body.

Throwing a robe on you make your way to the bedroom, flinging yourself onto the bed with your phone in hand. Suddenly feeling very mischievous you take an adorably flirtatious picture of yourself in your robe, well cleaned and blissful, which you send to Garcia.

Having fun all alone at work Pen?

I think that I hate you.

The response makes you giggle as you head out to the kitchen to grab a snack. There is a chocolate bar on the top shelf that you’ve forgotten about which you happily grab before plopping down on the couch. Turning the tv on to your favorite station you sit there, impatiently waiting for eight. The day feels impossibly long but once you see that it’s seven you decide to get dressed.

After several minutes of trying to figure out what to wear you decide to keep things casual. You’re not at work tonight. It’s just you and the team spending time together as friends, not agents. The thought alone makes you smile. After a bit longer you figure it’s a good time to head out and make your way to your car. Typing the address into your GPS you pull out and make the drive to the bar Morgan told you to meet at. It is surprisingly close to your apartment complex. When you step inside the building it seems to be fairly empty. There is no sign of the others yet so you make your way over to a table to wait. Cursing your preparedness you fidget with your shirt until you hear the doors open, announcing the arrival of the others.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Morgan immediately calls out upon seeing you. With a smile you stand to meet him as he wraps you up in a hug.

“Hey! Nice of you to show up.” You add jokingly, turning your attention quickly to the others. Emily steps forward next and also gives you a hug. JJ follows with a sweet smile. Spencer offers a handshake, as has become the custom between the two of you. Garcia pushes her way to the front and nearly suffocates you before letting you go with a laugh. At the back of the group is Rossi. His presence is mildly surprising to you but you offer him a small smile. Seeing him brings to mind the recent conversation you have had with your sister but you push those thoughts aside. Rather than embracing you he places a gentle hand on your arm.

“It’s nice to see you again.” He adds, trying to alleviate the tension.

“Yeah, likewise. I know we haven’t really had a chance to talk to one another yet. Hopefully we can clear that up tonight!”

“Sounds nice.” With a nod, you turn back towards the others. They all take up residence at the table you had already picked out. Squeezing in between Garcia and Morgan, you can’t help but smile shyly at the people around you. They immediately strike up conversation, talking like the oldest of friends. Just being amongst them means so much to you. Hearing your name you are drawn back out of your thoughts.

“Sorry what?” There is a uniform chuckle from the group.

“I asked if you wanted something to drink?” Emily speaks up.

“Oh yeah. Sorry.” She starts standing but Rossi stops her.

“Actually, let me get this one,” The action causes you to look between the two, a strange feeling in your chest. “What’re you having?” After telling him your drink order he disappears with a nod. The others continue the conversation as though nothing has happened and you quickly rejoin them. When Rossi comes back over he hands your drink to you first and then passes drinks around to the others.

As the night goes on you share moments with everyone, getting to know them better and allowing them to know you. Emily and you discuss the stresses of being a woman in this field and she gives you several pieces of advice to stay afloat, which you always appreciate. Spencer recommends some pieces of literature to you which you take mental note of. JJ and you get into a conversation about your sisters, confiding in one another as you share stories. Morgan makes light hearted jokes with you as you talk about some of your favorite movies together. Garcia doesn’t do much talking but she does pull you away from the table to dance when one of her favorite songs comes on. Rossi doesn’t talk much either, instead choosing to sit back and watch with a look that seems to be fatherly pride.

After a while of dancing with Morgan and Garcia you decide to go sit back down, a wide smile on your face. At the table Emily, JJ, and Spencer seem to be in a heated discussion about chess. Deciding to leave them alone you instead make your way to sit down next to Rossi. As you do so he smiles at you warmly.

“Having fun?” He inquires, glancing at you briefly.

“Yeah. I really am. It’s really nice getting to spend time with all of you like this. I feel like I’ve been waiting all my life to be part of a family like this and now that I am it’s like I just can’t get enough.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’ve heard some people say we can’t choose our families but nights like this just go to show how wrong that is.”

“Yeah, exactly.” With that, the two of you sit in content silence. The quietness between the two of you leaves time to think. Your sister’s words continue to ring in your head as you wrack ever corner of your memory for how you might possibly know the man sitting next to you. With a sigh of frustration you come up completely blank. As you ponder this you also begin to wonder if he might be having the same thoughts and decide there’s no way to find out without asking.

“So, I hope this doesn’t sound too weird but I’ve been thinking about this since we first met. I just have the strange feeling that you and I know each other somehow but I just can’t recall where from.” It all comes out at once as you shift in your seat to look at Rossi. When you say this he allows himself a moment to think before responding.

“That’s not weird at all. I’ve been thinking the same thing. There is something about you that is so familiar but I just can’t quite remember how I know you.” Hearing him say this helps to validate your confusion and you offer him a kind smile.

“Well, I guess we know each other now. That’s what’s important, right?” In his eyes there is that same sense of fatherly joy and it causes a pang of sadness to creep into your chest for a moment. Quickly deciding that it’s better to just enjoy it rather than dwell in the past, you nod slowly. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Anytime kiddo. I’m glad we do know each other now.”

With that you mutually decide the conversation is over and you stand with a stretch. Morgan and Garcia seem to be the drunkest of anyone at this point and you laugh as you watch them stumble all over each other as they “dance”. Emily, JJ, and Spencer still seem to be deep in conversation. Looking at the time you decide that it’s probably best for you to turn in for the night. “Hey guys.” You raise your voice slightly so they can all hear you as you make your way over to them.

“I think I should probably head home.” They collectively whine for a minute which causes you to laugh. “It’s okay, I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” Seeming satisfied with this answer they all get up to hug you as you thank them for a fun evening and head outside. Rossi sticks to your side and walks out the front doors with you.

“Would it be okay if I drove you home? I feel wrong about sending you home alone after you’ve been drinking.”

“Yeah, that would be okay. I actually only live a few minutes from here anyway.” With a nod he heads back towards the bar. As you make your way over to your car you can here him call inside to the others.

“Don’t any of you even think about setting foot inside a car yet. I’ll be back in a few minutes to drive you home.” With a chuckle you unlock the door and step inside. He slips into the driver’s seat and you give him directions back to your apartment. The drive is silent and quick. When you arrive you thank him as you both step out.

“Wait, how are you gonna get back?” You say, realizing that you’ve stranded him at your apartment complex since he took your car.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be alright. You get inside and get some rest.” With another expression of gratitude you head upstairs and make your way into your apartment. Stripping as you make your way to the bedroom you flop down on the bed, unable to keep your eyes open.

++++++++++

This morning you are awake bright and early, surprisingly ready to start your day. By this point you’ve begun to get into a routine before you head out for work. Your clothes are always laid out on the chair and your work materials are on the kitchen table. You make a quick breakfast then give your sister a quick good morning phone call before heading out the door and showing up to work promptly at five.

When you step inside the building this morning you are one of the first people there. Setting your things down at your desk you head over to the coffee machine, deciding an extra little boost might not be so bad. After setting it up you wait patiently for it to brew. A few minutes later you are very aware of a presence next to you. When you look back over your shoulder you are greeted by Hotch, seemingly very awake and as professional as ever.

“Good morning, Y/N.” The sound of your first name on his tongue doesn’t escape your attention as you take a small breath.

“Morning Hotch,” Hearing yourself say his name is equally as pleasant to you as you revel in the blooming bond between you.

“How was your evening?” Thinking back to the night you shared with your other team members you can’t help but smile.

“It was really wonderful. I had a great time. It was nice getting a chance to learn more about everyone. It really makes me feel connected ... like I’m truly a part of the team. You know?”

“I do. I’m very happy to hear that you had a good time.” With a nod, you look back down for a moment as you think of what to say.

“How did you sleep last night? I hope you were able to rest.”

“I slept well, thank you. I spent the evening with my son, Jack.” Hearing this takes you aback. The fact that he has a son is news to you. It’s not bad news, just a bit surprising. However, the more you think about it the more fitting it seems that he would have a kid.

“That sounds lovely. I didn’t know you had a son.”

“Yes, he’s two now. The nights I get to spend with him are always some of the best.” The thought of Hotchner taking care of a young baby sends a warm feeling spiraling through your chest.

“I can imagine,” You say, unable to hold back a small smile. “I don’t have any children but if I did ... god, they’d be my world.”

As much as you try not to think about it, for the briefest moment an image of you and Aaron laying in bed with a few babies of your own flashes in your mind. Scolding yourself harshly you erase the image and turn back towards the coffee machine. You look away just in time to miss the same dreamy look cross over Aaron’s face as the exact same vision passes through his own thoughts. It’s these moments of silence between the two of you that dare you to dream. It isn’t awkward. It has all the familiarity and comfort of a silence shared between two people that have known each other all their lives.

“That’s exactly how it feels. He means everything to me. He is the biggest thing that makes this job worthwhile. I want him to look back on his life when he’s older and be proud of the man his dad was.”

“Jack will always be proud of who his dad is. That’s a feeling that doesn’t fade over time. At least, not when you know he loves you. And when you know you love him. I’ve never--” There is a brief moment of hesitation as you wonder whether or not you should continue your train of thought. “I’ve always been proud of who my dad was. I always will be, no matter how much time passes. It’s one of the biggest things I remember about him. How much I loved him. That’s a hard feeling to forget. Jack won’t forget either.”

In this moment, Aaron Hotchner has never wanted to embrace someone so badly. Every fiber of his being is itching to reach out and touch you, to pull you close, kiss the top of your head, tell you that everything will be alright, tell you how sorry he is that you lost your dad, thank you for comforting him, caress your face, tenderly press his lips to yours, and just hold you. But he can’t. So he doesn’t.

“Thank you. That’s nice to hear.” Is all he can muster before he falls silent again. Content with this, you stay silent as well as you both simply enjoy each other’s company. A few minutes later the coffee is finished brewing and you pull the pot out to pour some for yourself and Hotch. With a nod of gratitude he makes his way back up to his office, leaving you there alone but strangely full and warm.

Needing a distraction you head back to your desk and begin pulling paperwork out of some nearby drawers to begin filing. You keep yourself occupied like this for a few more minutes before the other agents begin entering the bullpen. Morgan ruffles your hair as he passes by you causing you to punch him. The others come in, talking amongst themselves and greeting you warmly as they pass by. You quickly join in on the conversation as you all begin your work.

Pretty soon JJ disappears to her own office and Garcia disappears to hers, leaving you, Morgan, Emily, and Spencer to do your own paperwork. Things remain uneventful as you look over your materials, stopping every now and again to ask Morgan a question. As you do your work you can’t help but glance up towards Hotch’s office every once in awhile. Your interaction with him had been very strangely intimate and you almost wanted to speak with him more about it but you knew that both of you had things to do. And even if you didn’t it was in the past and didn’t need to be dredged up again. It’s better this way. Around lunchtime you head down to Garcia’s office, joining her for some light hearted conversation. She has also packed you some snacks she knows you love and the gesture warms your heart. It is a very pleasant afternoon, feeling reminiscent of the time you spent shut up in her office on this last case.

After a while you decide to head back up to your desk to continue your work. The day is passing fairly slowly until JJ suddenly draws your attention and calls you into the conference room. There is a new case that you all need to be prepped for. Now everything around you is passing at lightning speed. Preparing your things you head up to the conference room with the others, buzzing with excitement. When you step inside you realize you’ve never been in this room before. In an instant you are flooded with the gravity of what you’re doing. This is the culmination of years and years worth of hard work and you are finally being presented the chance to do what you’ve always wanted to do. It is both liberating and completely terrifying.

JJ begins her debriefing very succinctly, telling you all the facts of the case. You listen intently, absorbing every single piece of information she gives to you. The others pitch in when the moment is right but you remain silent as you simply take in what everyone is saying. Several gruesome images are pulled up on the screen in front of you and for the first time since you’ve stepped foot in this building your stomach turns. Six homeless people have been murdered in the Phoenix area. Their bodies have all been left in widely public places with various messages written on their skin with blood. All the messages are different but point to someone with a serious hatred for big corporations. They have all been left in different parts of Phoenix, leaving a wide geographical profile which will pose a challenge. Once the debriefing is finished Hotch is the first to speak.

“You all know the drill. Wheels up in thirty.” Everyone nods and begins heading for their desks. You follow closely, pulling your go bag out of your bottom desk drawer. Checking inside to make sure you have everything you need, you gather the rest of your things and head towards the doors. As you stand at the threshold you feel a hand on your shoulder. Once again you are met with Hotch’s intense gaze though his expression seems strangely soft.

“Y/N, I want to make sure you feel ready to get into the field. I know this will be your first case with the rest of the team and I want you to be prepared. This won’t be pretty and it will take a lot out of you.”

“I’m ready, Hotch. I was ready the moment I walked through these doors.” Keeping his eyes locked on yours he responds with a nod before walking away. You head in the direction of the jet, steadying yourself. This is your big moment to prove yourself. To Hotch, to the team, and to yourself. You are ready. You’ve been ready for a long time now and nothing is going to stop you from getting out there and putting whoever is doing this away. Determination fills you with every step you take. No matter what happens, you will not fail.

Tags: @talesfromtheguild @lannister-slings-and-arrows @gryffindorwriter @nopeforyou @sheerfreesia007 @roxypeanut @ohpedromypedro @ssahotchie @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @the-mechanical-angel @races-erster @maxlordd @pascalisthepunkest @paintballkid711 @hotchafterhours @h0tchner @ssahotchswife @ssahotchhner @technotic-prophecy @klinenovakwinchester @hotch-stufff @annadorothxa @canadailluminate @yoshigguk @gothicxbarbie @romanogersendgame @little-diable

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maybe-theres-hope · 3 years ago

Text

Tarlos Fic - Dinner Date

3.2k | T | Warnings: Blood, Injuries (mostly minor) | Contains: Judd/Carlos friendship, Tarlos being perfect, blue Camaro (rip)

Read on AO3

“So, what are your plans for the night?” Nancy asked as they exited the ambulance, their shift nearly over as long as the bell didn’t go off in the next ten minutes.

TK smiled to himself for a moment before he spoke. “Well, Carlos is taking me to Jeffrey’s, so…”

“Holy mother,” Nancy breathed, looking at him with obvious envy. “Do you guys have a ten year anniversary or something coming up? Did he get some kind of commendation at work? Because I know your last one was like a month ago, so.”

“No, no anniversary, that’s in a couple of months. And its three years, Nance.” He chose to ignore her muttering about their mushiness ‘aging me ten years’. “And nothing from work that I know of. Maybe he just loves me?” TK couldn’t stop grinning while they stocked the bus and readied for the handover.

“He loves you crap ton! Their wagyu strip steak is a hundred and twenty-five dollars!” Nancy had her phone out, obviously googling the menu.

“Well at least we’ll save money on wine,” TK said with a chuckle.

“I’ve heard of the place by reputation but like, dude, who ever gets the chance to actually go there?”

“TK it seems,” Tommy cut in. “Why don’t you go on? We got it here and you’re gonna need at least an hour to pick out an outfit.”

“And gel your hair. You and your dad are way more alike than you want to admit,” Nancy added with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You sure, Cap? I can stay and help?”

“I’m sure, kiddo. Go get dolled up for your man. Eat a few bites for us, yeah?” Tommy yelled at his retreating figure. She and Nancy looked at each other with grins as they caught the little skip in his step.

“So, what do you think the occasion is?”

Tommy looked back at Nancy with a gleam in her eye. “I can wager a guess, but I don’t want to jinx it.” Nancy just gave her a look and went back to restocking.

Around 8 p.m., Owen was sitting in his office toying with his phone in his hand, smiling at his last text exchange.

we’re just leaving the house now, wish me luck!

you’re not gonna need it, kid :)

“Not if I know my son anyway,” Owen said aloud to the empty room. He wondered if it’d happened yet. No incoherent string of emoji’s from TK yet, so he doubted it.

He was shoving the phone back into his pocket with the bell went off.

“Alright guys,” Owen said into the mic from the Captain’s chair. “Dispatch says three vehicles involved, two still on the road and one went over the side into the ravine. Police are on their way but we’ll probably beat ‘em there. Strickland, Marwani, soon as we get there I want you to harness up and get down in that ravine. Judd, you too. You’ll be in command down there and I’ll stay up top with the other two vehicles. Everybody else you’re with me, got it?”

A chorus of “Copy that, Cap,” and suddenly they were on the scene.

“Marjan, Paul, we’re goin’ down!” Judd called to them as the rest of the crew went over to the silver Prius and black Mazda that were crumpled in the middle of the two-lane highway. Judd wasn’t a prayin’ man, but he sent up a little something to the man upstairs that this went their way. It looked bad.

Paul arrived at his side first, strapped into his gear. “Marjan’s grabbing the bag from the truck, she’s coming.”

“Alright. We’ll go down this way,” Judd said, pointing to a safe-ish stretch of hillside. “Can’t see the other car from here but dispatch said bystanders saw it go over. Probably just hidden in the trees.”

“Okay guys, let’s do this!” Marjan called, harnessed and carrying the medical bag and a backboard. “TK’s gonna be sad he missed this. Medical doesn’t get to harness up a lot and I know he loved it. He coulda helped.”

“Nah, he’s got better things tonight. Carlos was takin’ him to Jeffrey’s,” Paul said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Ohh, fancy,” Marjan said with a smile. “What’s the occasion?”

They’d reached the bottom and were starting to look through the brush and low-hanging trees for a vehicle.

“Don’t know,” Paul answered. “But I think Cap’s in on it somehow.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Judd cut in as he whacked a few branches out of his way. “Carlos came by the station a few weeks ago, and they sat up in Cap’s office for an hour before he left grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ a sweet tater.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Paul said with a laugh.

“Hey guys, look!” Marjan called from a few yards to the left. The other two went to her position and saw what she’d found. A track in the underbrush where it had been torn at and flattened. “Think this is the place.”

“Let’s go,” said Judd. They followed the path through the brush for a couple of yards before they caught sight of it: taillights. “Alright, Marjan you go on the passenger side, I got the driver. Paul you see if you can clear some of that brush off the back in case the doors are jammed and we gotta get ‘em out that’a way.”

Visibility was still low despite the lights of the car and their flashlights, but as they approached they saw the car wrapped around the trunk of a tree on the passenger side. “I don’t know if I can get in there, Judd, but I’ll try,” Marjan said as she broke out into a jog.

“Wait!” Paul cried. Judd looked over at him, and he would have said such a thing couldn’t happen to a calm and collected person like Paul, but his face had gone ashen. “That’s Carlos’s car,” he said on a breath.

“What?” In the dark, now that he was really looking, he could see they were coming up on—what used to be—a blue Camaro.

“I’m sure of it. TK bullied him into putting that sticker on the back because he said it was too pristine and it needed personality.” He shone his flashlight at the rear bumper and sure enough, there was a SXSW sticker half ripped off from the path the car had taken to get there.

“Come on,” Judd said, heart rate kicking up.

“Should we call Cap?” Paul asked.

“No, we stay down here and do our jobs, and he stays up there and does his. We’ll get ‘em.” His voice sounded numb even to his own ears, but he was determined.

“They were on their way to dinner,” Paul said lowly.

“Yeah, probably takin’ the backroads to avoid traffic,” Judd said, shaking his head. Fate was hell sometimes.

When they reached the car, Marjan was yelling. “TK! TK can you hear me?” She turned to Judd. “I can’t get in there. The tree trunk is halfway into the car, probably pinning him to the console. He’s unresponsive.” Her face was also pale, but determined.

Judd went to the driver’s side and saw Carlos, head hanging to the side facing the broken window. He tried the door as he called out. “Carlos? Hey Carlos, come on buddy. Can you hear me?” The door wouldn’t budge; Judd figured the car had rolled a couple of times coming down the hill, crumpling it like a tin can. Then he heard a soft groan.

He looked up, and one of Carlos’s eyes was trying to open. The other was swollen shut, where he’d probably hit his head on the steering wheel before the airbag deployed. Half his face had burn marks from it.

“Hey, hey Carlos, look at me, that’s it.” That one eye tracked around before it landed on Judd, drawn to the light of the flashlight on his helmet. “Hey man. We’re gonna get you out okay? Now, can you move your fingers and toes for me?” Judd stuck his head into the window to see down in the floor boards. “Alright, likely no spinal damage. How’s your head?”

“Hurts. Shoulder, too.” His voice was barely audible.

“Okay, it looks like you dislocated it,” Judd said as he prodded his left shoulder. “I don’t see anything broken but we’ll have to get you out to determine that.”

“TK—“ a wheeze, “TK…first. Been out…a while.”

Judd peered over to the passenger side, where TK was shoved almost fully into the center console, head laid back on the headrest and his face covered in blood. Marjan and Paul were still hard at work outside trying to clear a path into the car.

“We can’t get to his side just yet, but we can get you out first and then we’ll be able to pull him out this way, okay? We wanna focus on you right now.”

“Alive.”

“Yeah, you’re alive, Carlos. You’re not gonna leave us yet,” he said as he assessed the door panels where they could cut through with the saws they brought.

“No. TK. Weak, but…alive,” Carlos breathed out, coughing through the end.

“We’ll make sure he’s alive, okay?” Judd said, trying not to lose his professionalism at this whole messed up situation.

“He is.” Judd stopped looking around and looked back at Carlos. The man raised his right hand just as much as he was able, showing where he had two fingers on TK’s radial pulse.

“Good, that’s good Carlos,” Judd assured him. That meant Carlos had had some minutes of consciousness after the accident before they showed up. “Was he talking at all? After you hit the tree?”

“Little. Minutes, maybe.”

“That’s good, that’ll help. Alright Carlos, we’re gonna get this door off so I’m gonna cover you with this while we do okay?” Judd waited for a small nod before he covered Carlos’s face and torso with his own turnout coat.

After an agonizing four minutes, the door popped off in a shower of metal and broken glass. Judd removed the coat and went back in to assess. “Carlos? How you doin’?”

“Tired. But won’t…sleep. Promise. That’s bad.”

“You learn a few things from your Paramedic boyfriend?” Judd said with a watery smile.

“Mmm.”

“Judd, I got the back cleared. Maybe we can get in there to at least check TK’s vitals,” Paul informed them.

“Get on it, I’ma try to get Carlos here out onto this backboard. Marjan, radio for another backboard and have two RA’s ready to go topside!”

“Copy that!” Judd had to admire those two. They never let their professionalism slip too far, though he could see they were worried sick. He could relate. He wouldn’t relax until both of the boys were back up the hill and on the way to the hospital.

From the looks of things, maybe not even then. But he had hope.

“Alright, Carlos, I’m gonna grab your legs and behind your shoulders here and pull you out, okay? It’s gonna hurt like hell, but it’ll be quick.”

“Wait.”

Judd stopped cold.

“Left…pocket. Please.”

“You want me to get at your left pocket?” A nod. “Alright, hang on.”

Judd carefully shifted Carlos’s leg so he could reach into his slacks, which had probably been part of a very nice suit at the beginning of the night. His fingers searched until they hit a small bump, an object no bigger than a baseball, soft velvet over a hard shell. He sucked his lips between his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he pulled it free in his hand.

“Keep it…safe…for me?”

Judd looked down at the little black box for a moment, then clutched it tight in his hand before transferring it one of the innermost pockets of his turnout.

“Of course, man. I will guard this with my life.” He looked up and saw Marjan coming back with another backboard. “Alright, buddy. It’s go time.”

Carlos gave a weak nod and winced when Judd started to pull.

“Welcome back, man. You had us worried there for a bit.”

Carlos opened his good eye to see Judd sitting at his bedside, smiling softly. It took a moment to remember where he was. Hospital. Accident. Tree.

“TK—“

“Is fine. Banged up and will need crutches for a few weeks, not to mention a killer headache with no meds, but he’s fine. All things considered.”

“Where is he?”

“On his way, so you just stay put, okay? You’re pretty banged up, too, ya’know.”

Carlos shifted a bit and winced. His left arm was in a sling, his head bandaged over his left eye, and his right side hurt like hell.

“Broken rib when the tree went into TK’s door, door went into TK, TK went into the console, then the console went into you. He’s got a femoral fracture in his right leg but like I said, all things considered, you’re both pretty well off for how far you fell and probably rolled.”

“Yeah, he said his leg had gone numb but he could still move his toes. He made sense for about five minutes, then started talking all jumbled, then went quiet. I uh…freaked out a bit after that. I thought he had…” Carlos trailed off, looking haunted.

“Yeah, and you kept your fingers on his pulse that whole time. What you were able to tell us at the scene helped us treat him. You did good, Carlos.”

“Not good enough to swerve in time,” he said.

“Not your fault. And don’t you dare go thinkin’ it is. I don’t wanna hear it, Carlos,” Judd said in what TK called his Dad Voice. Stern and no room for argument. Carlos just nodded.

“And uh, hey. I been waitin’ to give this back to you.” Judd stood and walked over to the bed, holding out a tiny black box. Carlos took it and cradled it against his chest. “It better be a nice one, cuz I about had a heart attack while I was showerin’ thinkin’ someone was gonna come get my pile a’clothes and take ‘em to the laundry while I was gone.”

“You didn’t open it?”

“Nah, I figure the big reveal? TK deserves that all to himself.”

“Owen’s seen it,” Carlos countered, smirking.

“Uh huh. He approve?”

Carlos laughed. “He whistled and said I spent too much.”

“To impress the Cap it must be a lot,” Judd said with a small whistle of his own.

“Well, what was it Michael Scott said? Three years’ salary?”

Judd’s eyes almost popped out of his head, and Carlos laughed harder before wincing again at his broken rib. “I’m kidding, Judd. But I can tell you, no matter the cost, TK deserves the best and that’s what I hope I got.”

“You gonna make another reservation? Soon as y’all get back into fightin’ shape?”

Carlos looked down at the box again for a moment, contemplating. “I…don’t think so.”

Judd had a confused expression on his face but at that moment, a nurse was wheeling TK into the room, followed by most of the 126. Carlos’s face lit up like starlight at the sight of him.

“Hey, babe,” TK said with a smile. His leg was in a full cast, so the nurse was careful in maneuvering him around to Carlos’s bedside.

“Hey, I feel like you should be the one in bed! Why are you out and about?”

“Because you were still asleep and he’s an absolute menace. We made multiple apologies to the staff on his behalf for the last hour,” Owen said as he walked into the room behind his crew. “He’s a stubborn little shit. Always has been, always will be. You sure you’re up for that?” He asked knowingly. TK was still looking at Carlos, blushing at his dad’s ribbing. Carlos met his eyes and said, “Yes.” He blushed more.

“In fact,” Carlos continued. “I’m ready to get started. I’ve waited too long anyway. I mean, how many times do you and I have to beat death before I get the nerve to do this?” He said, looking into TK’s beautiful eyes which were looking confused.

“What are you talking about, babe?”

“Look, I’m sorry this didn’t go how I planned. And I’m sorry I can’t get down on one knee right now, but. I hope you love me enough not to mind.” He lifted his good arm, his hand holding out the box. “A little help, Judd?”

“It’d be an honor,” the man said before leaning in and opening the box, since Carlos only had one good arm.

At the sight of the contents of the box, TK’s eyes went as big as saucers. Surprise was written clearly over every inch of his features, which were all still beautiful even scarred and stitched up as they were at the moment. God, Carlos loved this man so much.

“Tyler Kennedy Strand, you are the love of my life. I tried so many different scenarios in my head of how this speech would go, before I just said screw it, I’ll speak from the heart. You’re kind, funny, sexy, sweet, and everything in between. You can’t boil water and you absolutely can’t properly separate laundry. I have a dozen pink shirts as proof of that.” At this, the gathered group chuckled and TK went bright red. “Ah, but you also know just how to ease the tension from a long day just by hugging me on the doorstep. And I can always count on you to be there for me when the world gets too much, when what we see out there creeps in too far. And I want you to know, that I want to be that for you too, for the rest of our lives. So, TK. Will you marry me?”

The room was silent, apart from the hum and beeps of the machines. Everyone on the edge of their proverbial seats, but no one having any doubt to the outcome.

“Oh, my God! Of course I’ll marry you! Yes, yes! Yes!” The last was said through TK’s fingers covering his red face, hiding the few tears that had started to fall. He held out his left hand to Carlos, who Judd had kindly helped by removing the ring from its box and handing it back to him. He slid it over TK’s finger, smiling like an idiot the whole time, barely registering the whoops and hollers of the 126 throughout the room.

He only had eyes for TK.

“I love you,” TK breathed through his happy tears.

“I love you too, baby. Always.”

“Oh, my God, dude, were you seriously surprised?” Nancy asked incredulously once the commotion had died down.

“Well…yeah? I didn’t expect this at all,” TK said, looking sheepish.

“TK…my dude…he was taking you to Jeffrey’s! How could you not know?”

Once again, the room erupted in laughter and TK ducked his head again. Carlos reached out and touched his chin, catching his eyes again.

There was nothing but love there.

CLEARLY every Tarlos fic I write has to have a proposal in it *shrug emoji*

Also I wrote this in like an hour after I had a dream so please excuse any typos I didn’t catch!

Please reblog if you liked it! I would really really appreciate it :) Thank you for reading!

#tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star #brooke writes

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years ago

Note

hooray for open ask box! how about Martyn, or Etho, or Ren seeing Skizz’s ghost on the altar?

hell yeah i love writing about Skizz, even in death :D

cw blood, dead body

…

Less than a day after Skizz’s abrupt death, Martyn returns to the crastle alone, with a sombre mission. His stomach drops when he sees Skizz’s body hanging upside down over the ramparts, exactly where it fell the moment Skizz died. It’s horrifying to see the blood still dripping down the walls of the crastle, the gaping wound in his chest clearly visible.

An arrow shoots into the ground at his feet just in front of the drawbridge, causing him to stop.

“What business do you have here, Red Army scum?” snarls Bdubs’s voice.

Martyn carefully lays his sword and shield on the ground, before standing back up with his hands raised to show he’s no longer armed. “I come in peace and I come alone.”

A pause follows this.

Martyn looks up and finds Bdubs’s face just visible through a slit window. Another face can be seen through the slit window just to the left but this one is less visible, so Martyn can’t identify who it is. He suspects it might be Impulse.

“What do you want?” Bdubs demands, though his voice is less hostile than before.

“All I want is to retrieve Skizzle’s body so we can bury him.”

Another pause.

This time, a different voice comes from the castle: “His body stays here.”

“Scott-,” Martyn begins.

“No, I’m not budging.” Scott’s voice is full of grief and anger. “He killed my husband and my friend. I want his body displayed exactly where it is. You’re lucky Grian and Bdubs talked me out of slicing his head off and displaying it on a stake.”

Nausea rises in Martyn’s throat at the grisly image. “Please,” he says, almost begging. “He died in battle just like Timmy and Cleo; he deserves a proper burial. We… We need to say goodbye to him.”

“Do it here,” Scott snarls, “cuz I’m not budging.”

Bdubs’s face disappears from the slit window, but his voice is still just about audible to Martyn on the ground. “Scott, I think we should give them Skizz’s body.”

“What?!” Scott’s voice snaps back. “Why would you even consider that?! Don’t you care that he murdered your best friend?!”

“Yes, but I’m not thinking of Skizz,” responds Bdubs. “I’m thinking of Cleo. She’s been avenged already, Scott. Jimmy’s been avenged. Do you really think either of them would want us to deny him being laid to rest, despite everything he did? What’s the purpose of that? Skizz is dead, Scott, and seeing his body on display is only going to remind us of our losses every time we look at it. In order to start healing, you gotta let go of your anger.”

Bdubs’s voice cracks and he says something else that Martyn can’t quite hear.

Martyn waits anxiously, wondering what will happen. He’s half expecting Scott to just shoot him there and then, or at the very least destroy Skizz’s body out of bitterness and anger.

But eventually, the door to the crastle opens and Bdubs appears, holding a crossbow at his side. “You can come in and get it,” he says. “Tango will help you take it back to Dogwarts.”

Martyn lets out a quiet sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

As he crosses the drawbridge, Bdubs gives him an odd look. “You’re really okay with walking into the enemy base on your own with no weapons? What if this was a trap and we just killed you right here?”

“I did consider that possibility,” Martyn admits. “But I decided that my mission is more important.”

Bdubs nods slowly. “Okay. Fair enough.”

Martyn follows Bdubs up to the first floor, where Tango is already starting to pull Skizz’s body inside. Now that he’s closer, Martyn can see that Skizz’s eyes are still open, so he kneels beside his body and gently closes them.

“We can use one of the coffins outside to transport him,” says Tango, his voice low and serious. “And you can keep it to bury him in.”

“Thank you,” says Martyn. “After we bury him, you’re welcome to visit his grave whenever you wish.”

“What about me?” Impulse asks quietly, standing on the upper staircase.

Martyn turns and looks him dead in the eye. “Like I said. Tango, you’re welcome to visit anytime.”

Impulse blanches as Tango nods gratefully.

…

It takes the two of them less than ten minutes to carry the coffin to Dogwarts. As they get close to its walls, Etho and Ren dash out to meet them.

Etho takes the burden from Tango, who steps aside to a safe distance, keeping a wary eye on Ren.

“Thank you for returning Skizzle to us,” Ren says, all hints of his former fake accent and overly dramatic tone gone.

“Of course. I hated seeing him left up there like that.”

“I know you can’t give anything away but can I just ask… how’s… how’s Impulse?” Etho asks hesitantly.

Tango briefly makes eye contact with him but has to look away. “I wouldn’t hold out any hope that he can be saved if I were you. He wasn’t just there when Skizz died; he watched him die and did nothing to help or comfort him. There’s no coming back from that.”

“Oh my god…” Ren breathes out, suppressing a shudder. “How did this happen, Tango? What turned him into such a monster?”

“Trust me, Ren…” Tango turns to face Ren, a sombre expression on his face. “...I wish I knew. Anyway, I’m gonna head back now. Give him a good sendoff.”

“We will,” promises Ren. “Thank you.”

Etho and Martyn carry the coffin into Dogwarts and to the site that they have already picked and prepared for the burial. All three of them lower the coffin into the freshly dug grave and then kneel down beside it: Etho to the left, Martyn to the right, and Ren directly in front.

“Today, we celebrate the life of our good friend and loyal ally Skizzleman,” Ren begins. “Right from the start, even before he fought for us in battle, he proved himself a dedicated friend to Renchanting. He provided me with shelter when I was nothing but a lowly travelling merchant. His leather made the book that created the first enchantment table we ever used. And his cobblestone helped build the walls of Dogwarts that still stand to this day. He took care of us, he fought for us, he killed for us, and in the end, he died for us.” He addresses the coffin directly. “Thank you, Skizzle. For everything.”

He clears his throat. “Does- Does anyone else have anything they want to say?”

Etho nods and gently tosses the allium he’s holding onto the coffin. “Nothing special, just… Thank you, Skizz. For always being there for me.”

“I have some things to say,” says Martyn quietly. “I honestly didn’t think much of Skizz at first. I thought he was a nice guy but not someone I could see myself even being friends with. But he became so much more than that. We shared the same drive, the same passion and commitment to our convictions. When the two of us were out there fighting, it was like we’d known each other for years. But most importantly, he would always put his life before others, even mine, and even after he turned red. He was fun to be around and he always made me laugh.” His voice cracks. “I’ll miss you, Skizz.”

Twirling the tulip he brought from outside, he drops it into the grave, on top of Etho’s allium.

Ren wordlessly starts to scoop dirt over the coffin, and Etho and Martyn join him. Finally, once the coffin is properly covered, Ren plants his flower - a poppy salvaged from Skizz’s destroyed home, over the top of it and sits back.

After a moment, he starts to sing softly: “Fill to me the parting glass, and drink a health whate'er befalls. And gently rise and softly call: good night and joy be to you all. But since it fell unto my lot, that I should rise and you should not, I gently rise and softly call: good night and joy be to you all.” (this song is The Parting Glass, sung by The High Kings)

This breaks the dam. Martyn hurriedly rises to his feet and flees towards the altar, tears falling freely from his eyes. He drops to his hands and knees in the centre of the stone platform, hanging his head and crying openly.

He hasn’t cried like this in a very VERY long time. It’s just so unfair to him that Skizz, one of the kindest people he knows, is gone so soon from the server. There’s so much he wishes he could have said back there. How he blames himself for not stopping Skizz from charging in there, how much he dreams of slaughtering Grian for taking Skizz away from them, how he wishes it was him who died instead. But he couldn’t manage it.

A chill suddenly runs down his spine, causing him to involuntarily look up.

His heart skips a beat.

Standing a few blocks away on the altar is the ghostly image of Skizzleman, back to normal except for a slight magenta tinge to him. He’s smiling kindly down at Martyn, his eyes sparking with a kind of energy that he hasn’t had for a long time.

He holds out his hand to Martyn, who hesitantly reaches for it. Despite not being able to touch it, something helps Martyn to his feet, some kind of invisible energy.

Martyn gazes into Skizz’s face and manages a smile. “Goodbye, Skizz,” he whispers. “Good luck.”

The words “you too” echo in Martyn’s ears, not spoken by anything of this world.

“Martyn,” calls Ren’s voice. “Are you coming?”

Martyn automatically turns to look at Ren. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

When he looks back, he’s alone on the altar.

#3rd life smp #3rdlifesmp #skizzleman #inthelittlewood #rendog #etho #tangotek #vaunna’s requests

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mashup-writing · 4 years ago

Note

Somebody else by 1975 and it is sparkles-✨

It worked out well; Park Chaeyoung (Blackpink)

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Summary: Y/N and Rosé had decided to announce their relationship, but they were gonna be extra about it.

Requested? ☑

"I remember it all too well."

--------------------٩(◕‿◕｡)۶--------------------

It was the final part of Y/N's concert and while he's used to the feeling of thousands of eyes on him, what's going to follow was something that made him extremely nervous, which says a lot. Especially when he was counting on the audience for his plan to work.

At the start of his career, he had announced that he was a Transgender man on all of his social media platforms. An action that took a lot of guts, and and an action that drew a lot of attention to him. At the rising point of his career when he was questioned about it in an interview, his answer was something that made him well known figure within the industry.

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

"Now Y/N at the very beginning of your career, you told the world that you were a trans man. That must've taken extreme bravery on your part seeing as those people who are against your community- The LGBT community, can be downright nasty and ruthless in 'Expressing' their dislike. What mae you decide to do this so early on in your time in the spotlight?"

Y/N smiles in his seat, switching from a laid back posture to one that elegantly demands attention, his next words being the ones that made him an icon amongst allies and LGBT people alike. "I am an advocate of LGBT rights before I am an artist, at the very start of my career I wanted to make it clear that I didn't want bigots to be a part of my following or an avid listener of my music and while I'm a man who values my privacy, I value honesty and transparency just as much. So if you're someone who believes that transgender people are just 'Confused' or that they're a 'Crime' against nature? Then go ahead and consider me your worst nightmare."

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

Y/N had been sitting on a chair for quite a few moments now, holding a Q&A onstage before he stands up and decides to follow through with the first part of his plan. "Alright, now today's intermission, I'm going to do a cover of my most favorite song called 'Somebody Else by The 1975'. Oh and don't worry you guys, the Q&A will still continue after this cover." The stadium fills with loud screams and cheers from the people watching as he places his mic back on its stand and goes to pick up his electric guitar. The lights dim into a sunset red as the opening notes of the music fill out through the speakers, Y/N starts singing and playing his guitar as the crowd claps along to the beat.

At the start of the second verse, Y/N takes off his guitar and takes the mic off of the stand, walking back to the guitar stand, he puts the instrument down before walking back to the front of the stage and hyping the people up to sing along with him in the pre-chorus. The entrance platform that had sunk back down starts rising as a distinctly feminine voice fills the stadium at the start of the chorus. Y/N smiles widely as the stage screens show Rosé walking towards him, offering her hand. He takes it and raises their hands up, leading the Blackpink member into a twirl, the crowd has gone wild at this point and the duo are pretty sure that somebody or multiple people in the audiences are Blinks seeing the way they've started chanting Rosé's name even without Y/N introducing her beforehand.

The bridge part comes along and the two singers alternate their lines. When the instrumental hits, Rosé takes his hands and starts dancing along to the beat, dorkily smiling and roping the man into dancing along. When the final chorus comes, Y/N and Rosé sing together, motioning for the crowd to sing along and the stadium fills with the sounds of music and the combined voices of a chanting crowd.

The song comes to an end with loud cheers for the two vocalists who are now smiling widely while catching their breaths. Y/N offers his hand to Rosé and when she takes it, the two raise their hands and perform a bow. He lets go of her hand once they've come up from the bow, turning to face her before speaking. "May I introduce, Park Chaeyoung of Blackpink everyone."

The woman in question laughs, shaking her head before going to bow once again and waving to the crowd with both hands, Y/N decides to push his luck. "Also known as Rosé of Blackpink, or Rosie, or Foodsé, or Chipm-" He runs as she jokingly tries to swat at his shoulder.

The cheers continue and the two laugh with each other before Rosè speaks to the crowd. "So how did you guys like our cover?" She's answered with loud cheers and Y/N's manager signals at the two from behind the curtain, raising both his hands up. 10 minutes left, Y/N nods at him and smiles while Rosé turns her attention back to the crowd, he gives the singers a thumbs up with a dorky smile before taking his leave. Y/N shakes his head in humor.

"I'm pretty sure I'm speaking for both me and Y/N over here when I say that we're happy to see you guys loved it." Y/N turns to Rosé to agree with her statement. Y/N speaks into the mic saying that he and Rosé will spend the last ten minutes of the concert for the Q&A. The following minutes fly by with questions aimed at Y/N, questions aimed at Rosé as well as questions aimed at both come in droves, until Y/N announce that the next question will be the last one before the event comes to an end and they have to start saying goodbye. Multiple people raise their hand, and he leaves it up to Rosé to pick who gets to ask the final question. She gives her mic to a girl in the front row, and the girl states her question.

"How did you come up with the idea to have Rosé make a special appearance for a cover? Going by your latest Instagram posts before this album dropped, it seemed like you guys were writing songs together. So we were really hyped for a collab." The fan hands the mic back to Rosé who smiles at Y/N as he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what's to come next. The Western singer brings his mic up to his lips to answer.

"There's a pretty good reason for this cover actually. 'Somebody Else' is a song that holds special meaning for the both of us, besides being our favorite song." Y/N motion for Rosé to take the lead, and she steps closer to him before speaking. "There was a point in me and Y/N's life that we didn't know where we stood. It a point we could sort of compare to the kid's game: Tag." She looks over to the man beside her, silently asking if he wants to back out of it. Instead Y/N takes her hand, interlocks their fingers and squeezes. Go on, I'm ready.

"Long story short is that I was hung up and broken hearted over this person and he was hung up over me." Collective gasps resound through out the stadium. After all, the only thing they know about you and Rosé relationship up until this point was that she was helping you write songs. You bring your mic up to your lips and speak. "The pictures on my Instagram of her looking at the lyrics I wrote? That wasn't Rosé helping me write. That was Chaeyoung reading what I wrote about her." The crowd goes crazy over the newfound information, and Y/N's pretty sure that they miss the way he referred to her using her real name instead of her stage name. But Chaeyoung catches onto it and she smiles softly at the man.

"I can't even begin to describe how thankful I am to Y/N by the way. Staying up countless nights and listening to me ramble on about being torn up, being there for me in every single way, helping me heal and doing all of this without expecting anything in return. Such a gentleman really." The crowd collectively 'Awwwwws' and Y/N hangs his head low, hiding his blush from everyone, Rosé laughs as Y/N looks at the ceiling, composing himself before speaking.

"I would never expect anything in return from you and you don't have to thank me either, I was just doing what a friend would've done at a time like that. Anyways, I stuck by her in those times all while all I could think of afterwards was how stupid the person who broke her heart was, all while I wished I was the one she had ended up with instead of them. I never even hinted at how I felt about her in those times, much less actually tell her. I promised myself I wouldn't tell her how I felt until the time was right. I didn't want her to feel guilty or pressured at all by what I had to say." Y/N looks from the crowd infront of him to Rosé before continuing "Time passed and her heartbreak had healed. But she still wasn't ready for a relationship for a while after that whole ordeal, so I kept my promise and I waited."

"When I had told my members and Y/N that I was finally ready for another relationship- That like, I was completely okay. Y/N decided to court me instead of asking me outright to be his girlfriend. Can you believe this sap?" The crowd laughs with Rosé as Y/N's jaw hits the floor, he walks away from Rosé and heads to the other side of the stage. He crouches and points to Rosé "I was being noble, chivalrous and mind you I was trying to prove that I was boyfriend material! Then she goes and calls me a sap?! I can't believe this..." Y/N lowers the mic and shakes his head in mock disbelief. Rosé doubles over in laughter before walking over to him and resting her free hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, I'm calling you a sap because you are one. But it worked out didn't it?" She looks down at Y/N before continuing. "I gladly said yes." The crowd goes crazy, people cheering, some were jumping, and the others were speechless.

Y/N smiles, a full smile from ear to ear as he takes Chaeyoung's hand on his shoulder to bring it to his lips. "Yeah, yeah it worked out well in the end didn't it?"

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A/N: Damn writing in 3rd person is a TASK. I might never do it again, I hope this was good enough? I'm not too sure about the ending but I liked the idea of them announcing their relationship infront of a crowd instead of doing it via a social media post. So yeah.

#Blackpink #Blackpink x Reader #Park Chaeyoung #Park Chaeyoung x Reader #Rosé #rosé x reader #reader!insert #TransMale!Reader #Male!Reader #Park Chaeyoung x Trans male!Reader #Rosé x Trans Male!Reader #Park Chaeyoung x Male!Reader #Rosé x Male!Reader

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blutopaz15 · 4 years ago

Note

How about "You're a softie", or rather "Ye're a softie" ?

Ackk!! This took me SO long to get to, I’m sorry!! It ~did~ turn into practically a whole oneshot though, so woooo! hope you enjoy ;)

also oops I lost the initial prompt post so I forget which number this is lol

#??: “You're a softie.”

Callum wasn’t exactly sure what he’d been expecting when Rayla had banished him from their room, saying that she had a “surprise” for him, but it certainly hadn’t been this.

She’d beaten him back there by a longshot. The “super short” evening audience that one of Ezran’s advisors had requested was not super or short by any means, and by the time Callum had traipsed back to their room, feet dragging and head foggy, she was already ready for bed. When the heavy door creaked open, though, rather than remaining comfortably and impatiently cross-legged on the edge of his matress, ready to curl up with him for a little bit before bedtime as usual, she’d popped up off his bed, shoved his pajamas into his arms, and quickly ushered him towards the washroom.

“Uh, okay,” he’d responded, curiosity over what she was up to clearing the fog from his mind. He deliberately leaned his weight into hers, stalling as she pushed him towards the door so he could ask: “What’s all this about?”

“I have a surprise for you!” Her voice had his favorite teasing cadence to it, and Callum felt a little flutter of anticipation, warm and pleasant, in his chest.

Satisfied and eager from the answer, Callum stopped resisting just as she shifted her hands from his shoulders to his waist and pressed her weight more insistently against him. This successfully sent him stumbling through the open washroom door. She gave him one more direction, accompanied first by a smile that was softer than he would’ve expected and then her lips on his cheek, before she sharply shut him away back there.

“Ten minutes,” she said.

The typical draw of their evenings spent together was amplified by the promise of whatever surprise she was assembling out there, and Callum realized that he might’ve been a little too eager when he called out to her through the door for the first time—his face already washed, his teeth already brushed, his limbs already pajama-clad—and got an exasperated sigh in response. He tried once more, twice more, then thrice more before—at long last—she finally confirmed that he could enter.

The washroom door swung open wide, and there, at the center of the room, was Rayla on the floor, surrounded by what seemed to be every spare pillow and blanket in the castle, beaming at him, eyes shining and bright.

Callum grinned back at her, his head cocked to the side as his shoulder hit the doorframe. “What’s all this?” he asked, nodding at the piles of pillows she was nestled between.

Rayla’s nose wrinkled up as she lobbed the blue cushion laying across her lap at him, and he was pretty sure—as he held up his hands to knock it away from his face—that he’d never seen her smile so wide.

“Sleepover!” Rayla flung her arms open, gesturing towards the multi-color mountains all around her. “Last night you were saying how you wished I didn’t have to go back to my bed, and this isn’t technically sleeping in the same bed so…”

He bent to pick up the blue pillow and tossed it back to her—gently. That was a pillow-fight he would—absolutely, without a doubt, for sure—lose. She caught it—of course—and laid it back over her legs.

“I’m pretty sure this is still against the rules,” he said, shrugging at her, still in the doorway...trying to decide if he cared enough about those rules to deny her.

Opeli’s ‘no sleeping in the same bed’ rule probably translated to ‘don’t sleep next to each other’ too, Callum thought. Though...he was pretty sure it also translated to ‘don’t lie in the same bed’...a rule which they’d been breaking daily...

But, attendants never came in to check on them in the evenings when they were bending those rules. The mornings were a different story, though: someone was always bustling in first thing, earlier than they could ever have a hope of waking up to separate themselves first, and Callum had to wonder if that was Opeli’s specific bidding.

Still though...like Rayla had said...technically…

“...and we care why, exactly?” Rayla asked, an eyebrow raised, arms crossed, outwardly annoyed. Callum could see, though, that his hesitation—which wasn’t really his anyway—had hurt her.

Pre-bedtime pillow fort cuddles—no beds or sleeping involved—probably wouldn’t break any rules, Callum figured, even if their luck changed and they got caught.

Though, maybe, he considered, the strictest translation of Opeli’s rule might be that they just weren’t supposed to lie down with each other at all…

Rayla was frowning now.

He took a few steps closer before turning his back, spreading his arms, and collapsing back onto the stacks of pillows next to her. When he peeked an eye open, Rayla chuckled softly, reaching for the hand that’d fallen across her knees.

“Dummy.”

She looked over her shoulder and down at him, appearing not quite as deflated. Callum leaned on his elbow to offer up an explanation.

“I’m just saying, Rayla, I really don’t want to have to explain it to Ezran if Opeli separates us.” He’d meant that to be lighthearted...but it was also very true. He winced theatrically, and Rayla smiled back, rolling her eyes and squeezing at his fingers. When she stopped shaking her head at him, what she wanted was still lingering in the way she looked at him. She eased herself down by his side, matching his pose.

“Callum...please? Just for tonight?” The sincerity in the way her brow furrowed tugged at him...and she knew it. That teasing rhythm was back in her voice when she went on, her stare so very sweet. “Come on, you know you want to! It’ll be fun! The ‘it’s not a bed’ excuse will definitely work at least once.”

That was probably true, Callum admitted to himself. It was possible—likely, actually—that Opeli wouldn’t be happy about their rule-bending, but...feigning innocence was a possibility…

Plus...it’d be so nice to wake up at Rayla’s side. Her arms heavy with sleep and draped over him...her warm breath on his cheek...her lips parted and perfectly within kissing range…

Like she could see his resolve weakening, a mischievous smile crawled across Rayla’s lips.

“How can I convince you? We can snuggle all night! I’ll let you be little spoon?” She rocked closer, still up on her elbow like he was, and pressed a kiss, brief and enthusiastic, to his lips. When she pulled away and her eyes opened...she didn’t even need to tag on the last incentive. “Mmm, I don’t know, what else do you want? Anything!”

It wasn’t quite heat in her eyes...more like...a spark. An offer of heat.

A similar heat very quickly filled in underneath his collar, across his cheeks.

“Yeah, the answer to that question is definitely against the rules,” he laughed, eyes wandering to the ceiling before he smiled at her. “But...fine. Sleepover. If we get caught, though, you’re going to be the one who explains to Ez what Opeli is so worried about.”

Rayla’s hand wrapped around his almost as soon as Callum started poking a finger at her to go with the dramatized sternness of his stare, and, before he knew it, she’d used that leverage to knock him flat on his back. Rayla’s arms looped around his neck, her chest pressing him into the floor, and she was still for a moment, just holding him near. Her lips landed in his hair.

She stayed close to whisper, giggling in his ear. “You’re such a softie, Callum.”

“Maybe so,” Callum conceded, turning to press a clumsy kiss to her jaw before nuzzling closer, his lips drifting down to place tonight’s first of what he intended to be many kisses against her neck. “I was promised anything I want, though.”

The sigh she made wasn’t all that loud when he kissed her again—this time just under her ear, the skin there exceptionally warm and smooth—but Callum could feel it vibrate in her chest, and he was sure that she could feel the way he shuddered, too, as her fingertips ran along his spine.

“I thought you didn’t want to break any rules?”

#Rayllum #fanfic #rayllum fanfic #ficlet #fluff prompts #this was the last one in my inbox #what a surprise: it’s rayllum roommate/cohabitation spicy fluff!!#shocking!#<3 #thanks for asking! :)

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mimik-u · 4 years ago

Text

Flower Child, Chapter 19 (Blue IV)

AO3 Link

Thursday, July 5th, 8:38AM:

Blue: Hello, Steven… how are you this morning?

Steven: tired.

Blue: I’m sorry.

Blue: Is there anything I can do?

Steven: no

Steven: I don’t think so

With one hand, Blue Diamond held her phone aloft and read Steven’s bare reply again and again. And with the other, she gently massaged her aching right hip, kneading her spiny knuckles gently over the bone beneath the thin layer of her nightgown.

She’d slept on it the wrong way.

Had tossed and turned all night, nightmaring.

And she didn’t need a psychoanalyst to tell her what it meant that her dead daughter erupted from a wilting hibiscus flower before transforming into Steven Universe, who dissolved into petals as she tried to cling onto them both—her smile, his laugh, her freckles, his hair, all crumbling beneath her fingertips into pollen and pieces. Pearl’s words echoed in the dark chapel of her own head as she gathered the petals in her palms: “Start with a flower and a smile, perhaps.”

Help him, Blue.

Don’t look away.

(You’ve always been so good at looking away.)

In the end, she laid her phone facedown on the bed and rubbed her sore hip in the curtained darkness of her room for a few minutes longer. It was unclear to herself whether she was trying to soothe the pain or grate it in just a mica deeper, one sensitive knuckle movement at a time.

Either way, she was only giving herself what she deserved.

Relief.

Injury.

And perhaps both at the exact same time.

A cocktail of them both—shaken, not stirred.

It was only when the alarm clock on the bedside table indicated that ten minutes had passed in silence and arthritic torture that she endeavored to apprehend her cane with both hands, violently wrenching herself into a standing position, briefly throwing her world into dizzying spirals. Blue closed her eyes against the initial nausea and told herself that she had to go on.

In so many more ways than just simply one.

She glanced fleetingly at the hibiscus that still remained on her nightstand, now withered around the edges, now graying, and thought to herself that perhaps she could save it if she acted fast, pressing it between the pages of a favorite book—an Austen, a Homer, a Kierkegaard.

Preserving it.

Start with a flower and a smile, perhaps.

Help him, Blue.

Don’t look away.

The sounds of her cane were muffled in the carpet as she made a detour to the bathroom to grab her robe, pulling on the worn garment like an old friend, the collar flush against her long neck. And then, her movements as stiff as they were laborious, she made her way from the bathroom back to the bedroom and then into the vast, empty hall—at the end of which the living room was framed in an arch of white, morning light.

Clank, she barely glanced at the door leading into the study because she knew Yellow wouldn’t be in there.

The door was completely closed, which was a telltale sign in and of itself.

Clank.

Assorted images from the previous evening sifted through her head like grains of falling sand, salting her unsettled thoughts as she moved forward, her bare feet tracing the smooth wooden planks.

Clank.

They had sat in the backseat together on the car ride home from the hospital yesterday and dared to hold hands, fingers intertwining, palms touching.

Lifelines.

Yellow was as warm as Blue was cold, the gathering of their skin simply electric.

Clank.

The sky outside the tinted glass windows had been the precise shade of a bruised peach—gold around the edges and a darker amber within. There were cream colored clouds that swirled and swirled through the ripening sky, becoming milky wisps in the places where they spread too thin.

Blue stared upwards into these vaulting heavens and thought fleetingly about beauty, how it could come from the most mundane of places.

In the continuous cycles of an ever-changing sky.

In children who gave flowers to random strangers at cemeteries.

In laughter.

In sadness.

Even in grief.

The fading light dusted the crown of her wife’s blonde head.

A slight frown pulled at her lips.

And there was great beauty and great sadness in this, too.

Paradoxes and contradictions.

“What are you thinking about?” Blue had asked, absently skimming her thumb along the side of Yellow’s hand, tracing every line, relearning every divot and groove.

“My luck,” Yellow returned in that familiar dry voice of hers. “That wreck could have been… disastrous.”

“Yes.” The word was hushed in her throat, cloistered, the possibilities that it engendered too much to bear: Yellow injured, Yellow dying, Yellow gone. The worst hypothetical had never felt more real to her than in the handful of hours that had elapsed between her doorbell ringing and rushing to the hospital in the dead of night.

With Pink, there had been no likewise chance.

No hospital to go to.

Only a morgue.

“Did… what’s her name… you know—the new valet—did she make it out alright? I forgot to ask.”

“She did,” Blue confirmed with a small nod. “Topaz—I mean. Only a few cuts on her face from what I understood. I gave her a temporary leave of absence.”

“Good,” Yellow sighed, relief palpable in her low voice. “Excellent.”

Her frown incrementally shifted, becoming the barest of smiles.

Subtle.

Almost easy to miss.

Clank.

They had ascended the elevator side by side, too, Yellow pulling her special keycard out from the pocket of her immaculately pressed shirt with fumbling fingers, and Blue could tell that she was tired by this uncharacteristic clumsiness alone.

“Let me,” she whispered before gently apprehending the card and slotting it into the reader that would grant them immediate access to their floor.

It was a tiny kindness.

Somehow, it was far more than that, too.

Yellow stared at her, eyes wide, and said, “Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Blue murmured, a dull flush coloring her cheeks as she returned the card, slipping it back to where it belonged.

The doors opened slowly, welcoming the Diamonds home.

Clank.

Blue had insisted that Yellow sleep in the bed, that she needed a good night’s rest after all that she had been through, but Yellow was infuriatingly stubborn to the last—intransigent, inflexible, chivalrous—protesting that she didn’t want to aggravate Blue’s hip problem.

She’d be fine on the couch.

It only hit her later that night, as she laid in that bed that was much too big for her, that she could have invited her wife to come to bed with her.

But the thought scared her as much as it intrigued her.

She pushed it to the side, tabling it for a later date.

(Coward.)

Clank.

The living room was dressed in a pale sunshine coat when Blue finally arrived at the very edge of it, her oceanic eyes washing over the scene until they lit upon Yellow Diamond, stretched beneath a thin blanket on the white couch, fast asleep, soft snores emitting from her half-open mouth.

In the hours that had elapsed, her wounds didn’t appear as angry as they had done yesterday, and there was already a little discoloration around the edges of her stitches that suggested that they were already beginning to do the complicated work of healing—as transitory wounds tended to do.

Blue lifted the bottom of her cane now so it no longer thudded against the floor with each slow and deliberate footfall; she could retain her balance for that long, or, if she couldn’t, then she’d very well know it was likely time she had that hip replacement her physician kept threatening at each of her successive appointments.

But she didn’t waver.

Didn’t fall.

Miraculously refrained from breaking.

Long enough to reach the creamy ottoman in front of the couch, which Yellow had apparently used in lieu of a nightstand. Her reading glasses were folded neatly atop of yesterday’s copy of The Empire City Times, the crossword section right side up.

She’d almost finished it, lacking only two-across: ANTONYM OF CRUELTY.

And the answer, Blue Diamond could plainly see, was grace.

Fondness for her wife, exquisite and painful tenderness, unexpectedly erupted in the column of her throat—a rush of love, a flurrying sensation, spreading all over, both trickling water and raging fire, paradoxes and contradictions. And suddenly, all impulse, thought swept away by feeling, feeling unknotting her hesitant bones, Blue gingerly bent down and brushed the sharp line of Yellow’s jaw where sunlight had already scribbled itself in patches. She was a child running curious fingers along the edge of a forbidden shelf. She was a butterfly tentatively skimming a blade of grass. She was a broken mother trying to learn how to be unbroken again. She was a loving wife.

She hadn’t been intending to wake her—had only wanted to touch—but somewhere in the space of four awful years, Yellow had apparently learned to be a light sleeper. Her golden eyes flew open at the gesture, catching Blue in the act.

“Blue,” she murmured, shocked, disbelieving, as though she wasn’t entirely convinced that she wasn’t dreaming. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Blue returned softly and at least had enough decency to look ashamed. (For what exactly? She wasn’t necessarily sure. Somehow, she just knew that it was a very shameful thing to touch her wife. To caress her gently after so many days and months and years of having not done it.) “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, no,” Yellow protested, sitting up abruptly to make room for Blue on the half-rumpled couch. The movement must have been too sudden for her sore body because she briefly winced, glancing downwards at her leg. “I should be getting up anyway. What time is it anyway? Seven? Seven-thirty?”

Blue remembered the timestamp that had accompanied Steven’s last message, and a frown bruised her lips as she slowly lowered herself by her wife’s side, balancing herself on the head of her cane.

“Closer to nine, I believe.”

Yellow blinked once, disbelief turning to cross bemusement in the slightest shift of her brow as she searched for the truth in her wife’s long face.

“Seriously?”

“More or less.” Blue’s lips slightly rippled, and Yellow shook her head with disgust, the emotion snarling across her weathered face.

“I haven’t slept in past eight since I was in college,” she muttered, pushing a hand through her sleep-straggled hair. “Goodness, that’s unusual.”

“You were exhausted,” Blue proffered immediately, as though this was explanation and excuse enough, but Yellow only shook her head again, refusing her own defense just as quickly as Blue had risen to it.

“Not anymore than usual,” came the stubborn reply. There wasn’t argument in her voice, so much as there was an edge, inwardly pointed.

Because that was the thing about Yellow Diamond.

She saved her sharpest words for herself, lancing her own criticisms deep into her skin in order to forcibly teach herself how to do better the next day. Blue knew better than to challenge her when she did this, for Yellow did enough challenging to herself.

So she looked away and allowed Yellow to punish herself and lapsed into contemplative silence, thinking about Steven again, threading her fingers together on top of her robed lap: his sunken face, his lachrymose messages, his careworn caretakers, and all of their collectively haunted eyes. Even glancing out onto the sun-warmed balcony was enough to conjure the image of him sitting beside her in the chair that usually belonged to Yellow and eating one of Holly Agatha’s famous chocolate cakes.

The one he would later throw up.

Because he was sick.

Terribly so.

“Blue?” Yellow’s voice was soft, prodding, hesitant, awkward—full of all the dichotomies and contradictions that their relationship seemed to have been built on these last four years. They both loved each other.

Surely.

Deeply.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt.

They were equally afraid to say it aloud.

“Is something troubling you?”

Blue’s turned away from the balcony and faced her wife again—the stitches on her sharply hewn jaw, the complicated emotions in her golden eyes, the sharp set of her frown—and wondered what would happen if she simply told her the truth, if she laid it nakedly between them and simply waited for a response.

It was terrifying to be vulnerable with another.

Somehow, in the midst of everything, she remembered that it was necessary.

“Steven Universe,” she finally whispered, the name less like a name and more like a confession, gently handed over between the sliding partition in a wooden booth. “I’m worried about him. I talked to one of his guardians yesterday, and he isn’t… doing well.”

Yellow’s face grappled with the news, appearing far more stricken than Blue could have ever expected of her.

When she frowned, the lines beneath her eyes darkened and creased, making her appear ancient.

Haunted.

“I know,” she said unexpectedly.

“You do?” Blue couldn’t help herself—she arched an incredulous brow, and her wife’s cheeks promptly colored in response, the pink feathering the sickly purple of her bruises. It wasn’t a particularly handsome effect.

“I met him the other night,” she muttered, a little impish, a little stiff, glancing away. “I was curious. I wanted to know what he looked like.”

Blue didn’t know what was more astonishing—the fact that Yellow had visited Steven in the first place or the miraculousness of her actually admitting to it so plainly. Neither action seemed particularly characteristic to a woman who attempted to subjugate all of her emotions beneath the sleeves of her immaculately ironed shirt.

But she could see the truth of the words in the tense sobriety of her profile.

And she knew, from experience, that as astonishingly unlikely as it was for Yellow Diamond to visit a sickly child in the hospital, it was even less likely that she would lie about it in the first place.

And so Blue did what she could to collect her face, but she was fairly sure that trace remnants of her surprise still remained because her wife scoffed, the color of her cheekbones still a rosé red, sweet and mild.

“You don’t have to look so shocked.”

“I’m… I’m not shocked,” she protested immediately, her own features shading themselves in. “I’m just—”

But Blue Diamond, eloquent though she was, could not find another fitting word, and Yellow Diamond, seemingly despite her better judgment, laughed once, the sound harsh and warm in that airy, light-filled living room.

“Shocked,” she repeated emphatically, shaking her head.

“You’ve disarmed me before I’ve taken my morning tea,” Blue mumbled, a little petulance in her voice, a little play.

“Good,” Yellow sniffed, half-grimacing, half-smiling. “I’m glad to see I can still keep you on your toes.”

And then they both stared at each other—nakedly, unflinchingly—quite painfully aware that they were on the verge of making each other laugh for the first time in years, and the solemnity of the occasion brought them both back to themselves.

Blue frowned so easily that it was only muscle memory, primal reflex.

And Yellow followed suit, the sunlight raking itself across her wounded face.

“And what did you think of him?” Blue asked, both wanting the answer and dreading it. She slightly learned towards her wife; part of her wished to flee; and because she didn’t flee, because she stayed, the contradiction manifested as a twisting of her gut, a turning.

“A little impetuous…” Yellow said immediately, her voice low, distant with memory. “Annoyingly happy… but good, I think. Smart for his age. Kind. He almost reminded me of—”

But she caught herself just in time—stricken, terrified, revolted.

And Blue’s heart nearly failed with the simple proximity of her daughter’s ghost, of the closeness of her nearly evoked name.

But they danced through the horrible moment.

Silently.

Together.

Yellow swallowed thickly, and Blue Diamond was merciful; she gently took her wife’s splinted hand.

“Pink,” she murmured softly, the word, the name, the ghost reverent on her tongue.

Holy.

“Those eyes,” Yellow croaked painfully, folding her fingers into the gaps between Blue’s own. “That wide smile.”

“I know,” Blue whispered. “I know.”

“I can see why you like him, Blue,” she said seriously. “He hooks you in.”

Blue’s mind worked far ahead of her. Even though she didn’t explicitly articulate it, even though she likely never would, it was clear that Yellow was amongst this number.

She liked Steven Universe.

She cared.

“Before you even know it,” she agreed softly. “Before you’re even aware.”

“It’s all so very sudden,” Yellow muttered uncomfortably, frowning, a divot forming between her dark brow.

And Blue thought to herself, very quietly, that that was the nature of love, really.

It was all so very sudden.

And beautiful and extraordinary and rare.

And sad and horrible and tragic.

And lasting.

Even when it happened suddenly.

(Even when it was suddenly taken away.)

“What isn’t in this world?” Blue murmured, and she gently skimmed the side of her wife’s hand with her thumb, watching as this simple revelation played out across her powerful features.

Smoothing them.

Sanding and softening all those rough edges.

“Frankly,” she finally said, smiling a little sadly, “I have no damn clue.”

ii.

Once upon a time, there was a princess, a knight, and a little elven girl, all tucked up in bed together, side by side by side.

Blue ran her fingers through her daughter’s mass of curly hair as she snored lightly. Her tiny hand was curled into the front of Yellow’s pajama shirt, knobbly fingers twisted into the fabric, secure there. She’d fallen asleep protesting the need for sleep, trying to convince her mothers for one story more, and just as Blue had finally conceded—she rarely ever didn’t when it came to Pink—her hooded eyes drifted to a close beneath the gentle lamp-strewn haziness of the room, where she was warm.

Safe.

Loved.

For that was the crucial fact, the fundamental thing—Pink Diamond was loved most of all.

“We’re never going to have a sex life again, are we?” Yellow lamented, slanting a honey-eyed gaze at her wife over the top of Pink’s head.

Amusement in the expression.

Fondness.

Blue laughed lightly and could not help but play along, teasing her body upwards so that she was propped on her elbow, and she could look at her wife properly, drinking in the way she looked at ten o’clock at night, with her hair still a little wet from the shower. There was a certain gentleness in her hawklike face that she tended to eschew during the day around business colleagues, subordinates, and clients, but here, in the safety of their shared bedroom, it had always been implicitly understood that even birds of prey had to roost, too.

“It isn’t too late, you know,” Blue returned, her voice warm, low, suggestive . Yellow had started it after all; it was only fair that she finished. “We can simply move her to her own bed…”

“And chance waking her up again? Hell, no. It was an ordeal just getting her to sleep.”

“The couch is always an option.”

Yellow scoffed imperiously, poking her lips out in a magnificent imitation of her mother’s trademark pout.

“Every time we try that, one of us falls off the damn thing.”

“Hey,” Blue laughed again, causing a heavy strand of hair to fall from where it had been swept from behind her ear, “I wasn’t the one who vouched for hardwood floors.”

Yellow pulled on a faux-offended look like it was one of her favorite ties, dramatically starfishing one of her hands across her chest, exactly where her collared pajama shirt dipped into a vee.

“Well excuse me for thinking that carpet looks outdated.”

“You’re impossible,” Blue smiled gently, shaking her head.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is practical .”

And then, because it was late at night, and they were tired and being stupid, and there was a baby in the bed between them, the two of them caught each other’s eye and couldn’t help themselves, collapsing into laughter that was lovely and loud and ridiculous enough to make Pink briefly stir, her ears twitching irritably at the disturbance.

And then, because this was somehow incredibly funny even though it really, really wasn’t, they laughed some more—silently this time albeit—before eventually flicking off both of their lamps and wrapping their arms around their daughter in the cool darkness, fingers meeting precisely in the middle.

iii.

Friday, July 6th, 9:20AM:

Blue: Hello, Steven. Are you feeling better today?

Blue: If you are, I would love to come visit you again soon.

Steven: not really

Steven: sorry, Blue

Saturday, July 7th, 9:51AM:

Blue: Just checking in, sweet boy. Respond only when you feel up to it.

Blue: And if that’s not at all… that is perfectly okay, too.

They took their tea and coffee out on the balcony, Blue assuming the right armchair and Yellow the left, and somehow, there was both a rightness and a wrongness to these simple actions.

Because this was new.

And yet, achingly familiar.

One week ago today, they danced this same vicious dance, drinking coffee, drinking tea, sitting in these chairs, appropriating a sense of normality that they did not feel. And the memory of their failed ruse swallowed a lot of the precious oxygen in the air, making it hard for either of them to speak. Blue spidered her hand across her sternum, the tips of her long fingers touching spiny collarbone, and tried to remind herself how to breathe.

Yellow was more finicky in her discomfort, her careworn face drawn as she bobbed her left leg up and down, the heel of her slipper flicking arrhythmically against the smooth floor. And the sun that she stared at was the precise color of a healing bruise, pale ochre against a silver sky. And the bruises on her angularly hewn face were mottled in the strange light, pulsing like miniature supernovas, burning, gradually dulling.

“I heard it was going to rain tomorrow,” the businesswoman eventually said, and it was clear from the way that her voice was clipped that she didn’t really want to talk about the weather.

“I saw that, too,” Blue Diamond replied in a low voice. “On the news, I believe.” She had seen no such thing, in fact, but they were talking again, she and Yellow, and that was something that would occasionally take baby steps.

Weather talk.

Mere pleasantries.

Scratching the deep, dark surfaces with fingernails.

But then, because the weather could only take them so far, they lapsed into a silence that was its own person, sitting indelicately in the space between them.

Pink hair.

Constellation freckles.

A black hoodie.

A mischievous smile.

Once upon a time, there was a princess, a knight, and a little elven girl, who hadn’t been so little anymore—not really. She’d been tall and willowy and full of passion for a life she had yet to live. She’d been twenty-one, but both of her mothers had treated her like she was twelve.

And they loved her, but they suffocated her.

And they loved her, but they ignored her.

And they loved her, but the awful and unbearable truth of the matter was that love was not enough.

Love was the foundation, but it had to be built upon with care and attentiveness—with perceptive eyes and willing ears and flexible hearts. It required sacrifice. It demanded compromise. Mutability. Vulnerability. Change.

And so Blue and Yellow loved Pink Diamond, down to their marrow, down to all the atoms in their four hundred and twelve collective bones, but they failed her in so many of those other important respects.

And they paid the steep price.

Because once upon a time, the little elven girl who wasn’t so little anymore had had enough of her own fairytale and dreamed of carving out another.

She sought freedom and adventure.

She was daring; she wished to rebel.

But when she did for the first time (and the last), when she snuck out of her palace of a room, there were monsters out there, and nothing in the world had ever prepared her for monsters—not even her parents, who had slain their fair share of monsters: dragons and greedy businessmen and hardhearted mothers.

And so she died, and the princess and the knight were left alone in their high tower to lose their goddamn minds.

In separate rooms.

Away from each other.

They mourned and mourned and mourned.

And on that sun-paled balcony, before she knew it, before she could stop herself, Blue Diamond’s eyes were pooling with hot tears. She tried to swipe them away, so Yellow wouldn’t see, wouldn’t chide her, wouldn’t scold, but Yellow had already seen—of course she had already seen—and her golden eyes were wide.

Lined.

Horror-struck.

“I’m sorry,” Blue pleaded reflexively, covering her face with her tall hands. She was always so very sorry. “I was just... I was thinking of her and I couldn’t help it... and I’m—“

“Don’t apologize, Blue,” Yellow cut across her hoarsely, her voice a sharp knife on the edge of breaking. “Don’t ever feel like you have to apologize to me.”

But Blue didn’t think that this was a particularly healthy way of looking at things either. There were so many things she felt the need to apologize for.

(All of them had to do with looking away.)

“But—“

“Because I was thinking about her, too.”

The sentence was an admission, rushed, expulsive, thrown to the floor like it was a bomb ready to ignite.

Yellow abruptly flinched, and Blue did, too, waiting for the aftermath of the blow that didn’t quite come.

So now there was an invisible body in the space between them and a ticking time bomb on the floor.

Company was always diverse in the Diamonds’ penthouse suite.

Perpetually attuned to their self-made demons.

“You were?” Blue’s voice verged on the edge of offensively wondrous. She dared to look at her wife in the gaps between her fingers, slicing her statuesque profile into vees. Her stern jaw. Her world-weary eyes. The lines crisscrossing her face. The defeated hunch of her Atlantean shoulders.

Blue pulled her fingers downwards until they were tightly clenching the lapels of her robe, fingers sinking into the thin fabric, knuckles turning white at the grip.

“How could I not be?” Each word was acerbic, gritted through the teeth, self-loathing. “Just last week, we did this, too, and I hurt you then… I’ve hurt you so many times over Pink. I should be the one who is saying sorry.”

Yellow looked over then, her face desperately open, as though she was trying to convey the force of her raw penance by expression alone.

How tortured she was.

How craven.

Feral.

Agonized.

Undone.

“And I am sorry, Blue,” she continued, the lines beneath her eyes contracting harshly. “I am so sorry—for every wrong I’ve ever done to you. For every time I’ve made you feel wrong for grieving Pink. I… I have no excuse, no semblance of a justification… I just…” But she violently interrupted herself, her ferociousness seemingly drained from her body as she jerked forward, elbows on her knees, dragging a hand across the whole of her face, uncaring of her stitches.

And she remained like that for what felt like an eternity, a statue ruined, palm covering her mouth

Staring wide-eyed into space.

Into an awfully bruised sky.

Blue Diamond’s entire nervous system was in total disrepair as she looked at her wife.

And tried to comprehend the words she had just said, the very ones she had resigned herself to never hearing.

Because for all the four years that she had grieved and grieved, Yellow had been right there beside her, insisting that she should get a grip on herself, should get better, should move on.

And here was the apology for all those awful words.

Here was the proof that they had existed, and that they had injured, and that they had hurt.

The creased skin around Yellow’s eyes was damp.

Her robed shoulders trembled.

“Yellow Clytemnestra Diamond,” Blue finally whispered, the name less invocation than it was admonition, less admonition than it was cruelty, less cruelty than it was love, “you cannot honestly believe that it is that simple.”

That caught her attention.

Yellow jerked her head in Blue’s direction so quickly that it looked painful.

“What?”

“Can’t you see?” She asked, a pleading note in her voice as she leaned a little across the gap between their chairs, her silvery hair falling in loose gossamer curtains around her face. “It isn’t all just you, and it isn’t all just me either. It’s both of us. Together. My God and my goodness, it always has been.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Yellow snapped, her face leached of its color as she scrabbled for purchase, for a reasonable ledge upon which to mount her own cross. “You were grieving, and I kept pushing you. I couldn’t stand watching you fall apart.”

“But you were grieving, too, Yellow!” Blue all but shrieked, desperate to impress upon her wife how important it was to acknowledge the unplumbed depths of her pain.

To own it, by God.

To share it.

Because she didn’t want to be alone anymore.

She couldn’t bear to be.

“You were hurting, and you were sad,” she continued unrestrainedly, tears pricking the corners of her eyes again. She made no attempt to brush them away this time. “And I was so cruel, Yellow. I wanted you to acknowledge it for my own selfish reasons, and then, at the very same time, I was desperate to push you away. You hurt me, but fundamentally, I hurt you, too, and you can’t just… you can’t take away our history like that. You can’t shoulder all these four years on your own. It doesn’t work like that. Love doesn’t! Marriage doesn’t! We don’t!”

Blue Diamond’s chest heaved painfully at the end of all this, as though she had just run a marathon. She rubbed her sternum again, trying to excise the damage, but there was so much of it there—so many hundreds of days worth—and she was so tired.

Exhausted.

But still, there was more to be said; there were mountains between hers and Yellow Diamond’s chairs.

Insurmountable oceans.

And Yellow was frozen, a monument to her own colossal grief.

Stone.

Leaking stone.

She had fountains for eyes; they dripped and dripped.

“And we hurt Pink,” Blue whispered, closing her eyes against this final, horrible truth as the tears continued to lance down her long face, salting her cracked lips. “Oh, my God, how we hurt that poor child. She wanted so badly to grow up, and we wouldn’t let her. We looked away. And that’s what I think about every time I close my eyes, Yellow. Her last words to me echo perpetually in the dark of my head.”

You’ll never let me grow up, will you?

She couldn’t help herself then; she let out a bitter sob, wrenched to her very core.

Because their daughter was dead and never coming back, and the pain of that simple fact would haunt her until the day she died, the memories of her so many thousands of scattered ghosts.

Eternal.

Omnipresent.

Her own constructed gods to worship and to fear.

“I was grieving,” Yellow confessed hoarsely, and the naked baldness of it forced Blue to open her eyes again to take a look. Her wife was rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, fingers dug into the thighs of her pajama pants. Without her trademark three piece suit, without her makeup, without her man-killing heels, she seemed so much smaller than usual—less adamantine, more human. “And I hurt you.”

“Yes,” Blue said simply.

It was a mere syllable; it cost everything in her to utter it.

“And you were grieving… and you didn’t mean to… but you… you hurt me, too.”

“But sometimes,” Blue reminded her gently, the words awful on her lilting tongue, “I absolutely did mean to. I wanted to hurt you, Yellow… I wanted you to feel the barest inch of pain that I felt and suffer with me. Us. Together.”

Yellow looked like she didn’t know what to say to that, so she ignored it, striking the heel of one of her hands across her running face, sniffing harshly.

“And we hurt Pink,” she carried on, this unforgivable truth the salt in the exposed wound. Yellow’s voice broke at the end as the pain of it simply burned. “We hurt her so many times over.”

There was only one possible answer to this leveled charge, too.

“Yes.”

Yellow closed her eyes against this final condemnation, wincing harshly, as though skewered through with a sword. Her jaw was red in the place where she’d tried to wipe away the tears that still continued to flow down her angular face.

“So what do we do now?” She asked, and the question was almost childish in her stringent voice. The desperation in her golden eyes pleaded for an answer, a foundation upon which to stand. “Where the hell do we even go from here?”

It was a simple question at the same time that it was a loaded one.

It engendered the possibilities of more pain, dissolution, and grief.

The startling potentiality that neither Blue nor Yellow Diamond would ever recover from the loss of their only child.

Their shared tomb of a bleak and horrible future.

But there was hope there, too.

The startling possibility of it.

The barest potentiality.

Small.

Slight.

Goddamn miraculous even.

But there.

Taught first to Blue Diamond by a boy in a cemetery, so many days upon long, aching days ago.

Thinking clearly for the first time in four years or perhaps not thinking straight at all, the fifty-five year old woman tenderly reached her shaking hand across the gap between their chairs and held her palm upwards as though it had a flower in it, inviting her wife’s fingers to fill in the empty spaces, to imagine a conceivable future where they could one day hold hands and be content.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, her voice also quite childish, the words so very small. “But wherever it is, Yellow, let’s go together.”

To heaven.

To hell.

To the grave.

To their golden years.

Yellow stared at her open hand for the longest fraction of an infinity, and there was exquisite agony in her eyes, painful tenderness, too.

Paradoxes and contradictions.

“Okay,” she finally whispered, taking Blue Diamond’s hand, interlinking their long fingers.

“Okay.”

iv.

Once upon a time, there was a princess, a knight, and a night that seemed to swallow them both entirely whole.

Because White Diamond wasn’t doing well.

Her live-in nurse had called Yellow just today and told her that some days were worse than others, and worse days were become less exception than the rule; she was often agitated, frustrated, terrified, confused; she thought that Yellow was still at boarding school; she saw shadows of strange men on the alabaster walls; she missed her own mother, who had been dead for some forty-odd years; she wanted to send her dearest Starlight a postcard from Paris.

As they laid in bed together in the darkness, Blue wrapped her arms around her wife’s tense body, pressing soft lips against her pillow-rumpled hair.

“Mother always said that she wanted a grand funeral when her time came,” Yellow said stiffly, each word yanked from behind gritted teeth. “If her casket cost less than a hundred grand, she’d haunt me from the aether for the rest of my life.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Blue sighed, a little sad, a little amused, a little fond. Her mother-in-law had always been quite the character, larger than life, always meticulously dressed in Gucci jumpsuits that were more expensive than most people’s home mortgages.

“She wants to be buried in the same crypt as my grandparents naturally,” Yellow continued in that same halting voice, “and I told her that she was being ridiculous. Someone would have to knock out a damn wall to fit another casket in there.”

But Blue knew her wife too well, perhaps better than she knew herself sometimes with her obstinate avoidance of all things introspective in nature.

“My colleague’s husband is a contractor,” she said gently, skimming her fingers up and down Yellow’s sleeved arm. “I can get a quote for you on Monday...?”

“Mm,” came a noncommittal grunt, which Blue correctly interpreted as reluctant assent.

The silence laid thickly upon the two women then.

Seconds passed.

Electric minutes.

Blue could almost feel the tension agitating Yellow’s bones.

And then—

“We should talk about our own burial plans one day in the near future,” she said brusquely. “At the very least, we need to have the Zircons codify our basic intentions into a will.”

Blue stared at the back of her wife’s head incredulously, eyes wide, her dark brow contracting somewhere in the middle. With some effort, she extricated her arms from around her, so that she could prop herself up on one elbow more easily.

“Yellow Clytemnestra Diamond,” she whispered, unable to quite keep the emotion from her voice, the rising pitch, “what on Earth do you mean? We’re not even fifty yet.”

Goodness, they were barely forty.

“Accidents happen all the time,” Yellow reasoned sagely, rolling around to face Blue properly, “and I want to leave Pink with a clear blueprint. Otherwise, you and I might end up in neon pink caskets as Weezer plays over our grave.”

“How serious of you,” Blue quipped, lowering herself down to the pillow again so that they were at eye level. In the barest light that seeped through the curtains, she saw that there were tired lines scoring Yellow’s face, straining shadows.

“I’m being completely serious,” she protested shortly. “Not about Weezer, perhaps, but the fact that we should have solidified plans.”

Abstractly, Blue knew she was correct—it was only common sense for them to put their affairs in order, even if they were young, and perhaps especially while they were. And yet, she had a feeling that this particular topic of conversation wasn’t strictly about the common sense of it, the practicality, the realism.

It was more so about the haunted look in Yellow’s eyes.

And the stiffness of her body.

And her sick mother.

Assuredly, it was about grief.

“Yellow,” Blue only whispered, reaching across the barest gap between them and placing the palm of her hand on the woman’s warm cheek. Her thumb cradled that imperial jaw, tracing its harsh geometry, loving it softly.

And Yellow Diamond immediately jerked, as though stung by such a gentle, careful touch, but ultimately, she didn’t move away from it.

She leaned into it, in fact.

And closed her dark-stricken eyes.

Sighing.

“Sorry,” she muttered thickly. “I was being morbid... I just... it’s all becoming real to me, I think...”

Blue remained silent in this awful darkness, simply listening, simply holding her wife’s face.

“The inevitability that one day, my mother isn’t going to call me on the phone to chew my ass out about the company again... she’s just always been so stubborn, so implacable, that to imagine her as anything else is...”

But she trailed off, opening her eyes again. They were strangely filmy, bright but simultaneously dull.

“Well, you know what it is,” she finished awkwardly.

The words sprung immediately to Blue’s clever and elocutionary mind: unbearable, unfathomable, cruel.

She decided quickly, though, against saying any of them aloud; thinking them was punishment enough.

“I know,” she whispered, continuing to study the planes of her wife’s jaw by touch alone. She chose not to say anything when there was sudden dampness on the side of her hand.

“What do I do, Blue? The question was hushed, strangled, barely articulated into the night. “What happens next?”

Blue Diamond didn’t particularly know grief yet, the harrowing nature of it, its iron-sharp teeth.

And so that was the only answer she could give her wife in the end, as intelligent as she was, as intuitive, and as sensitive to the natures of others.

“I don’t know,” she admitted gently, “but I promise you, Yellow Diamond, I’ll be by your side through all of it.”

In sickness and in health.

’Til death did them part.

’Til Weezer apparently one day played over their grave.

“How sentimental of you,” Yellow laughed humorlessly in a failure of an attempt to hide that she was touched.

Blue leaned over then and pressed her lips against Yellow’s cool forehead, fingers still cupping her face. And when the stalwart general of a businesswoman’s entire body shuddered, she was merciful again; she pretended not to notice.

“Yes.”

Tuesday, July 10th, 7:22PM:

Steven: i’m sorry for just getting back to you, Blue. It’s been a rough couple of days.

Blue: I know how that feels.

Steven: it’s just kinda hard to get outta my own head right now.

Blue typed and sent her reply just as the door leading into the penthouse suite abruptly swung open: I know how that feels, too.

When she glanced up from her phone from where she was sitting on the couch, Yellow Diamond was limping through the threshold in such a way that it was painfully obvious that she was trying to hide that she was limping—holding her shoulders ridiculously straight and grimacing as though to subjugate any pain she was feeling in the firm press of her mouth.

Though she was dressed in a button down with black slacks and a suit vest to match, she wasn’t quite coming home from work; rather—as she’d told Poppy to tell Blue earlier that morning—she had been at the hospital all day.

Doing some more tests.

Placing her phone facedown on the nearby end table, Blue narrowed her eyes in what she hoped was sympathy but probably more so resembled fear.

“Yellow?” She asked softly, her voice small and tremulous and terrified of its own aggrandized shadow. She loathed herself; she didn’t know how to be anyone other than herself. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” came the immediate and stubborn reply as the woman shuffled over to the couch, her face unbending in unsubtle relief when she finally collapsed into a sitting position. Her palm immediately went to her right thigh, which Blue knew had been the one heavily bruised in the accident.

Blue’s brow bent pointedly over her arctic eyes.

Coldly.

“No,” Yellow amended herself, abashed, embarrassed, sniffing haughtily. “It’s only my leg, though. I was on it too much today.”

“I told you you could borrow my cane.”

“And I told you that that was the last thing I wanted to do,” she muttered, flushing, continuing to rub the inflicted area. “Besides, you need it more.”

Because it was always a competition between them—who was suffering the most. And for some odd and likely unhealthy reason, it was one competition that the ambitious CEO didn’t like to win.

Blue sighed heavily at this silent observation, disturbing the heavy braid that was slung across her shoulder, before slowly pulling herself upwards from the couch, drawing her wife’s incredulous, harried gaze.

“Wait! I didn’t mean for you to leave—”

But Blue only shook her head, quelling Yellow’s protests with the gesture, before slowly hobbling over to the kitchen and slowly hobbling back, this time bearing the ice pack that she sometimes took to bed with her and a gray towel to wrap around it. Using the head of her cane cane as leverage, knuckling it tightly, she nudged the white ottoman towards Yellow with her good knee until it was right in front of her.

“Prop your bad leg up,” she commanded quietly, her voice taking on that same authoritative note that she had once used with her pupils. “Elevating your leg will help drain some of the tension from it.”

And like the best of the headmistress’s former pupils, Yellow knew it was best to swiftly comply.

Laboriously, with obvious discomfort, she used her hands to drag her right leg onto the ottoman, wincing a little with each microscopic adjustment of her thigh. Blue, careful to give the limb wide berth, lowered herself down to the ottoman, too, where she encased the ice pack in the towel, neatly tucking the ends in together so that the cloth wouldn’t unloose itself.

Yellow watched all of this with offensively wide eyes, staring at Blue as though she was turning water into wine or doing somersaults in the middle of the living room. Self-conscious, hyperconscious, anxious, painfully aware, she tucked a stray strand of silvery hair behind her ear and tried not to pay attention to her as she gently pressed the ice pack against her leg, meticulous to cover the entirety of the affected area.

“Cold helps,” she only proffered in explanation. “I can instruct one of the maids to change it out for a new one in a few hours or so.”

“Thank you, Blue.” Yellow’s voice was constricted, tender, raw.

Blue didn’t think she deserved such an outpouring of emotion for such a simple task, this tiny, most minuscule of kindnesses; she glanced away, feathers of color dusting her hollowed cheeks.

“It’s nothing,” she returned gently. “You would do the same for me…”

A slight pause.

Loaded.

Unbearable.

She felt the need to extinguish it at once.

“You have done the same for me,” she added with quiet forcefulness, still not quite looking in Yellow’s direction, drawing both of her hands into her lap. They were cold now from handling the ice pack, rigid and stiff.

“So many times over.”

After all, how many times had Yellow Diamond sat vigil by her bedside in these past four years? Bathed her? Accompanied her to doctor’s appointments? Taken care of her the best way she knew how?

The number was unfathomable to Blue, innumerable even—both from a lack of attention and from the stunning knowledge that indeed, there were probably too many times to count.

There was a shifting noise then—Yellow adjusting herself on the couch, perhaps—and when Blue finally forced herself to glance up, she could see that there was a rumpled look in her wife’s eyes—the same messiness of an unironed collar, the stain of tea spilt on a tiled floor. She had jerked forward as though to reach out and touch Blue, but the position of her extended leg had made it difficult.

“But I could have done so much more, Blue,” she said softly, with quiet pain, the barren and fervent truth of it shining in those liquid gold eyes. “I watched you suffer more than I ever helped you… I’m so sorry.”

And when Blue immediately opened her mouth to protest, to rearticulate that it wasn’t as straightforward as that, that they had both done inconceivable wrongs to each other, that Yellow had done the best that she could, Yellow shook her head ferociously, her aspect taking on that same indefinable sense of authority which had so permeated her reign as the CEO of Diamond Electric.

And like the wisest of Yellow’s colleagues, Blue knew when it was best to simply stand down.

“No! I’ve been thinking about this,” she continued doggedly, “and I’ve come to the conclusion that just because we’ve both hurt each other doesn’t very well cancel out the fact that we did. That’s asinine, Blue—fallacious logic. I hurt you. I pushed you away. I didn’t want to acknowledge your grief for the inglorious reason that if I did, I would have to acknowledge my goddamn own.”

She raised her voice only at the end, flinching when she did, looking away.

The pale light flooding down from the strips in the ceiling cast strange shadows across her beaten face, and Blue Diamond’s heart bruised with the utter surreality of it all.

The confession.

The accountability.

The simple agony in Yellow’s voice, laid bare.

There were no barriers between them now, no walls, no facades, no meticulously constructed pretenses—only words.

Words and words and words.

Yellow Diamond had been there for Blue in so many different ways in four years… but she had hurt Blue so many times in so many different ways, too, and that was apparently something that neither of them were allowed to forget.

How many times had Blue laid in the horrible dark by herself, silent tears streaming down her face weathered? And how many times had Yellow insisted to her physician do up her meds, as though the underlying problem of grief could be treated first and foremost with a pill? How many times had her wife raised her voice at her—so devastatingly harsh, aloof, and cruel?

The number was unfathomable, innumerable.

Blue could not immediately swallow the lump in her throat.

“I… I remember thinking that if I could just keep myself together on the outside,” Yellow half-whispered, “I could be strong enough for both of us. I couldn’t bear being weak.”

And she flexed her fists on top of her powerful thighs, scraped knuckles trembling.

And she somehow found enough courage to look Blue in the eye.

And Blue stared at her right back, her eyes melting with awful tears.

“Grief isn’t weakness, Yellow,” she said ardently, with all the conviction she could muster, with all the atoms in her broken body.

Because she knew grief; she understood it; it was her closest companion, her very best and most horrible friend.

Yellow sniffed and swiped a hand across her face as though it would do anything, as though it would annihilate the over-brightness of her eyes.

“What is it then?” She asked, and from the quiet tone of her voice, Blue thought that she’d already guessed the answer.

But she said it aloud anyway, for both of them to hear and to know and to never forget again.

She reached over and gently took her lover’s hand and whispered, “Love.”

Tuesday, July 10, 9:02PM:

Blue: It’s such a hard feeling to contend with, sweet boy—the feeling of everything, the feeling of nothing, the feeling of drowning in the empty space of your own head.

Blue: I was there.

Blue: Some days, I still am.

Blue: But please know, Steven Universe, that I am here for you.

Blue: So many people are here for you.

Wednesday, July 11, 6:58AM:

Steven: thank you, Blue

vi.

Once upon a time, there was a princess, a knight, and a dead queen to mourn and to bury in a one-hundred thousand dollar casket.

On the day that White Diamond died, Blue washed her wife’s hair when they showered together that night, rubbing her fingers gingerly across her scalp as the steaming water broke across the crowns of both of their heads.

Yellow braced her shaking hands against the marbled walls and tried not to make so much as a sound.

Her shoulder blades were knife-sharp with the excruciating tension of holding herself together.

(Of not falling apart.)

Blue kissed the skin right between the middle of those tremulous mountains and scrubbed those places tenderly, too.

And when they dressed in their pajamas and went to bed together later on, loosely intertwining hands and painfully letting go, Pink Diamond came in, wearing one of Yellow’s old t-shirts as a gown, and wrapped her arms around Blue’s neck first, pressing a gentle kiss against her head. Her dark eyes were red from where she had been crying, for she had loved her Gran dearly, even if the eighty-five year old woman had taken habitual offense to the teenager’s choices of music.

“Goodnight, Mom.”

Blue closed her eyes in her daughter’s warm embrace and inhaled the scent of her floral shampoo.

“Goodnight, Pink.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.

She used to say it so easily then, and she said it so often, too.

It was commonplace.

It was habit.

(What had ever happened in the intervening years? Blue Diamond, to her eternal condemnation, could not know.)

And then the sixteen-year old dutifully shuffled over to the other side of the bed, where Yellow was sitting on the edge, staring blankly into space, the lines beneath her eyes stark, as though dictated in black ink. And Pink wrapped her arms around her other mother, too, burying her nose against that tall column of a neck.

Tears flowing down her freckled face, she whispered, loud enough for Blue to hear, “I’m so sorry, Momma.”

Yellow Diamond didn’t seem capable of moving a muscle at that very moment, more statue than human, obelisk-like, calcified.

But Blue watched as their beautiful daughter squeezed all the tighter, uncaring that she was meeting stone, her slender shoulders wrenching with a sob.

“I’m going to miss her, too.”

Yellow hadn’t cried since she had first gotten the call earlier that morning, and she didn’t start then either; Blue knew her too well; she was desperately afraid to be vulnerable for anyone to see.

And yet, with slow rigidity, with a tenderness that almost did not befit her, labored though it was, the businesswoman reached upwards and encircled her arms around her daughter, drawing the sixteen-year old girl into her lap as though she was that same child who had perpetually come into her mothers’ room after a bad nightmare.

“Shh,” she croaked, and there was pain in her fractured voice.

Pronounced agony.

Love.

Blue’s heart stuttered at the sight and at the sound.

“Shh, Pink,” she repeated, cradling her child, tangling her fingers in that wild, pink hair. “I’m here.”

vii.

Thursday, July 12, 7:12PM:

Steven: hey Blue?

Blue: Yes, Steven?

Steven: You can come visit me tomorrow if you want.

Steven: Would morning be okay? 9:00 maybe? I think they have some more tests to do on me in the afternoon

Blue: I’ll be there.

The summer evening was flush with soft colors—pink and indigo and aegean blue, all bleeding into each other, all melting, until the sky was falling with hazy radiance, white stars dotting the sky like angels in the night. Blue was on the balcony when Yellow arrived home, listening to a familiar piano arrangement that was playing on the classical radio station; the portable stereo was sitting on the table between the chairs.

“You’ve always liked this one,” Yellow said fondly, and when Blue turned around, she saw that her wife was leaning against the sliding glass doorway, dressed as impeccably as usual in a black button down and well-tailored khakis. The collar of her shirt was popped up around her sinewy neck, and there was a manila folder tucked neatly beneath her unhurt arm. She’d spent yet another day at the hospital, doing heavens only knew what.

At least she wasn’t coming home with any new injuries, though.

“Debussy?”

“Chopin,” Blue smiled faintly, and the gesture stretched a little stiffly across her unpracticed lips. “Nocturne in E Flat Major… I used to play it at my parents’ estate for our guests…”

“You used to get so frustrated when you pressed the wrong key,” Yellow teased as she pushed herself off of the door and ambled over. She didn’t quite sit down in her chair, but rather placed the manila folder down in front of the stereo before straightening up again, her silhouette tall in the burgeoning night. “Your brow would furrow just in the middle before you’d start all over again, intent on getting it right this time…”

Blue Diamond’s heart gently pulsed in her throat as she stared upwards at this figure she knew so well—so stern and so simultaneously magnanimous, so magnificent and so undeniably… broken, the lines beneath her eyes fixed scars, her face an angular canvas for cuts and oddly healing bruises.

“I’ve always been a perfectionist, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

Yellow drew a purposeful step closer, and Blue instinctively leaned back, her stomach clenching against wild and irrational and warranted fright.

“Yellow…”

Because then, with a little awkwardness in her eyes, with a hell of a lot of fear, Yellow Diamond slowly proffered her hand, the metal band of her watch catching in the golden light that illumined the balcony.

There was no mistaking the gesture.

It was an invitation.

“The song’s almost over,” Blue whispered, her throat savanna-dry.

“So?” Yellow meant it to be casual, Blue inferred, but the sound came out too agitated. Color leaked from the sky and seemed to scribble the hollows of her cheeks in. “That’s never stopped us before.”

She was embarrassed.

It was adorable.

And strange.

And oddly sad.

And so, Blue Diamond swallowed her fears.

She took her wife’s hand in the star-strewn darkness.

They could be embarrassed and strange and oddly sad together.

Relief shattering her face, Yellow leaned forward then and wrapped her arms around Blue to help her stand, going slowly, with all consummate gentleness. Their bodies were so close that they could hear the hummingbird beating of each other’s hearts—loud, quick, and desperately afraid.

Blue placed her chin on Yellow’s shoulder and allowed herself to be held by her wife for the first time in four years.

The thought and the sensation nearly made her want to cry.

Yellow Diamond led them slowly and carefully as the arrangement lolled through its sweeping notes. With Blue’s bad hip and Yellow’s sore leg, they couldn’t do much more than turn around in careful circles.

Once upon a time, they would have both sworn that they could out-waltz a king.

“I had an interesting day today,” Yellow said suddenly, as though this was explanation enough for why she was dancing with her wife. Her breath was warm against the tip of Blue’s right ear.

“Oh?”

“Indeed,” she nodded, her chin briefly pressing against Blue’s shoulder, “but I’ll have to tell you about it later, I’m afraid.”

“You’re such a tease,” Blue murmured, but the accusation didn’t come out quite as light as she wanted it to. Her voice shook, and her hands trembled where they were resting on the woman’s back.

Tears danced in her sea-dark eyes.

“Something of the sort, yes.”

The song continued on, but it was nearing its beautiful end—a series of high-lilting lifts and then a final, graceful fall.

Blue greeted every note like it was an old friend, long lost at sea, now come home.

“I’m going to see Steven tomorrow,” she whispered as they continued to draw their slow circle upon the floor. “Early. He asked me to come visit.”

A slight pause.

The piano tinkled a spray of final notes.

And then, there was silence.

“I don’t think his head is in a good place.”

The silence made the proclamation all the more wretched.

Yellow stopped them in their place but didn’t quite let go of Blue, her fingers curling into the thin fabric of her dress.

“I don’t find that hard to believe,” she murmured. “We wouldn’t be in a good place either if…”

But rightfully so, she let the end of that particular hypothetical trail off into the night, for Yellow and Blue Diamond both weren’t in a good place either yet. They were dancing, and they were tentatively smiling, and they were learning how to love each other all over again.

But that was only the beginning.

The start of another piano arrangement began to rise softly from the stereo.

“Bach,” Blue said automatically to smooth the rough moment over. “One of the Goldberg Variations, I believe.”

And so they began their gentle revolutions again, swaying, barely moving their feet to the solemn melody. The wind ran its fingers across them, stirring Blue’s heavy braid, ruffling the collar of Yellow’s shirt.

“Do you know what you're going to say to him?”

It was a remarkably intrusive question, or perhaps it very well wasn’t. Perhaps Blue was judging off the standard that four years of standoffishness from her wife had taught her so emphatically. The questions she most associated with Yellow now largely had to do with whether or not she’d taken all her pills.

She shivered a little, even though the air was mild.

“No,” she replied, closing her sunken eyes. “I haven’t the faintest idea…”

She hadn’t been able to rouse herself out of four years of grief; despite whatever Pearl seemed to believe, she wasn’t entirely sure that she possessed the words that would be enough to help Steven Universe. For even he hadn’t given her words that fateful day in the cemetery.

He’d given her kindness.

He’d given her a flower.

“You’ll figure it out,” Yellow said with an assuredness that made Blue’s heart flutter again. It was a wonder that she could even breathe.

“You say that with such confidence on my behalf.”

And as Bach’s mournful contemplation scored that profound night, Yellow Diamond drew back, so that Blue could see her face, every sharply drawn facet of it, illuminated in that softly scattered lamplight—fifty-six years of life, pressed into the layers of her skin, lines and shadows and lines. These were the lines that had formed beneath her eyes when their daughter first died. And there was the cut that raced across the bridge of her nose from the car accident. And here were the stitches that currently served as a memento of that scary night, too. And there were the slight parentheses formed around her mouth whenever she frowned, relics of time and age and grief.

Her golden eyes were bright with emotion and ancient with the weight of so many passed years.

“Because I know you,” she returned simply, “and I love you.”

They were merely three words, but Blue’s heart nearly failed to hear them.

Spoken to her.

Meant for her.

By the person whom she loved.

Oh, dear God, when was the last time anyone had ever told her that they loved her?

She could not say; she strained to remember.

“I love you, too,” she whispered it back, even though it was only four words, and they were all so very semantically simple.

But the expression on Yellow Diamond’s face was anything but as she, too, registered what it was to be loved by another, her mouth agape, pleasure and pain and ecstasy and terror warring across her face in dizzying swirls.

Oh, dear God, when was the last time she had told Yellow that she loved her?

She could not say; she strained to remember.

And there was hesitancy then.

And vast, godawful fear.

And there was longing then.

And tender, unquestioning desire.

And they both leaned forward then…

And tilted their heads in just the right way…

And they…

viii.

Once upon a time, there was a princess, a knight, and a master bedroom that smelled like a fresh coat of paint.

It was empty as of yet, hollow and silver-walled and woefully unadorned—the movers had just placed the bed and mattress down. They’d be coming back later on that day with the nightstands, armoires, and dressers—all custom-made for the Diamonds’ penthouse suite.

For their first home.

“Wait,” Yellow said, and there was mischief in her twenty-eight year old voice that took Blue by pleasant and tender surprise. “Let’s finalize this bridal style.”

“Yellow,” she laughed, her face coloring pink, “don’t be ridiculous.”

But the heiress only shook her head, grinning with all the self-assuredness of her love and general air of arrogance, as she bent down and scooped her wife into her well-toned arms. Instinctively, Blue wrapped her own arms around that corded neck to help support her weight and found herself so close to Yellow’s face that she could not help but be enchanted.

By her.

Because of her.

This golden-eyed knight.

“I’m not being ridiculous,” Yellow scoffed, pressing a quick kiss against her head. “I’m being romantic. Haven’t you heard of the concept before?”

“Abstractly,” she teased. “In novels and fairytales and the like.”

“You read too many books.” “And you read too little.”

“Nerd.”

“Neolith.”

And they grinned at each other with unbearable affection as Yellow Diamond walked them over the threshold of the room, careful to maneuver her body in such a way that Blue’s feet didn’t hit the doorframe.

When they were on the other side, though, she gently placed her down, so that they were directly in front of the bed that would soon be their own. Blue would assume the right side and Yellow the left, and on some nights, they would meet directly in the middle.

“Soon,” Blue murmured, softly interlinking her fingers with Yellow’s. The bands of their wedding rings clinked delicately at the touch.

“No more bumming out in my mother’s mansion,” Yellow smiled, playing a little with Blue’s hand, swinging it.

“And hearing her daily tirades about being late to breakfast…”

“Oh, yes,” came that harsh, lovely laugh that Blue so loved. “I certainly won’t miss those.”

And they turned to face each other then, light playing in their youthful eyes.

And Yellow reached up and tentatively brushed back a strand of loose hair behind Blue’s ear.

And Blue leaned into the touch because she could not imagine ever doing anything else in this world.

And their futures stretched before them, ribbon-like, graceful, spiraling into each other’s lifelines with an inextricability that they simultaneously believed in and found hard to fathom. They were each other’s beginnings and their ends. They were partners, soulmates, wives. They dreamed, in that very moment, tiny though it was, of all the things that they would do together over the course of an interconnected lifetime. They would chase their ambitions with wild abandon and climb to the very height of them side by side. They would take long walks in the park near their high rise. They would go see musicals on the date nights that Blue chose and drink the most expensive bottles of champagne over steak and lobster on the ones that Yellow preferred. They would fall into the same bed every night, the very bed in front of them now. They would fall asleep in each other’s arms—warm, loved, secure. Maybe they would get a cat at some point, even though Yellow swore up and down that she was allergic to them. And maybe they would travel the world, seeing all the sights and wonders and ultimately concluding that somehow, even the Eiffel Tower paled in comparison to the view that they had of each other.

And maybe, one day, they would even adopt a child to love, to raise, and to cherish.

For Blue had always wanted a little girl.

The possibilities were endless.

And so, they leaned forward then…

There was nothing else left to do.

And they tilted their heads in just the right way…

And they…

ix.

Thursday, July 12, 7:45PM:

Steven: I’m scared, Blue.

They danced in the incomplete darkness for as long as they could both bear it, but eventually, their bodies caught up to them—Blue’s aching hip and Yellow’s sore leg and the overwhelming awkwardness of it all that arrested their limbs, too, as they slowly remembered what it was to touch each other.

They hadn’t touched each other in so many years.

Holding on to the head of her cane for support, Blue leaned down and turned off the stereo, while Yellow collected that curious manila envelope from the table and tucked it beneath her arm again.

When they both straightened up again, their noses were inches away from each other.

Blue could see every microfilament in her wife’s expression, softly realized by the amber light above. She was a beautiful creature, down to every last line that had struck itself across her face. Those dark lashes and golden eyes. The way her teeth gently pressed into her lower lip in tender and shy hesitancy.

With this sort of notable self-consciousness, though, she stepped backwards and away, giving them both space to breathe.

Blue’s heart felt as though it was going to beat right out of her chest.

“You can shower first,” Yellow said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I have some paperwork to attend to anyway.”

Oh.

She’d forgotten, for however long that they had been on the balcony together, that it was commonplace for them to part at night.

That they weren’t together.

How awful and how unbearable.

How completely and utterly cruel.

Yellow’s gaze flicked down to the manila envelope, but Blue’s remained centered on her wife’s face as she struggled to articulate the words she desperately wanted to say and ardently dreaded to, her lips partially cracked open, her entire body electric with nerves.

“Blue?” Concern bent Yellow’s brow. She shifted her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.” Are you—”

“Come with me, Yellow.”

Oh, the awful and beautiful and terrible words—how they fell so clumsily and stupidly off her laden tongue.

“What?” The businesswoman’s eyes flew wide open, stretching the lines beneath them into almost comedic proportions.

Blue tried again, slowly extending her hand, palm up, her oversized sleeve dangling from her wrist.

Her skeletal fingers were trembling, but there was no mistaking the gesture.

It was an invitation.

“Come to bed with me, Yellow,” she whispered as tears reflexively blurred her eyes. It was no small wonder that she still had the capacity to cry after so many days and nights of weeping herself undone.

“Please.”

What complicated emotions were going through Yellow Diamond’s mind then, Blue could not entirely say. Sundry emotions seized across her eyes; her mouth wrenched itself open; and for what felt like an eternity, an infinity wrapped into excruciating seconds, she was simply and utterly speechless, staring at that outstretched hand as though she was seeing God for the first time.

How many nights had this woman dreamed of this moment? Blue wondered to herself, pain and love and fear commingling in the column of her throat.

And how many nights have I half-wanted it?

Half-dreaded it?

Craved it.

Pushed it away.

She did not have time to answer these profound questions, though, for with astonishing tenderness, with paramount and equivalent fear, Yellow took her hand, palms against palms, the striations of their fingers aligning themselves perfectly.

“Are you sure?” She asked quietly.

She was thorough as ever; she was giving Blue a readymade out.

Blue Diamond had never been more unsure about anything in her life.

“Yes,” she whispered anyway.

And so they…

Thursday, July 12, 8:15PM:

Blue: It’s okay to be scared, Steven.

Once upon a time, there was a princess, a knight, and a king-sized bed that had always been meant for two.

Theirs was a sad tale.

A tragedy.

Their daughter died, and that was something that neither of them would ever entirely recover from.

But, and all the same, they could love each other nonetheless.

They could be there for each other for the rest of their dwindling days.

Holding hands.

Learning the shapes of each other’s collected and accumulated scars.

Braving the night together, one second, one minute, one fraction of a vast and incomprehensible infinity at a time.

In that dark bedroom, silent tears streamed down Blue Diamond’s face as her wife tentatively held her, her face against her shoulder, her arms encircling the softness of her gowned belly. She rested her slender hands on top of those of tall, leathery ones and didn’t know whether to be devastated that this was the first time they had shared a bed together in four years or so utterly relieved.

Yellow kissed her head.

And the back of her neck.

And her cheek.

And kept asking if she was okay? Was her hip doing fine? Did she need more space?

And Blue replied, every time, in the strongest voice she could muster, “No.”

No, she was not okay.

No, her hip was not fine.

No, she didn’t need more space.

It was all paradoxes and contradictions: grief and love and so many wasted years. The potential for a better future. The awful fear that things could eventually become worse. Blue’s softness and Yellow’s sternness. Blue’s selfishness and Yellow’s tender care.

But they went to bed together, and that was what mattered.

And when Blue Diamond finally fell asleep, for the first time in a very long time, she did not nightmare.

She did not dream.

xi.

Friday, July 13, 7:22AM:

Steven: you think so?

Blue: I know so.

Blue: Being scared is how we know that we are alive.

By the time Blue had woken up and gotten dressed and made it to the kitchen the next morning, Yellow was already gone to work according to Livia, who was fixing Blue’s choice of tea. The slightly bitter aroma sharpened the air.

“She left something for you, though, Mrs. Diamond.” The slight maid used a spoon to point towards the counter. “She asked me to tell you…”

“Thank you, Livia,” she returned gently as she proceeded to the directed area, one doleful cane clink at a time.

Laying on top of the cool marble was the manila envelope Yellow had brought out onto the balcony last night. It was clasp-side down, and the businesswoman’s squared, utilitarian penmanship had dictated a short note to Blue in black ink.

Before she had the chance to read it, though, Livia was sliding the steaming cup of earl gray across the counter, the dark liquid gently sloshing against the rim.

“Do you need anything else, ma’am?”

Blue glanced up and studied the maid’s face, which was tentative with kindness and shy with awe. It suddenly struck her then, with all the precision of a lanced sword, how hard these past four years must have been for her, too.

“No,” she murmured softly. “Thank you, Livia… I think I’m…”

But then, she remembered.

Yes, there was in fact something she required before she went to the hospital today.

“My checkbook if you would, please, Livia… I haven’t the slightest clue where I’ve last placed it.”

If Livia seemed surprised by this odd request, she didn’t betray it in her features, simply nodding with all the delicacy that her natural constitution seemed to entail.

“Yes, Mrs. Diamond.”

“Thank you again.”

And the girl fluttered off, wisp-like in her movements, towards the dark corridor, leaving Blue alone with her thoughts and her tea and the manila envelope beneath her. She looked down again, running her fingers across that familiar scrawl.

Test results. The doctors rushed to get them done. I love you. - Yellow

Blue’s harrowed heart lurched against her ribcage as she comprehended these words, as they seemingly fell to the pit of her stomach.

Sickening her.

Immediately goring her.

She flipped the envelope over and unclasped it with almost indecent haste.

There were about twenty papers in all, neatly stacked; the first sheet was the same shade of light pink that had once been their daughter’s favorite color, and the reminder nearly ruined her where she stood.

But eventually, with trembling fingers, she negotiated the papers out of their sheath, her dark eyes scanning the neatly printed words.

And when she comprehended them, when realization swept down across her body with glorious, sweeping force, Blue Diamond did something she had not an occasion to do for years upon years now.

Strangely enough, though, in these past few weeks alone, it was becoming something of a commonality.

Her lips tilted upward in the barest, most gentle of curves.

And she...

#bellow diamond #blue diamond #yellow diamond #pink diamond #white diamond #steven universe #s: steven universe #mimiku #flower child #i'm going to weep #i cannot believe i completed this chapter

121 notes · View notes

doublekrecs · 4 years ago

Text

ethanol (k. tetsuro)

synopsis: your lab partner in chem is annoying.

word count: 4.2 k

college!au, barista!akaashi, e2l, mean!kuroo, meg thee stallion stan!atsumu fem!reader

warnings: a lil angsty, swearing, nsfw, smut, some semi x reader smut, fingering, oral, face sitting, drunk sex, drinking, mentions of weed, degradation, hate sex??, unprotected sex, overstimulation, a lil breathplay?

walking into a stem class, especially chemistry, you expected at least a few girls to be in there with a male majority. it’s not that you didn’t get along with boys, in fact, your best friends were men themselves. but being a girl in a science class meant constantly being talked down upon, sometimes sexualized by some weird ass incels.

so when you walked into your small class as the only girl who knew no one with nowhere to sit, you settled for the next best thing: sitting next to a guy who had seemingly okay vibes. and you spotted exactly that. you couldn’t deny that he was kind of hot, a little rugged looking with his messy rooster hair. though he was only sitting down, you were also able to tell he had some height on him.

you took your seat next to him and waited in silence for the professor to start the class. this class is only a semester long. this repeated in your head like a mantra. one semester. one semester. and it’s next to a seemingly normal hot guy. you could do this. as the professor got right into the topic, you got to work right away. notes were scribbled, important topics were highlighted, your focus completely spent on the class.

“god, your perfume reeks. what did you do? dump the whole bottle?”

you looked to your left. gears were turning in your head and you felt yourself tense at the sound of his first spoken words. are you fucking serious? yeah, you liked your vanilla scented perfume. bokuto did, too. hinata loved it. akaashi was indifferent, but he never said anything negative. one semester, you repeated to yourself. one semester.

“your hair looks like absolute shit, but you don’t see me complaining about it.”

and that was your first impression of kuroo tetsuro, your lab partner. a complete asshole.

“and he fucking asked me if i dumped a bottle of perfume on myself! i’m not going to survive this semester with this rooster bitch.”

you sighed loudly and turned to bokuto and hinata who listened intently. while you came down from your red, hot anger, the faces of these two angels helped you feel good again.

“i’m sorry, (y/n), but there’s this one guy in my math class you might get along with. he said he was taking the same chem class, so just tell me when you need help,” bokuto responded, putting his arm around you, “but for now, it’s dinner time.”

“from where?”

“osamu. hinata won a bet against atsumu and now we have free onigiris.”

hinata snickered in the kitchen while akaashi typed away on his laptop. your roommates really were the sweetest.

for the next two weeks, the class slowly started more and more labs. you and kuroo mostly stayed silent unless you needed to talk about what to do with various liquids or what solid formed from what. it was okay like this. he was tolerable, except when-

“you’re off by one mililliter.”

“what?”

“you heard me, you’re off by a milliliter.”

you turned to kuroo and your sight is met with his usual stoic expression, “does it even matter? this is a huge beaker and one milliliter is like nothing compared to the rest of the solution.”

“you want to get consistent results, don’t you? so stop being sloppy or else we’re both going to fail this class. you can’t treat this class like the way you treat your perfume.”

shock took over, then boiling anger.

“sloppy? you come here looking like a fucking rooster.”

“what do you mean?”

“have you brushed your fucking hair in the last 3 years? have you looked in the mirror?”

just one semester. one semester.

you calmly composed yourself, remembering that bokuto and hinata had planned a movie night. you can get through this stupid class period. -

“and he lost his shit over one fucking milliliter! can you believe it?”

akaashi listened as he poured the milk into your coffee. you always liked to visit the cafe during the slow hours to check up on your roomie. plus, the quiet atmosphere, the smell of pastries, and akaashi’s pretty face was the perfect setting for ranting about your stupid fucking lab partner.

“i don’t know, (y/n). he’s a bit of an asshole, but maybe he’s just meticulous. it could be a good thing, you know.”

“metic-a-what? i need you to translate your big boy vocabulary, kaash.”

“you know i hate that nickname.”

“yet you have no problem when bokuto calls you that. you’re warming up.” he sighed in response while you gave a toothy grin back up at him.

“you got me there. but what i’m trying to say is that he pays attention to small details. he looks at little intricacies, especially in your assignments.”

“intri-ca-what?”

the next month of chem went by fast. you and kuroo had little snarky remarks here and there, but nothing too bad. he was just less of an asshole for right now.

you sat in your usual spot with the same scent of vanilla lingering on you since the first day of school. the class period went by with the usual routine: notebook? check. pen? check. highlighters? check. asshole lab partner? check. until halfway through the lecture-

“shit.” the highlighter ink was running low, your notes were getting less and less vibrant. while you knew highlighting signified some kind of shallow understanding of the subject, color coding helped you organize your thoughts.

you made a note to yourself to buy a new pack the next day.

but then the next day came and there was already a new one at your desk. midliners, in fact, the ones with prettier colors. the ones that were slightly more expensive than your usual ones with a post it note that read your name on it. you had no problem with accepting this anonymous gift, picking it up with admiration shining in your eyes. now you can continue class with your usual routine: notebook? check. pen? check. highlighters? check. asshole lab partner? check.

“so no one was going to tell us that we were going to throw a party tonight?”

akaashi spoke sternly to the two children on the couch while you prepared some snacks. for a party. that you discovered was happening tonight. ten minutes ago.

“aghaaashi, we haven’t thrown one in awhile. plus, it’s been awhile since all of us drank together.” bokuto whined. hinata had his full puppy dog eyes on as if he was a little boy begging their dad for a puppy.

“fine. but if anyone throws up, you guys are the ones cleaning the bathroom.”

while akaashi turned around, the children celebrated by excitedly putting out their drinks. this was going to be a long night.

there’s some whores in this house. there’s some whores in this house. there’s some whores in this house.

dim lights? check. henny and sprite? check. meg thee stallion? check. the basic tools necessary for a fun night.

tsumu drunkenly held onto you as if you were some kind of pillar. who knew it only took a few shots for such a big man to lose his ability to walk straight?

“(y/n)!!! wap is playing!!!”

“i know, baby, it’s your song!!”

“i know damn well flattykawa isn’t stealing the fucking show!! hold my drink, babe.”

that’s when you kissed his cheek good luck and your buddy disappeared onto the dance floor. and your eyes were met with the sight of a pretty boy staring at you.

“kaashi, who’s that?” your roommate turned to you, the pretty boy, then back to you.

“semi eita. he was in one of my literature classes. he was also on the volleyball team at shiratorizawa in high school.”

“the one with big daddy ushiwaka?”

“yeah,” he grimaced, “he’s in a band now.”

“A BAND??”

“you know what? just remember to use protection-“

kaashi was interrupted by the sight of tsumu throwing it back to hinata. the tangerine haired child really was doing his best, but tsumu was a big man. although, he really did show oikawa up.

“shoyo is so small. is he going to be okay?”

“not my problem.”

your focus went back up to the blondish grey haired musician. ruffled hair, cuffed jeans, a loose shirt. semi eita. huh. you took your last sip and discarded the red solo cup. you took another peak at him. bedroom eyes.

“hey, (y/n), the guy in my math class just got here- oh.”

“i’m gonna have to meet him some other time, bokuto.”

kuroo poured himself another drink and immediately found bokuto full of energy and red faced from the alcohol. a hyena laugh filled the room at the sight of hinata and tsumu, until he scanned the rest of room and saw you. in the hallway. with some guy with grey hair. who you led to an empty room. his heart dropped a little, but he didn’t know why.

“hey, my roommate is kinda busy right now so i can’t really introduce you two,” bokuto apologized, “why do you look like that?”

“like what, owl head?”

“sad.” he spoke with concern.

“oh, i thought i saw this one girl from one of my classes. but it doesn’t matter. let’s go drink.”

not even ten minutes later, you were in your bedroom with the pretty grey haired musician, most of your clothes already on the floor. you straddled him and cupped his face as his lips met yours, then your neck, then your shoulder.

his fingers found their way into your panties, quickly finding your clit as he sucked the sweet spot on your neck.

“s-semi.” you whined, grinding on his hand.

“you wanna cum on my fingers first, babe?”

you nodded quickly, lips once again meeting his. he laid you down on your bed, head resting in the crook of your neck. you felt two fingers enter you as semi curled them, his thumb rubbing your clit. the pace was agonizingly slow, but the more vocal you were, the more he sped up.

“you’re so fucking wet, baby. you’re so fucking tight.” he mumbled in your ears.

his mouth made contact with your nipple, swirling his hot tongue over the hardened bud. his mouth continued to move south, eventually replacing his thumb. you felt his tongue circle your clit quickly as his fingers continued the assault on your g spot. you clenched around his fingers, letting out small whines as the coil in you began to tighten.

“i’m going to cum, semi.” you breathed out.

he let out a low groan of affirmation, “don’t hold back, then.” his fingers began to move faster, your g spot being hit even harder. his mouth was back on your clit, sucking the small nub harshly. your thighs began to shake as his fingers fucked you through your high.

he pulled his fingers and his mouth met yours once again, your teeth pulling on his bottom lip. his fingers were brought up to your lips and you sucked on them greedily. this was going to be one hell of a night.

the crackling sound of the oil filled your ears as akaashi cracked some eggs onto the pan. the smell of food and coffee drifted in the apartment. the morning after was always nice for you two since you guys rarely drank a ridiculous amount of alcohol. sure, you had to take out some trash and clean up here and there, but surprisingly, no one threw up last night.

“when do you think bokuto and hinata are going to wake up this time?” you asked sipping your coffee while akaashi added rice onto the pan.

“hinata’s awake, he just feels like shit. bokuto fell asleep in the bath tub, so you know the drill.”

you nodded, walking up to the fridge to make your classic hangover concoction. as if on cue, bokuto walked into the living room with his fingers pressed onto his temple and hair looking all sad.

“good morning, you baby.”

“you hooked up with semi, didn’t you?” bokuto responded with a smirk on his face.

“i did what?”

and that was the moment semi decided to emerge from your bedroom shamelessly. his hair was messy, his clothes were all disheveled, and the memories from last night hit you all at once. you didn’t even notice that he was sleeping next to you in your bed when you walked straight to the kitchen for breakfast.

“morning.” he smiled at you and gave you a peck on the cheek. bokuto snickered while akaashi was unphased by the interaction.

“morning.” you responded, your face getting hot as you recalled the events of last night. he was good. very good. you couldn’t deny the fact that he had some talented fingers. and a pretty good stroke game.

“you want any coffee?” akaashi offered, as semi headed towards the door.

“no, i’m good. i’m supposed to eat breakfast with wakatoshi.” he replied groggily. semi let out a yawn and bid bokuto and akaashi a farewell before he pulled you aside.

“thanks for last night. call me if you want to do it again some other time. or not.”

you nodded, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks as he left.

“(y/n), you fucking asshole!! you were supposed to get with the guy in my math class!! i knew him in high school he’s a big sweet nerd!” bokuto whined.

“yeah, yeah, i’ll meet him when there’s another party. me and semi were just a one time thing.” you brushed him off as you put all the ingredients in the blender for the hungover children.

“all of you are going to have to collaborate with your partner for this lab report.”

you threw your head back with a silent groan. this was going to be a long assignment. you looked to the asshole on your left. his face was expressionless as he looked back at you.

“i know you despise me, but we both want an A on this.”

you couldn’t disagree with him. he had become more tolerable the past few months, often lending you notes that you had missed with the addition of some snarky comment. plus, you often got good scores on your assignments, some of his insight being helpful. at this point, you had developed the habit of going to the cafe akaashi worked at after to rant. he would make you some coffee, lend you some advice, and calm you down as you ranted about your asshole lab partner. it was a whole routine.

“fine. the cafe after class. my friend works there and it isn’t too crowded.”

“okay.”

the rest of the class period went by in the blink of an eye and you finally found yourselves entering the small shop. the scent of coffee and pastries filled your nostrils and a sense of happiness and familiarity flowed through your veins.

“kuroo?” akaashi furrowed his eyebrows.

“kaaaashi!!” he responded excitedly, “i didn’t know you worked here.”

“well, i gotta make money somehow. plus, (y/n) here likes to snag some free coffee during my shifts.” akaashi narrowed his eyes at you.

“wait, you two know each other?” you asked. how did this asshole know your sweet, stoic roommate?

“our volleyball teams played a lot in high school. i used to practice with bokuto and akaashi. you’re their roommate?”

the barista nodded as he prepared your iced coffee, “i was just at your party a week ago. small world.”

kuroo looked at you and the puzzle pieces came together in his head. so this was the cute roommate bokuto boasted about. not bad.

“how do you two know each other?”

“he’s my lab partner.” you grumbled quietly.

“you wanna say that a little louder, sweetheart?”

you flinched at the nickname while kaashi tried his best to hide a smile. it was a small world indeed.

the next few hours were spent sitting across from kuroo, entering data, highlighting important results, interpreting the recorded numbers. it was plain busy work in a cafe, but it oddly felt warm. when it came to writing about applications, kuroo seemed a little better than just tolerable. you would have an idea and he wouldn’t shut it down. instead, he engaged in them and spoke with intent. you would make a small connection to an environmental solution and his face would light up and his eyes would widen in excitement. the input that followed was filled with insight and it almost felt like his heart would pour out. he really did live and breathe chemistry. it was nice to see someone just as passionate as you are.

the bell of the cafe rang signifying another customer. you instinctively looked up, your face immediately lighting up.

“tsum-tsum!!” you jumped excitedly, “i haven’t seen you since you threw back to hinata bokuto’s party!!”

“please do not remind me,” he said with a disappointed sigh, but quickly turned back to his trademark smirk, “but did i look better than flattykawa?” he asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“no.”

“wow, that was cold.”

while tsumu ordered his muffin, you let kuroo know that you were going to take a small ten minute break to catch up with tsumu to which he responded with a grumble.

you quickly got up and sat at another table with tsumu, quickly catching up about the past week and telling him all about kuroo.

“ooo (y/n), you wanna kiss him so bad? he probably wants it, too. i can feel his death glares.” tsumu said with a wide grin and raised eyebrows.

“what? no! that’s my asshole lab partner!” you whisper yelled back.

“whatever you say. the fact you two hate each other thickens the sexual tension, baby girl,” tsumu stood up and placed a kiss on your cheek, “remember to come to my volleyball game on friday, there’s gonna be a party at later that night. i’m sure bokuto told you already.”

you nodded and pulled him into a hug before he left.

“so miya atsumu, huh?” kuroo spoke up as you returned with your iced coffee.

“what about him?”

“you’re dating? i don’t see another reason to waste time that could be used on a project that’s worth a good chunk of our grade.” he replied snarkily.

“he’s a friend, i don’t see why you need to be a dick about me wanting to catch up with a friend.” your head hurt. fifteen minutes ago, he was sweet and insightful. but now, he was a cold asshole again. what the fuck was this guy’s problem?”

“well maybe you should stop slutting around with your ‘friends’ while we’re supposed to be working.” you scoffed. slutting around? is he fucking serious?

“i can’t believe i thought you were a sweet person for a few hours. i can’t stay here if i’m just going to get slut shamed for the rest of our work time. i’ll see you in class tomorrow, you fucking asshole.”

you got up and checked up on akaashi who was already clocking out. he was going to get an earful on the way home tonight.

“(y/n), you better not hook up with anyone tonight. you’re meeting my classmate tonight and i don’t want to have to tell him that you were ‘busy’ again.” bokuto pointed at you with a stern look on his face.

“yeah okay, ko.”

“good.”

you walked out to the living room with some light makeup and a skirt. hinata’s eyes lit up as he sped towards you. akaashi rolled his eyes while bo coughed.

“(y/n), you look so pretty!! when did you get that skirt? oh my!!” hinata poked and bombarded you with compliments and questions like the sweet child he is.

“(y/n), why are you wearing your horny stress outfit?” akaashi asked, glaring at the skirt.

“my what?”

“whenever you want to relieve some stress by hooking up with someone, you wear a skirt, dummy,” bo explained, “oh no. the victim better be my math buddy.”

you huffed. sure, they weren’t wrong, but still.

“is this about your lab partner?” akaashi questioned, pulling you aside from bokuto and shoyo.

“maybe,” you paused, “okay, yeah, but there’s been so much tension after that incident and i hate it. it’s stressing me out and the project is due in a few days. let me hook up with bo’s friend.”

“fine.”

dim lights? check. henny and sprite? check. meg thee stallion? check. the basic tools necessary for another fun night. now, you were just waiting for bo’s nerd friend to appear.

“tsum tsum!!” you yelled happily, immediately jumping into the arms of one of your best friends.

“i’m glad you made it, (y/n), i missed your ass,” he kissed your cheek, “so who’s the victim tonight?”

“bo’s friend if he’s into that. i’m supposed to be meeting him here.”

“ohhh, the nerdy one, right?”

you nodded while taking a sip of your drink. you already felt more relaxed from the environment of the party. plus, a faint scent of weed filled your nose. it was probably from suna.

“kuroo-san!!” bokuto called out. wait. did you hear him correctly?

“bokuto-san!!” oh, no.

“(y/n), come here! this is my friend from high school! the math one-”

you and kuroo stared at each other, his face expressionless, yours morphing into disbelief. everything bokuto said drowned in the background noise of the party. and suddenly, you connected the dots. oh shit.

“y-you!” you pointed at him, unable to form a full sentence.

“me?”

“yeah, you!”

bokuto paused and watched the scene happening in front of him, “you two know each other?”

“he’s my lab partner, you dumbass!” you yelled while bokuto’s hair spiked up in nervousness. he decided to slowly back away and find hinata before something happened to him.

you poured more henny into your red solo cup and prepared another drink for kuroo. yeah, he was an ass, but you might as well give him a chance to loosen up. maybe get an apology. you held out the cup to him and he muttered a small thank you.

“so,” he started, “our project is due in a few days.”

you sat down next to him while mindlessly playing with the ends of your skirt, “yeah, i guess.” you two sat in awkward silence for another minute.

“look, asshole-”

“i was just about the apologize, but then you decided to bitch again-”

“you didn’t talk and i want to leave this situation immediately so i can go hook up with-”

“with semi? with atsumu? is that the reason you came?”

“you’ve been on my goddamn nerves lately, i think i’m allowed to sleep with whoever i want so that i can relieve some-”

you were cut off by a pair of soft lips on yours. maybe it was the alcohol, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. the taste of liquor and something sweet on his mouth was intoxicating and you wanted more of it. but you hated him. he was your asshole lab partner after all. but he was also an excellent kisser. kuroo pulled away quickly, but before he can say anything, you spoke.

“what the fuck was that, kuroo?”

“i don’t know, but do you want to do it again?”

“...yes.”

and so you both got up, drunkenly stumbling to a random room. you were immediately pushed onto a bed, kuroo sucking on the spot below your ear as he pinned your body down to the bed.

“you know, i fucking hate the smell of vanilla, but because of you, it’s become one of my favorite scents,” you blushed at the comment as he pulled down your underwear beneath your skirt, “lace, huh? were you planning to get laid?”

“you’ve been stressing me out, what do you fucking think?” you responded with an attitude.

he began rubbing your clit in small circles and you let out a small sigh of relief, “so, you’re a fucking brat, huh? is this how it’s going to go?”

“well, you’re a fucking asshole, so i don’t know how else you expected this to happen.” he pressed harder and quickened his pace as you mewled under him. he found the sweet spot on your neck and began to suck harshly. you felt two fingers enter you slowly while thumb continued the assault on your clit.

“f-faster, tetsuro,” you cried out as he sucked more hickies onto your neck. he curled his fingers and assaulted your g-spot harshly while you clenched on his fingers.

“you’re already close, i can tell,” and then he halted his movements, “but i don’t think you deserve to cum yet.” you whined.

and with that, he entered his fingers into your sensitive cunt once again, kissing his way down your body until he reached your clit which he greedily sucked. you let out small whimpers and moans and you swore you felt him smirk. then a sudden feeling of emptiness.

“fuck you!” you pushed kuroo off of you, getting on top and straddling his lap, “i’ll make myself cum.”

your lips met in a heated kiss and he groaned as you grinded on his clothed crotch, “you’re a fucking brat.”

“i don’t care. shut the fuck up and let me sit on your face.”

he brought your pussy up to his head and gripped your thighs ensuring that you would stay in place while you lifted up your skirt. you felt kitten licks on your clit which only made you go lower until you were able to feel more of his tongue. he licked a strip from your pussy back up to your nub, sucking it harshly. you let out another moan, gripping his hair which only egged him on. the wet muscle found its way into your pussy and fucked you deliciously.

“fuck, tetsu, i’m coming-”

with the sounds you made, your skirt, your tits, and the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, kuroo thought he was going to cream his pants. you shamelessly grinded on his face until the knot in your stomach became tighter and tighter until it eventually broke.

you removed yourself from his face and appreciated the image of your juices on his face, his thick lashes, and sharp cheekbones, until you snapped out of it and went to work on discarding his pants. slipping off his underwear, his cock sprang free. pre cum spilled from the pink tip. sucking a hickey on his inner thigh, you took his cock into your hand, slowly moving it up and down to agitate him as he thrusted into your fist. taking the tip in your mouth, you sucked gently until his hands found themselves tangling into your hair and pushed your head down until he hit the back of your throat.

“you look so good with your mouth stuffed full of my cock,” you sucked in your cheeks and he let out another groan, “who knew this was the way to get you to shut the fuck up.”

you could only moan at his response, sending vibrations down his dick. your head bobbed up and down until you pulled him out of your mouth. you smirked, drool and pre cum dripping down your chin, knowing you gave him a taste of his own medicine.

bringing up your lips to his ear, you spoke, “how does it feel now?”

he replied by pushing down onto the bed and pinning down your wrists. you could feel his tip rubbing your clit, “i was planning to cum in your pussy anyways, slut.”

you felt yourself get wetter at the sound of his voice until he swiftly pushed himself, instantly bottoming out. the stretch stung, but the mix of pleasure and pain had you wanting more. your skirt cinched around your waist, the sight making him even harder.

“fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” he gave you another kiss before he pulled out all the way and snapped his hips back into you.

his mouth made it way onto your hardened nipple, swirling the bud with his tongue as he set a fast pace for his thrusts. you were vocal, whining every time he buried his cock inside of you. wanting you closer, kuroo harshly grabbed your ass and pulled your body into a new position that hit deeper into you.

“you’re a fucking slut, you know that?” his pace quickened. you were a babbling mess, your breasts bouncing and the knot in your stomach tightening. the sound of your moans and skin slapping against skin filled the room as you came closer to your high. his hand squeezed the sides of you neck firmly. the only thing you were able to feel was him.

“you think atsumu can fuck you like this?”

you were unable to respond coherently as he pounded harder into you, your legs wrapping his waist as you came again. he kept going.

“how about i make you cum again, brat?”

“i-i don’t think i can,” you whimpered.

“sure, you can,” he gripped your hips tighter, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix. you felt completely spent, but he refused to quit. he brought his hand down to your clit, rubbing it harshly in fast circles and you felt your second high coming.

“f-fuck (y/n).” he let out a final groan as your pussy milked his cock while you saw stars.

kuroo laid on the bed while you two distanced yourselves. you didn’t know what to say, so you scanned your surroundings.

“shit.” you muttered. “what?”

“this is atsumu’s room.”

you both looked at each other for a few seconds before he let out a hyena laugh. you giggled along with him.

“how do you know?”

“i’ve been in here before. just didn’t quite register where we were. we could have fucked in a closet and i wouldn’t notice.” you answered in a light tone.

“so, you’ve been in atsumu’s room before?”

“i mean, yeah. to hang out and stuff,” you turned to him, “why do you care so much?”

“well i thought that reason was obvious considering we just had sex,” he grumbled, “now we’re three feet apart and everything feels awkward.”

“i mean i couldn’t tell if it was just sexual tension from hate or if you actually liked me. it’s kind of hard to tell considering other.. events?”

“well, i like you. i thought you were pretty ever since the first day i met you. i just didn’t know how to tell you so i insulted your perfume and gave you some highlighters,” he rubbed the back of neck, “sorry.” he added quietly.

“sorry,” he looked at you in shock, “for, uh, calling you an asshole, i guess.” you mumbled looking back at him.

“i’m also sorry for calling you a slut. i might have been a bit jealous when i saw you with atsumu. and semi that one night.” he awkwardly laughed and looked the opposite direction.

so he wasn’t good with his words. you scooted your body closer to him and wrapped your arms around him as you got into position to straddle his lap. your head rested on the crook of his neck and his breath hitched.

“don’t worry. you don’t have to say anything.” you kissed the spot below his ear and beamed at him when you pulled away. he swore his heart skipped a beat.

“why are you blushing?” you asked, smirking up at him.

“it’s the ethanol,” he said quickly attempting to hide his face by looking away, “you know how alcohol makes your face turn red and stuff.”

“is the alcohol also the only reason we just fucked?”

“n-no!”

“then do you want to go another round?” you asked innocently, grinding on him once again.

“ye-”

“(y/n)? what the fuck did you and rooster head do in my bed?”

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