#Why do I get congested when I drink alcohol?

[strawwritesfic]

Tony Stark x Female!Reader: Angel

Summary: Eccentric he may be, but Tony really does have a handle on the whole fatherhood situation, it seems.

Rating/Tags: T (Father!Tony; Mother!Reader; inaccurate information about breastfeeding and alcohol; alcohol consumption; Post-Age of Ultron; Avengers Tower; not canon compliant; Pepper & Natasha & Reader; Pepper & Natasha & Tony; child-centric; domestic fluff; separation anxiety)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginefire​

Angel

Being a first-time mother wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. You hadn’t expected it to be. Children–especially babies–were a big responsibility, and it didn’t help that your husband was a little eccentric. Nine months ago, you had given birth to a beautiful baby girl. Your life since then had been a whirlwind of sleepless nights, breastfeeding, and changing diapers. All the books told you you’d be busy, but none of them had suggested that you’d be so busy and worried that you would barely see anyone but your husband and daughter for nearly a year.

Apparently the strain was starting to show. When he had found you in hysterical tears while rocking Jasmine at three in the morning, Tony had had enough. You needed a day off, a day of beauty, a day of rest. Please, before he started crying, too. 

You weren’t so sure at first. Leave your daughter? With her father? And who even knew if you still had friends after all this time?

But Tony had put his foot down, and, in the end, you were glad he had. You were even gladder that Natasha and Pepper had been willing to drop everything and come out with you that night. Dinner without baby food being thrown in your face? Delightful. Adult discussion between three adult women? Divine. You almost hated for the evening to draw to a close, but it was dark outside, and you did hate to leave Tony alone to deal with Jasmine’s post-bedtime hunger pangs.

“Is Tony keeping you locked up in the tower over there? Do we need to stage a rescue attempt?” Natasha demanded when you voiced this sentiment.

You shot a discreet look to see if the driver of your limousine had heard this suggestion as the three of you slid in after dinner. Luckily, Happy did not look as though he cared at all what any of you had to say. 

“No,” you said, a little too quickly, then laughed.

“Good, ‘cause your hair is nowhere near close to being long enough for me to climb. I suppose I could get Clint to make me an entry point–”

“No rescue attempts,” interrupted Pepper. “That tower is still Stark Industries property, and I cannot tell you what a headache it is to get damage done by superheroes paid off by the insurance company.”

“You’re no fun, Pep. I don’t think you’ve had enough to drink,” Natasha said.

“And you’ve had too much. If you tried climbing up the tower tonight, I’d wind up with a suicide investigation on my hands on top of everything else.”

“Please. You act like alcohol affects me.”

“Oh, sure,” you broke in, “keep talking about wine in front of the breastfeeding lady. Not like it was bad enough watching you drink it over dinner.”

“Fine, fine.” Sitting back, Natasha peered out the window as the vehicle chugged slowly through the congested Manhattan streets. You must not have been very close your destination, because she soon turned her grin back to you. “I can’t believe you let us drink in front of you.”

“I can’t believe Tony lets you breastfeed,” Pepper said as she eyed your boobs.

You frowned and held a defensive hand in front of them. “Why wouldn’t he let me breastfeed?” you asked, and Natasha replied with an immediate amused snort.

“Well, he probably thinks of them as his, and we all know Tony doesn’t like to share,” said Pepper. “And it doesn’t exactly keep you…pert.”

“My breasts are plenty pert, thank you.” Though you shook your head, it wasn’t in earnest. It felt good to be back among your best friends, even with them teasing you so relentlessly. “Tony doesn’t care if I use them to feed our daughter so long as he gets to play with them later. He’s a good dad, you know?”

“Really?” 

You shot Pepper a look that she returned with a bashful smile. 

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s just…he’s Tony. He’s never been very responsible.”

“He’s responsible with Jasmine.”

“I’m gonna call B.S. on that one. If he’s so responsible, why’d it take you nine months to leave him alone with her?” Natasha asked.

“Thank you, Natasha,” Pepper said before you could answer.

“That has nothing to do with Tony,” you said flatly.

“Enlighten us,” said Natasha.”

“How?”

“What does he do?” Pepper asked. “Whenever I’ve come by to see her, Tony is nowhere around.”

“Because he’s busy,” you hedged.

“With what?” asked Natasha.

“I don’t know. Iron Man stuff.”

“Sounds about right,” Pepper muttered.

“He helps,” you said. “Just the other day he–”

“Ladies,” Happy interrupted as the door nearest to you popped open, “we’re here.”

“Thanks, Happy.” With no small amount of relief, you hopped out onto the pavement in front of Stark Tower. Your last name blazed in giant blue letters high above your head–the only lights on, save for a few inside one of the higher floors. “Goodnight!” you called, turning around. “Thank you for…”

Natasha and Pepper, both smirking, already stood outside the car.

“Will you be joining me?” you asked.

“Please,” said Natasha.

“I’d like to see evidence of this so-called responsible Tony you speak of,” Pepper added.

A pause, then you smiled widely. “Be my guests.”

With that, your troop (minus Happy, who left to find a place to park the limo) headed inside. The lobby’s overhead lights flashed on as you marched toward the lift, but not a soul stirred. No one remained on staff this late on weekends now that most of the Avengers had moved to the New Jersey facility. Normally the echoing emptiness didn’t bother you, but then normally you were inside your floor with your family. Out here without them, said emptiness was entirely too good at reminding you of your multitude of worries.

You hadn’t lied when you told Natasha and Pepper that Tony was responsible with Jasmine. It was also true that he was not the reason behind your self-imposed exile. Still, you couldn’t help remembering the last and only time before this that you had left your husband and daughter alone in the tower together.

Jasmine hadn’t been in any danger, of course. It was just that, in only the space of time it took for you to pick up groceries, he had somehow managed to get your daughter in the lower half of a tiny, infant-sized suit of Iron Man armor. He swore up and down that he had no plans to test out the suit’s flight capability, but the fact remained that he had built your baby a suit with flight capability to begin with. After that, your worry over what other things his paranoia might cause him to try didn’t seem so far-fetched.

Not that you were about to mention any of this to your friends. They didn’t need to know that you suffered from your own personal brand of paranoia as well. Besides, you and Tony had hashed all the rules out before you had left for the day. Nothing could have gone wrong, nothing at all.

“What is that?” Pepper asked suddenly, frowning at the lift’s roof. When you followed her gaze, you noticed that the ceiling was shaking slightly–a bad sign, but you did not realize just how bad until you felt bass start to rumble through the entire elevator.

“Sounds like somebody’s being real responsible,” Natasha observed. 

Heart in your throat, you glared at her, then rushed off the lift as soon as the doors rolled open. A wave of loud music hit you like a truck, forcing your eyes to screw shut.

“TONY!” you bellowed. Your voice didn’t even carry to your own ears. You let out a groan and stomped your way up the hall, completely forgetting about your companions in the process.

The rock music grew in volume the nearer you got to the kitchen, so you had to be going in the right direction. What did Tony think he was doing? No way could Jasmine sleep through this racket. And how could he hear her if she started crying? And here you had just been bragging to your friends and his business associates that he was a responsible parent! Responsible parents didn’t have loud parties when they were supposed to watching their children!

“Tony!” you screamed again, bursting through the silver doors into the room all the commotion was coming from. 

Again, you couldn’t even hear yourself, but that didn’t matter when you fell quiet almost instantly at the sight of your kitchen covered ceiling to floor in some sort of greenish goop. You covered your mouth with a gasp, and though that was quieter than your shrieking, it was enough movement, apparently, to catch the eye of the man wiping at the mess. He looked around, spotted you, and all of a sudden the music died away.

“Hey, honey. You’re home early.” Tony approached you, dirty rag in hand, to press a kiss to your cheek.

Instinctively, you shoved him away to scowl into his face. “What did you do to my house?” you said.

He came to a full stop, confusion washing cross his features. Your pointed look at the goop dripping slowly toward the tile seemed to clear that up for him. “Me?” he said incredulously. “That wasn’t me.”

“Who else was supposed to have done it? We agreed no parties!”

“Funnily enough, I do have the ability to recall something we discussed less than half a day ago. There was no party.”

And now Tony was lying to you! “What is all this, then? Where’s Jasmine? Tony, I trusted you to–”

“[Name],” came Pepper’s voice behind you. 

Startled, you turned to see her and Natasha standing there, with Natasha pointing wordlessly to the other side of the room. You whirled about and found Jasmine’s high chair sitting at the end of the kitchen island. Jasmine sat inside it, skin and dark hair covered in the same mashed-something all over your wall. She didn’t seem to notice you were there at all as she picked at the remains of the food on her tray.

Husband all but forgotten, you let out a quiet moan and raced over to your daughter to press your face into the top of her soft head. Your heart had not quite yet stopped racing when you heard Tony ask, “What are you two doing here?” from somewhere across the room.

“We wanted to see you being responsible,” Pepper answered.

“Looks like you did a good job, too,” said Natasha.

“FRIDAY!” Tony called.

“Yes, Boss?”

“We talked about this, didn’t we? We talked about you letting people walk into the house without giving me warning.”

“Miss Romanoff and Miss Potts came inside with Mrs. Stark. Does that still require notification?”

“A little notification might have been nice. Damn, I miss JARVIS.”

You didn’t bother getting involved with the inner workings of Tony’s AI’s programming. It seemed a far more important task to caress your daughter with open hands, checking each and every inch of her beautiful skin for any signs of damage–or perhaps faint indentations left by seams of armor. There were none. Jasmine was every bit as perfect as she had been when you’d left only a few hours ago. 

“She’s fine,” you said weakly. “Just fine.”

To your surprise, Tony had followed you there. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of Jasmine's head himself before rolling his eyes at you. “Sure, I’m the one that threw baby food at the wall. Not your perfect, precious angel.”

“I’d believe it,” said Pepper.

“Nobody asked you.”

With an eye roll of your own, you finally kissed Tony back. Jasmine really was fine, save for being nearly as dirty as your kitchen. A bath would fix that, though, something that couldn’t fix her making a hole in the ceiling if Tony had really decided to teach her to fly. 

“How did you get her to calm down?” you asked.

“Put on some better music,” he answered. “I tried that classical crap you suggested, and Jazz freaked out. Wouldn’t quit screaming until I changed the channel. She’s got good taste, I’ll give her that. Must have got that from her father,” he added with a smirk.

Shaking your head, you pivoted back to your friends. “See? Responsible. He’s great. Now, I’m sorry to kick you out, but we’ve really got to get started cleaning up before this stuff dries.”

You got set to walk Natasha and Pepper as far as the elevator door. There was a lot of scrubbing to do, both of the house and of your child. Before your trio could get very far, however, Tony stepped in the way. 

“Hey. You don’t have to leave just yet.,” he said.

"They…don’t?” you asked blankly, and then Tony was herding all of you back toward the other entrance.

“Of course not. [Name], you were gone for about two hours. While I understand why you don’t think I’m capable of giving you a quiet night out, it still wounds me. Jazz and I have got the situation handled. It’s only eight o’ clock. How about you grown-up girls go into the parlor for a nightcap and some chitchat?”

He ended by pressing his forehead against yours and staring very deeply into your eyes. It was always very difficult to resist Tony when he did that, but you still had to try. “But–”

“That’s an order.” After pressing a finger to your lips to prevent further arguing, Tony stepped away and gestured for the door. 

Natasha and Pepper looked at each other, looked at Tony, then looked at you.

“Sounds good to me,” Pepper said, shrugging.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” said Natasha.

They clearly needed no further urging. Without anything else being said, the two of them sauntered around the corner and disappeared. You, however, remained hovering in the doorway. So maybe you were suffering from a bit of separation anxiety, and maybe you just wanted to kick your friends out so you could get back to having your daughter all to yourself. Was that really so wrong?

“[Name], what’s the matter now?” Tony asked.

“I just–you don’t have to clean the mess up all by yourself,” you answered nervously, as though Tony would catch you in this obvious lie. 

He must have, because he let out one of his most dramatic sighs, the kind he usually reserved for when Pepper started heckling him about business, before placing both his (baby food-coated) hands on your bare shoulders.

“Let me be responsible for the kid for once. Think of it as me…asking for a favor. That’s it. I’m asking for a favor. Now go.”

With that, your eccentric husband shoved you out the door. A moment later, and his music started up again–a little quieter than before, though not by much. You had been unceremoniously banished. When you looked over at the bar, you spotted Natasha and Pepper already making themselves at home.

“Got you a Sprite ready,” Natasha called, pointing to a glass sitting on the counter after she caught your eye.

You heaved a sigh of your own. “Gee. Thanks,” you said as you walked over and picked up the cup. Both women clinked their own against yours, and you all took the first swig at the same time. Once you had downed yours, you made a face. “Worst night cap ever.”

They laughed. You even managed a smile in return. After all, Jasmine wouldn’t be a baby forever, and eventually you could go back to drinking real stuff. Until then, maybe it wasn’t so bad to give her some daddy-daughter time every once in a while. Judging by the singing, screaming, and pot-banging coming from the kitchen, those two were having the time of their lives together. And what did you know? Time away with Pepper and Natasha wasn’t so bad for you either.

[romantic1869]

Gods above and below, I love this so much bc you managed to put into words all (or damn nearly anyways) everything I think/feel about the whole TodoFam situation without being too harsh or too soft , it’s so beautiful

Poetry aside, lol, I love the way you lay Enji’s issues out -the main being that he’s essentially a bumbling idiot at his core who never knows what to say so he resolves things with his fists and never learns how to deal with things properly until it’s too late- but it also makes me realize just WHY I hate him so much (beside, ya know, being a self absorbed abusive prick);

He -in a loose way- reminds me of my own father (rest his soul), whom was a socially awkward ‘large’ man who ‘overcame’ his issues via unhealthy behavior; for my dad, it was alcoholism (started way too young by enabler parents bc he was the baby of 8 and almost 16yo so younger than their second youngest) and acting like a jackass goofball instead of violence, but that doesn’t change that he could be a mean, belligerent drunk at times and I still live with the trauma of that

While he never stopped drinking (which, besides depression and avoiding medical help for far too long, ultimately lead to his death of congestive heart failure in 2011, when I was a junior in high school) and he could be mean when drunk, he never raised his hands against me or my sister, and he ALWAYS apologized once he was coherent (usually only a few hours later, if that honestly), and I think that’s so important a realization -that guilt and remorse and making a point to apologize as soon as possible

My dad wasn’t perfect (far from), but he made an effort and always made sure my sister and I knew he loved us, even if some of the mistakes he made have left trauma on us (in addition to the generational trauma from our mom’s side but that’s a different kettle of fish to deal with)

Enji never actually apologizes (that I can remember? Correct me if I’m wrong but I feel like I’d remember a sorry from him) or makes an effort to spend time with his kids or do much of ANYTHING to truly atone for the 20+yrs of abuse and neglect and trauma, he just tries to control the narrative by assuming WHAT they would want and never putting any energy into trying to get to truly know them or ask what they want or even try and say how sorry he might be for everything he’s put them all thru

He doesn’t even truly apologize to Rei (not really anyways, the flowers are a token at best and an afterthought at worst even if he did remember her favorites), and it’s insane to me the way she’s treated as little more than an accessories to his (and Shouto’s) arcs; my parents separated when I was young bc of my father’s alcoholism, but he and my mom were always cordial and kind to each other (not always always but they didn’t go out of their way to be mean or cruel to each other and they made things work to the best of their abilities with what knowledge they had at their ages)

(Where was I going with this? 😅)

ANYWAYS, fact is, Enji’s efforts were selfish and half assed at best, but likely also colored HEAVILY by Japan’s cultural toxicity -ironically (and don’t crucify me for this) I actually think Enji had more character development that Deku did, but I’m not going to get into that. I can never like Enji bc of my own reasons colored by my experiences with my own dad, but I can at least admit that his character development is interesting if a little half assed -the ending (esp for Touya) still sucks tho and Rei stuck being a nursemaid for her abusive husband is just cruel

Endeavor: Physical Strength vs Emotional Strength

Or The Total Mess that is the Todoroki House.

*Note:  The following is not a defense of Endeavor nor is it excusing his actions.  It is a deep-dive analysis into the complexities and nuances of his behavior and how it affected his life and everyone else in that family based on observations I’ve made throughout the series. There are also comparisons with other objectively violent characters from other series.

Trigger Warning for domestic and child abuse.

...

We're gonna start out by looking at what happened to his character over the available time frame. Endeavor did not start out as a violent person to his family. We can see that in the flashbacks of the family's early days.

Starting here, note that he’s not cold toward Rei in this scene.  The way they’re walking around out here in the garden gives the impression that negotiations between him and Rei’s family are going well so far, but they’re out walking and talking in private just to make sure this arrangement is going to work and making sure further negotiation isn’t going to be a waste of everyone’s time.  I say this because if he was dead set on ice powers for this Quirk marriage, Rei probably wasn’t the only option.

It's also important to remember Rei did choose this. She chose for her family rather than herself, but it wasn't her parents' end all be all decision. (And maybe there was familial pressure on her side, but it's not explicitly stated in canon so exactly how much free will Rei actually had is up for interpretation.)

However what I think shows here is they weren’t really talking all that much. Specifically, he is not ‘talking down to her.’  He is not treating her with any particular disrespect or putting her down as inferior.   He doesn’t have the arrogance he later exhibits. This also isn’t him being aloof and ignoring her either.  Look at his face, specifically his eyes.  That is the same blank, deer in the headlights, “I have one brain cell dinging around in my head that is struggling to find a way to interact with people,” stare he shares with Shouto.

He has no idea what to say to her. 

So finally, Rei turns off to the side to admire the garden, and he asks, “Do you like the flowers?”  It’s a small thing, but it does show that in some capacity, he did show some interest in Rei and making her happy.  He’s just stupidly awkward about it at this point. (Even if his ultimate goal was…well, we’ll get into that.)

But this trait of never knowing what to say is a massive defining part of Endeavor’s character that has manifested in a myriad of disastrous ways throughout his entire arc.

Now I don’t think there’s enough shown about Endeavor and Rei’s relationship that we can conclusively say they ever loved each other at any point, but I do think they were, at the very least, cordial in the beginning.  They got along, they loved their children, and that in their minds was good enough for them. If you look at the scenes that are Touya and Fuyumi's early childhood, the family seems content. There's no sign of the abuse we see later.

The other big indicator that Endeavor was not originally a violent person to his family is the two very different ways he approaches training with Touya and Shouto. His motive for training them hasn't changed, but compared to the warmth and pride extended toward Touya we see in the above picture, Shouto’s experience with training in the second screenshot is harrowing and traumatic.

So why the difference?

A big reason is it has to do with age.  When Rei defends Shouto, telling her husband that, “He’s only five!” and Endeavor is still pushing their son to achieve the standards of an older child, yes, this does show his impatience. However, the other unspoken sentiment here is he himself is not getting any younger.  When Touya was born, Endeavor was twenty-two and had his whole life, career, and all his hopes with it ahead of him.  His kid has a greater Quirk than his, his legacy is secure, nothing to worry about.  But then they learn about the genetic issue with Touya’s Quirk.  He can’t use his fire safely, he’ll never be able to use it safely, and he will never be a hero in the way Endeavor can.

Touya:  Failure

Fuyumi:  Failure

Natsuo:  Failure

Shouto was probably viewed as his last chance.  Endeavor was getting older and running out of time.  If Shouto didn’t work out, then this legacy was dead in the water. At least, I hope Shouto was the last chance, otherwise he might've tried getting another kid out of Rei, divorced Rei and married someone else for the same reason, or attempted securing his successor through a grandchild.

Which is some freaky medieval way of thinking.

Anyone else getting Henry VIII vibes here?

Remember what I said about him never knowing what to say? The most obvious example of this is his complete and total inability to control the situation with Touya.

The tragedy of both Touya and Fuyumi's characters is they are the only two kids in the house who remember the happier childhood, and they both cling to that in their own way. It's why Fuyumi is so determined to 'fix things.' She's trying to regain the family they lost. For Natsuo and Shouto, things have always been bad in the house, hence why Natsuo bailed as soon as he could.

Then we have Touya. His flashbacks start with him at a toddler age. It is very common and normal for a child that young to prefer one parent over the other, but usually it's the parent they're most familiar with: The one that stays home with and takes care of them. Remember, to a toddler, everything is new and potentially scary, and that can also include a parent that is not always present: The parent that's working. In the Todoroki house, Endeavor has his career as a hero, so we have the indication that Rei was the parent who stayed home. In that situation, the probability of Rei being the 'familiar parent' was more likely, so for Touya to prefer his father over his mother shows just how close he was to Endeavor. Or because Fuyumi was the new baby and needed more attention, he could have gravitated away from Rei and gone to his father instead. He didn't see his father's ambitions for him. He didn't see that he was a successor as opposed to a son.

What he, through a child's innocence, saw and understood was that his father loved him and wanted to spend time with him.

Cue the genetic disparity of his Quirk: Where Endeavor failed as a parent was him never talking to Touya about what had happened. He didn't sit down with him and explain it wasn't safe for him to use his Quirk.

The My Hero world has a social problem of Quirks defining one's worth. It's not just the PLF's philosophy. Having no Quirk is viewed with pity and having a Quirk that can't be used could be viewed as a disability by this society, regardless of the fact it's completely possible to live a healthy life without having a Quirk. So Touya's 'issue' required compassion and understanding, especially from a parent. What Endeavor needed to say and what Touya needed to hear was, "This is a path that is blocked to you, it isn't your fault this happened, and I will love you regardless."

Instead, he just dropped him completely. (Given his character, I doubt he's even the one who broke the news to him.) In Touya's eyes, he didn't have the adult nuance to understand why he was being ignored; he just had the child innocence of, "I don't want to hang out with Mom and Fuyumi, I want to be with Dad. Why is he ignoring me? Why won't he train me anymore?"

What Touya learned from this is he only has value in his father's eyes as a hero. So he began training himself to be a hero because he was desperate to get that love and affection back. When Endeavor discovers the fact he's been training and burning himself, Touya never apologizes for disobeying him. He just repeatedly says variations of, "I can do this, then maybe you'll finally be proud of me."

Fuck, dude, just tell the poor kid you're already proud of him. That's all he needed to hear.

And Rei does call Touya out on this. She asks him, "Do you want to be a hero because you want to be a hero or are you doing this because it's what your father wants?"

In order words: "Are you doing this because you think it will make your father love you?"

And we come full circle to the 'death' of Touya where he realized, "I was never a son. I was a product."

...

Endeavor never addresses the problem going on under his roof. He handed the problem off to Rei. He didn't know what to say, he didn't know (and still doesn't) how to be a parent, and instead of confronting that lapse in his character, he instead made a coward's retreat back into the safe and familiar territory of being a hero.

This was the catalyst for his violence to his family.

Being a hero means fighting villains.

Fighting villains is often solving problems with violence.

Because he never knows what to say, he didn't know how to properly navigate a complex emotional situation, so he resorted to the only method he knew that worked:

Beat it into submission.

And since we have the previously mentioned signs they were once a happy, normal family, I have a feeling the violence began very suddenly and without warning.

...

To back this up, I'm gonna give a little personal insight here. I used to work in an orthopedic clinic and a lot of injuries that came through were hand injuries due to someone punching a wall out of anger/frustration.  You may think this is fine since they didn’t hit another person and only hurt themselves, but the issue with taking your aggression out on even an inanimate object is you are unwittingly training your brain to associate anger with violence and make it all the more likely for you to lash out violently against another person.

Throughout his career, Endeavor has conditioned himself into this same mindset of repeatedly forging and reinforcing the physical connection of violence with the mental/emotional connection of anger.

Look at this scene from Arcane.

If you haven't seen this series yet, 1.) Get on that. You're missing out. (Don't worry, there's not too many spoilers below.) and 2.) This is Vi and this screenshot is from a scene where she, in a moment of anger and grief, strikes her little sister hard enough in the face to knock her to the ground.

Look at the horror in her eyes when she realizes what she’s done.

Now before and after this moment, we see Vi undoubtedly loves her sister and would die for her. (Season 2 pending...) The first thing she does when they're reunited is hug her and tell her how sorry she is. But Vi has also been a fighter all her life. The sisters grew up in the rough part of town, they had to fight to survive, and they've experienced a violent atmosphere from a young age. We also see that when Vi gets frustrated or angry, she punches/slaps inanimate objects, so she too subconsciously associated violence with intense emotions, and in a moment of blind rage/grief, she failed to dissociate and she hurt her sister.

It wasn't a conscious decision, but it happened nonetheless.

What follows is she walks away from Powder. She doesn't go far, she just puts some distance between herself and her sister to calm down and process what's happened and hopefully find a way to move forward. Only, for unrelated reasons that don't pertain to this topic, she is apprehended by authorities and spends the next 6-7 years in prison, obsessing over her regrets and finding her way back to Powder.

She is never going to forgive herself for this.

I bring this scene up because as far as fiction is concerned, we as the audience do often excuse a character losing their temper and hitting a loved one once. What Vi did was not okay, but because it only happened that one time, nobody is labeling Vi as 'abusive.'

...

So consider the first time Endeavor hit Rei. We don't see it in canon, but with all the indicators of a relatively happy home, I believe that first act of violence was the culmination of these factors:

Endeavor's ongoing inferiority complex with All Might and the frustration in his inability to surpass him, and then projecting that frustration onto his family.

The career of solving problems with violence.

The subconscious association of anger with violence resulting from that career.

I'm also going to throw out the possibility of multiple head injuries incurred from his career playing a role. Traumatic brain injuries can and often do lead to behavioral changes where an individual has trouble managing emotional responses, experiences anxiety, has a shorter temper, etc.

Obviously, none of the above should be treated as excuses (not even the TBI possibility because there's therapy options for that), but they are potential contributors to the pivotal moment of frustration and impatience where Endeavor, like Vi, failed to dissociate and did something he couldn't take back.

Striking Rei is his tea kettle incident. Think back to the awkward moron who didn't have a clue what to say to her when they first met. That young man never thought he would do something like this. That first moment when he hit Rei, I really don't think it was a conscious decision and it may have taken him off guard as much as it did Rei. Like Vi, he probably acted out of blind anger and may have been just as horrified by what he'd done, and I can imagine Endeavor walking away from that to calm down and process that he crossed a line he thought he would never cross.

Unlike Vi, who was going to return to Powder after calming down so she could apologize, beg forgiveness, and move forward, Endeavor is an emotional coward who never knows what to say or how to confront a complex emotional hurtle. So he did the same thing he did with Touya: He retreated from the problem and pretended it didn't exist, and because it was never addressed and he was never held accountable, it only got worse. The lid was off and there was no getting it back on.

I'm not saying there was a definite chance he could have come back from that (that ball was in Rei's court as much as it was Powder's) but Endeavor had a choice:

He could have addressed what he'd done and made amends by submitting to whatever consequence Rei set down for him.

Or he could have rationalized his own twisted justifications for what he did.

He chose wrong.

For another comparison of the violence aspect, I’m also going to bring up Shizuo Heiwajima from Durarara!!, a character who I think flies off the handle far more frequently than Endeavor does.

If you haven't seen Durarara!!, same as above with Arcane.

The nuance of Shizuo is the intense rage he experiences, the violence that follows, and his own inner turmoil. He associates violence with anger, but these are traits that he fully recognizes as detrimental to himself and his personal relationships with other people. He has a temper, he gets violent, he lashes out with abnormal strength and has seriously injured many people.

But the people he's attacked are usually people who provoked him, whether it's thugs who opted to harass him on the street or he heard that a friend was in trouble and rushed off to help them. Not that violence is the answer, but they were people who arguably deserved a beating. More importantly, though, is the way Shizuo treats his relationships with caution. He's a loner by choice. He does want to connect with other people, but he keeps his distance because he legitimately fears harming someone he cares about. Because of his caution and self-awareness, he is a complicated and likable character that I think anyone with a short temper who has said or done things they regret can relate to.

If he didn’t have that level of control on himself and was violent with everyone regardless of who they were to him, he would be despised by the fandom as much as Endeavor is.

This is how Durarara!! can get away with presenting a violent character in a comedic fashion. Shizuo, despite his temper, is an absurdly strong guy, a little bit of an idiot, and fiercely loyal to his friends. All three of those are endearing qualities.

And in the right framing, Endeavor's violence is also presented as comedic.

This scene is funny, but grabbing Hawks like that and lifting him off the ground is technically assault and it is intimidation. Replace Hawks with Rei and this scene changes drastically from funny to very unsettling. Replace him with Touya and it's a fight.

...

Where Endeavor really differentiates from Vi and Shizuo is marked by two important factors:

Shizuo, for all his claims at being unable to control his anger, has it very much under control around the people he cares about. He really only lets loose against a perceived threat.

Vi mostly has that same control even though she lost it for a moment, but she was also separated from her sister in an indirect punishment for her actions.

Endeavor does not have Shizuo's restraint nor did he face any immediate consequences like Vi.

Which brings us to Rei.

I have mixed feelings when it comes to Rei, and the absolute harshest opinion I have of her is that she is pathetic and she failed her children. And I know that's a very black and white, cold-hearted view, but hear me out because it's a lot more complicated than that.

Endeavor is ultimately responsible for his own actions, but Rei also had the option to deal with the problem when it started. When he started hitting her, she could and should and have taken the kids and run as fast as she was able and not looked back. No amount of financial security, family appearance, or whatever justification one finds in this scenario is worth it. She should not have tolerated that abuse against herself and she definitely should not have subjected her children to that. While there's nothing conclusive to say Endeavor was physically harming any of the kids aside from Shouto, not fighting for her autonomy/safety was inadvertently teaching all four of them this is how men treat their wives, women are supposed to tolerate this treatment, and a marriage like this is 'normal.'

And in the end, she straight up abandoned her children. We see from Shouto's point of view right before she attacked him with the tea kettle. She's talking to her mother on the phone, saying she 'can't take it anymore' and she just wants to 'run away from this life.' Well...considering she goes on to spend the next ten years in a psych ward and left her children to her abusive husband...she did get what she wanted. Ten years and she really didn't put any more effort in trying to get back to them? She knew Endeavor was hurting her youngest. Going home and protecting her babies should have been her priority. For a long time, I legitimately thought she was in Fujiya because she was considered unsafe to rejoin society whether she was a danger to herself or to others. When she shows up in Endeavor's hospital room, I stared at the screen and thought, "The fuck? She could discharge herself at any point?"

All right, now that I've gone over my hard-line point of view, let me dial back the judgment and consider what else is going on here:

Rei is a refrigerated character.

She has very little characterization beyond her abuse and being the victimized mother in Shouto's story, so we don't know all that much about her. In all fairness, her oldest son suddenly dying while she was hospitalized certainly would have contributed to her downward spiral and account for her prolonged hospitalization.

She tolerated her abuse longer than she should have, but it is possible:

She learned that from her own parents. Tolerating abuse is often a byproduct of generational trauma. Maybe her father treated her mother the same way and she grew up thinking this was normal.

Maybe the first time Endeavor hit her, she rationalized it into a point of acceptance where she told herself that everything was fine and that it was only the 'one time' and it wouldn't happen again, a sentiment she kept repeating every time it happened.

Maybe she was raised to believe ‘the man of the house is always right,’ and that is a mindset that is hard to break if instilled from childhood.

Her parents certainly didn’t seem all that supportive with what was going on, but we also don’t know how much she told them. We don't even know if that one phone call she had with her mom was the first time she reached out for help after years of pretending everything was fine or if this was was something she was repeatedly updating her parents about and those parents chose to be aloof to it.

Maybe she really did grow up in a loving home and just didn't know what to do when confronted with the violent relationship she found herself in.

Maybe she was gaslit into believing it wasn't abuse.

Maybe she really did report the abuse and the godforsaken, root-of-all-evil Safety Commission told her, "Your husband's a hero. Stay quiet and don't ruin that public image." Basically told her to suck it up. That is also a possibility, and one I think could be the most likely, but the series doesn't really go into just how corrupt the Commission was, so we're in headcanon territory.

Maybe she did try to take the kids and run but failed to get away. (Unlikely since it’s never mentioned in canon.)

Not everyone is fortunate enough to have an upbringing that instills the belief, 'if your partner hurts you, they are dead to you' and not everyone has the good fortune of a reliable support network that can help them recognize a bad situation and get them out of it.

Given how well-known Endeavor is to the public, maybe Rei was afraid no one would believe her about the abuse. "A hero would never do such a thing. She's making it up for attention. Her family was poor, so she must be a gold-digger trying to screw over her hero husband in the divorce proceedings."

There is also the important fact that Japan has a social stigma against divorce. Persevering for the sake of family stability and maintaining an ideal appearance is a deeply ingrained cultural norm, which does introduce a troubling power imbalance between a husband who works and a housewife who doesn't have her own independent income. We also have to remember that Rei and her family were financially dependent on Endeavor, so she may have feared the monetary fallout at the prospect of leaving him. Also, with the popularity of the hero ranking system, the No. 2 Hero's wife divorcing him would have been very public and potentially humiliating for all involved.

And we can’t ignore the fact that Endeavor systematically broke her down into a shell of a person who couldn't see a way out of her situation and was tormented to the point she had a psychotic episode and attacked Shouto, the very child she tried to protect. And this too could have contributed to her prolonged hospitalization if this was the final straw and she viewed herself as a failure of a mother.

Maybe it was a combination of two or several of the above factors.

At the end of the day, abuse is a multi-faceted beast, and just as the abuse comes in many forms, the victim can have any number of reasons for staying in their situation.

So even though I have my harsh opinion of Rei and I think she should have done more to protect her children, I do 100% sympathize with her. She is a victim and she in no way deserved what she went through.

But while her inaction wasn't the cause of the crisis in her family, it was definitely a contributor to how badly it got out of hand because whatever the reason Rei didn't expose Endeavor or try to take the children and leave him, that lack of accountability opened up the opportunity for him to rationalize his own twisted justifications for his actions.  “It’s fine. She deserved it because ______. She was 'acting out.' She was overreacting. She doesn't know what she's talking about.”  Whatever he needed to tell himself to believe he didn’t do anything wrong even though he knew he wasn’t fooling himself or anyone.

She didn't stand up to him. Their children couldn't stand up to him.

So he continued the physical abuse unchecked.

...

Moving on into the redemption arc.

After the Kamino Incident, Endeavor finally, finally, finally got that vaunted No 1. Hero spot he'd been chasing for two decades. But he didn't earn it the way he wanted to by proving he's the best of the best. All Might retired, so he won by default.

And then he finds it's just one spot further up on a ranking system that means absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. So he looks back at what's really important and he sees the charred skeleton frame of a house he burned down.

One institutionalized wife

One dead son

One daughter who clings to the memories of a happier home

One estranged son

One son who only has a use for him as a teacher and not a parent and will probably drop him the second he no longer needs him

In spite of everything, I do genuinely think the man deserves some credit for at least being willing to make an attempt at reconciliation. Not a lot since he dug that hole himself, but let's face it, a lot of lesser people would have looked at that mess and thought, "Fuck it, no going back now," and continued business as usual. So the question becomes:

Is Endeavor trying to redeem himself out of a need to make himself feel better about everything he's done or is he truly doing it for the benefit of the people he's hurt?

I tentatively think/hope could be a mix of both--I believe there is a part of him that cares about his children--but it definitely skews more toward making himself feel better because there's never a moment before the redemption arc begins where he's isolated, thinking back on everything, and just has the appropriate, "What have I done?" revelation. If his remorse was genuinely all about his family, we would have had that 'crying in the hospital scene' a whole lot sooner.

I think if Horikoshi wanted to portray Endeavor's redemption as genuine remorse for what he did to his family, I think he would have put more of a focus on Endeavor actually seeing the impact of what he'd done and feeling the inner turmoil and regret. Not just Natsuo's anger but also seeing firsthand Shouto's isolation and complete lack of social skills as a result of his training or having a conversation with Fuyumi where she admits she never wants to marry or have children because she doesn't 'want to risk ending up like Mom.' Seeing the effects of his behavior, realizing it's his fault.

So no. While there may be a part of Endeavor that loves his children (or he tells himself that he does), his wanting to atone is inspired mainly by his self-worth. He realized the ends did not justify the means and he tries to fix it.

But either way, how does he go about it?

The biggest change he makes toward earning forgiveness is to his hero career, which tracks with his character. That's familiar territory, so it's easier for him to navigate. He takes a significantly gentler method of teaching/mentorship with Shouto and he tries a kinder approach with his fans. That's progress, but it's still avoidance of the main issue that is the rift he caused with the other members of the family.

His relationship with Fuyumi doesn't have much friction. Fuyumi clings to their family's happier memories. With Touya gone, she was the only child who could remember a childhood without fighting parents, abuse, and suffering siblings. In a twisted way, this is something she and Touya have in common. So it makes sense that she would be the one who's the most receptive to Endeavor's attempts to be a better father. She sees this change as their best chance at being a normal family again. Like Touya, she wanted her father back.

Natsuo is different. He was 3-4 years old when the toxicity in their household really began to spike and when the violence started. Incidentally, this is also when memory cells in the brain start to fully develop and form concrete memories. Compared to his older siblings, the abuse is all he knows and that is why he's the child who left and went low-contact. The only thing Natsuo's really done wrong is start family drama when there's company over for dinner. I mean, c'mon. That's just rude. Don't do that in front of guests.

While Endeavor makes attempts to better his training methods/fan interaction, what he doesn't do is call a family meeting to discuss things, not that this would have resolved anything by a long shot, but it would have established a baseline of where everyone in the family was at and whether or not forgiveness was even on the table at all. It is an extremely arrogant thought for Endeavor to think forgiveness for something of this magnitude is possible, and if he wanted to seek forgiveness (or to atone, whatever the hell that means) for the lifelong mistreatment of family, he should have been more prepared for the most abject, humble groveling to the people he wronged that he could manage.

He should have admitted to his mistakes and faults, laid out everything he'd done wrong, apologize for that as best he could, then express he wanted to repair their relationship and be a family again while also acknowledging that he understands if that is not possible. Lay down that groundwork, maybe be open to family therapy so that a professional third party can act as a mediator and provide impartial guidance, figure out where the boundaries are, acknowledge he can't give them back their ruined childhoods but he can *insert anything Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shouto ask as recompense, even if it's just leaving their lives forever*, and listen for once to what his family is saying.

Instead, he tries to have normal conversations with his children as if nothing bad ever happened. He offers to come watch Shouto's remedial training like that's a totally ordinary thing for him to do. He tells Natsuo during the family dinner that he would like to try his cooking some time. That is a good olive branch! There is nothing wrong with saying that, but without that prior baseline conversation, it comes off as contrived and that's how Natsuo interpreted it. He sends flowers to Rei, also a good signal to send, but he should have done the the uncomfortable thing and contacted her through her physician to see if she's open to meeting with him for a conversation or sending her a letter she could choose to open at any time (or send back unopened.) That would have established that same baseline and helped move forward towards the atonement he wanted.

But he does the same thing he always does: He pretends the real issue just doesn't exist and he tries to control the situation to suit him.

Why?

Say it with me: He never knows what to say! He can't navigate complex emotions!

He doesn't try to find out if his family is even willing to forgive him, frankly because he's an emotional coward who doesn't want to hear the answer.

However, we cannot say he has no character development at all.

There is one thing worth noting around this point in the plot that I think is important to recognize. If Endeavor ever had any character development that was in favor of his redemption, it was when Natsuo was kidnapped and nearly killed, and it's not because he ran and hugged him in the street.

In this scene, he admits to Natsuo that his actions might as well have killed Touya.

This is a small thing, but it also huge because you have to consider that up until this time, Endeavor has been gaslighting himself into believing it was Touya's fault for getting himself killed or Rei's fault for not doing as she was told and watching him. He could even have been irrationally blaming All Might for just being a barrier to his goals. Any warped excuse and justification he could think of to escape the blame.

It's not a lot, but he did finally give voice to the guilt that he is the reason he failed and his child died. He finally acknowledged that the blame lies squarely with him and no one else, and acknowledging he drove Touya to his own death means way more than just talking about his intentions to atone.

He took accountability here, at least within the family.

That is one point he's earned. We as the audience can begrudgingly concede that one.

But this progress is again stalled when Endeavor makes the decision that it would be best for his family if he distances himself from them. He chooses to build another house for them where they can all live together with their mother and away from his shadow.

The initial reaction I had to this decision was, "Okay, your solution is kicking them out of the only home they've ever known?" But then I considered that having those kids leave a house where they lived through a traumatic and stressful childhood was a good call. Natsuo already bailed, after all. And then there's Fuyumi... Yeah, you know what, maybe a conversation would have been appropriate here. Instead of finding out what they want, he goes and decides it for them like he always does.

Touya has a genetic disparity that prevents him from using his Quirk safely? Endeavor decides he shouldn't be a hero, disregarding any possibility of finding a potential workaround.

Shouto finally uses his fire at the Sports Festival? Endeavor has his whole speech that pretty much shows he has Shouto's entire life planned out after graduation.

He wants to do what's best for his family? He decides what's best for them.

And we're back to the big dumbass never knowing what to say and still running away from the main issue by making assumptions and decisions without actually considering the thoughts/opinions of the people around him and controlling the situation to his benefit.

He may have his intention to do better, but he has no idea what he's doing. He doesn't know how to relinquish his authority role.

And then we have Touya with his, "Bitch, you thought!" grenade. Or is it a nuke?

It's important to note is that failure to articulate emotion in a healthy way is a trait that is shared by all of the Todoroki family members.

Endeavor - the emotional coward who resorts to violence when confronted with an uncomfortable situation

Rei - the passive mother

Fuyumi - the peacekeeper and people-pleaser

Shouto - the child who was systematically deprogramed into an angry husk imitating his father that he has only recently started to recover from

Touya and Natsuo are the only two who actually have some pushback against the bullshit in their family. Touya's a whole kettle of insane fish who's warped psyche deserves a character analysis of its own, but the point is, even as a kid, he doesn't creep around his father or try to make peace with him. Natsuo also has no problem calling out Endeavor for everything that went wrong in his childhood, plus he moved out and went to college as soon as he could.

Touya - the unstable sociopath who shares his father's tendency to violently lash out while stuck with the mental fragility of his mother

Natsuo - the traumatized avoidant

Neither of them have a functional way of dealing with their issues. (In fact, Touya is so unhinged about it that the door has peaced out and is halfway down the street.)

Endeavor wanted to atone for what he did...by burying and not actually taking any real accountability until the unavoidable moment Touya is screaming down to him, "Is it because you became No. 1 that you finally paid attention to your family?"

Touya has a warped view of the world brought on by years of trauma, but he hit the nail on the head.

Endeavor's main motivation for atonement is for the self-satisfaction.

So we have the symbolism of Endeavor, who has always used his physical strength to solve his problems by beating them into submission and used his intimidating height to glare down at everyone beneath him, and then we have Touya standing on top of a mountain, shouting down. Endeavor's in a position where he's looking up at his dead child, who is arguably the broken bough, elephant in the room, core unavoidable reason a full atonement was never going to be possible, bringing about a twenty-year overdue reckoning.

And he once again doesn't know what to say.

As the story ends, this is where we leave him: Crippled, looking up at his dying child, and confronted by one of the lives he ruined. By choice, he's going to sit here and face what he did. These talks are not going to be pleasant. I doubt Touya is so burned out and exhausted that he doesn’t have the heart to spit out more of the lifetime of vitriol he’s built up.

I know a lot of fans were disappointed Horikoshi didn’t kill Endeavor off in the end, but I personally prefer to look at it this way:

Some characters deserve death.

But some deserve to live in despair.

...

To revisit Arcane, I think this quote neatly sums up Endeavor.

[uvobreakmylegs]

Detour

I’m excited that it’s fall but i’m also sad that i won’t be able to swim anymore

Warnings: death, graphic depictions of violence, creepy behavior, groping, mentions of smut, kidnapping

The two guys at the gas station check out counter had been there when Phinks had first walked through the sliding glass doors, and they were still there when he approached the check out himself, having only dropped in to grab another pack of beer. The gas station clerk seemed annoyed while the two guys were pulling their pockets inside out, evidently in search of any spare change that may have been hiding on their persons. There was a sad pile of jenny and some change sitting in front of the clerk while she waited for them impatiently, and she seemed ready to push all of the money back towards them as it became more and more likely that these two didn't have enough cash for the assortment of alcohol and junk food that also sat on the counter.

Any other time Phinks would've been annoyed by the situation. But seeing as he didn't have anywhere to be, he found that he didn't really care all that much. The troupe likely wouldn't meet back up for some time which left his schedule quite open, and he had found it difficult to find something to occupy his time with while he waited for the boss to bring everyone together again.

Phinks had decided that a road trip was a decent way to pass the time. It was something he'd never really done before and so far it was easing his boredom as he had hoped it would. There was no real time limit he had set on himself or any destination that he had in mind. He'd just keep doing whatever he felt like until the novelty of the trip wore off and then go home.

“Would you like to take a few items off?”

The tired voice of the clerk cut through his thoughts, and Phinks found that there had been no progress with the two in front of him.

“No no, we need all of it,” one of the men, a redhead, insisted, “we just, uh....”

Trailing off, the man glanced over to Phinks, who was still waiting with his single pack of beer. Then the man looked over to his companion and then back to the items on the counter.

Phinks could already sense what the man was going to ask of him before he spoke out.

“Hey man,” the guy said to Phinks, “I know it sounds bad, but do you think you could spot me on this? I'm bringing this stuff back for my party. We ran out of some stuff way quicker than we expected. Can't let people down, y'know?”

The redhead started telling him how much more they needed until the clerk interrupted him to tell him off for harassing other customers for money. A mini argument started between the two, with the man insisting that he wasn't harassing anyone and the clerk disagreeing with him. The man's friend joined in shortly after and it was quickly turning into a mess.

What obnoxious fucking people.

If he was in more of a bad mood he'd have probably snapped the necks of all of them. The presence of cameras stopped him from doing that, however, as it would just be too much of a pain to go to the back and destroy the footage after. Still, even though he didn't have anywhere to be, it didn't mean that he wanted to waste his time listening to people bicker. The easiest way out of this was to just give them the jenny so they'd all shut up.

After pulling out his wallet, Phinks slid the jenny across the counter.

That shut the three of them up, and the two men were quick to express their gratitude while the clerk just looked tired.

“Thank you so, so much, man,” the redhead continued after they collected their bagged items.

“Mm-hm.”

Phinks was only half-paying attention to him as he waited for the clerk to scan the beer so he could hand her the jenny owed. That transaction went much quicker and Phinks was soon making his way to the exit.

The two men seemed to be waiting on him, though.

“Hey, since you helped us out, you wanna come to my party?” the redhead asked.

Normally his automatic response would've been to give him a flat “no”. But in this instance Phinks just shrugged.

That seemed to give the redhead hope, and he began listing the reasons why Phinks should follow them back, like his “cool house”, hot women and great beer.

Given the especially cheap brand of beer Phinks had largely paid for, he had a hard time believing that last point. He also wasn't quite sure why this guy was so insistent on getting him to come along. Was it really just because Phinks had bothered to help them out?

“Name's Stu by the way. Back there is Billy,” the redhead told him, sticking out his arm to shake hands. When Phinks didn't do the same, Stu seemed a bit dejected, yet even that didn't make him back down from inviting Phinks.

“So how 'bout it, man? You wanna come?”

“.... I'll think about it,” he told him.

“Okay, but do it fast man. My place isn't that far from here.”

Phinks nodded, and Stu ran off to the car where his friend was waiting. The other guy didn't seem as keen on Phinks as the redhead had, regarding the blonde with suspicion. Phinks could hear him saying something as the two entered the car. Stu seemed to brush him off, and then their car doors closed and Phinks couldn't hear anything else.

The two ended up pulling out of the parking lot before he did, and Phinks found himself following them as they all made the same turn onto the highway.

He still had no real urge to go to some random guy's party, especially when he found him to be pretty annoying. And if it was a party filled with the friends of someone like that, he'd probably get irritated with all of them pretty quick. Better to just ignore them and be on his way.

Although the thought of just driving aimlessly through the night wasn't all that attractive, either. He'd done that several times now, and the feeling of being the only person in the world while he drove on the empty highway had lost its touch by now.

The car in front of him veered off the highway to get onto a side road.

After a few seconds, Phinks did the same, just thinking to himself 'why not?'. It would be something different, a little detour on a trip that was meant to be a distraction, and if it ended up being something that he didn't want to bother with, then he could just leave.

Although the noise level in the house wasn't quiet, it was nowhere near ear-shatteringly loud as Phinks may have expected. At least it had that in it's favor. Other than that, it was a stereotypical frat house party, with everyone talking and drinking as they got more and more shitfaced.

The two who brought him here vanished into the kitchen, and Phinks began to make his way around the house, sipping one of the cans of beer he had bought for himself since he had no interest in the shit the host had him pay for. A girl in one of the upstairs rooms noticed the beer in his hand and begged him to share with her, even going as far as to tug on the sleeve of his jacket when he told her no. He ended up pushing her away, and though he had tried to use as little force as possible, his strength combined with her tipsiness caused her to stumble back into a wall. She was still whining about him when he walked back down the stairs, going on about how mean he was.

He thought he'd been pretty nice to her, all things considered.

It didn't take long for Phinks to lose interest in this particular distraction. Not that he'd been expecting much, but after going around the house and not even seeing anything that might be worth stealing, he figured it'd be best to leave soon. With his short temper being one of his vices, he didn't want to deal with what would happen if some drunk got on his nerves and he smashed them into the wall.

With the sights, sounds and smells became grating to him and seeing no reason to stay any longer, Phinks went about trying to find an exit. Attempting to get out the same way he came in was put to a stop when he saw how congested the front entrance had become. He could've easily pushed past all of them, but since that would likely draw a fair amount of attention, maybe it'd be a better idea to find a different way out. Phinks wandered into the kitchen, walking by Stu who tried to talk to him. A patio door leading to the backyard caught his eye and he ignored the party's host as he walked by several people to get to it.

The cool air outside felt refreshing and he let out a soft sigh as the patio door slowly swung closed. Claustrophobia generally wasn't something he had an issue with, but that seemed to change a little when he was faced with a house full of drunken strangers who didn't understand the meaning of personal space. Another nice thing was the fact that no one else seemed to be out here. He didn't think it was that cold out, but it worked just fine if the people inside thought otherwise.

He stood on a deck with an assortment of patio furniture that sat in front of an in ground pool, and when he looked to the side, he saw the gate within the fencing that surrounded the backyard.

That was his way out, then.

With no more reason to stick around, he was about to head out and back to his car-

But he paused when he heard the sound of splashing water, and he looked back to the pool.

So he wasn't the only person out here.

Some of the patio furniture had blocked you from his sight so he hadn't noticed you at first, but you were now swimming out into the center of the pool and impossible to miss. It was pretty late in the year for swimming, wasn't it? Yet you seemed to be content with yourself despite the temperature and lack of company, swimming around the pool like you owned it. Maybe you did; he wasn't sure what your relation was to the party host.

Then your eyes met, and you smiled as you greeted him.

“Hello.”

“... Hey.”

He hadn't come out to look for company. He was looking to leave.

Yet something about this situation, about you, intrigued him, and Phinks walked forward, continuing with “isn't it a little late in the season for swimming?”

“That's what everyone seems to think,” you said, “it's going to be drained tomorrow, so I wanted to swim one more time before that. It's the last chance I'll get for this year.”

“No public pools around here?” he asked.

“I don't really like public pools,” you told him, laughing a little bit as you continued “the ones around here are never clean, and I don't wanna swim around in nasty water.”

Phinks couldn't say if he really had an opinion one way or the other. He tried to avoid situations where he'd need to be shirtless in public, as the spider with the number 5 on his ribs would've been a dead giveaway for anyone who understood it's meaning. He just shrugged at you as he said “fair enough.”

Phinks now stood at the edge of the pool while you swam up to the edge.

“I don't think I've seen you before. You new around here?” you asked him.

“No. Just passing through. Helped out the host at the gas station and he invited me as thanks,” Phinks explained, “I was expecting this to be taking place at some shitty apartment; didn't think a guy like that owned a house.”

“He doesn't, it belongs to his older brother Jed. Stu just lives with him,” you responded.

“Ah.”

That made a bit more sense to him. Since he hadn't been able to buy beer from a gas station on his own, it didn't seem likely that the guy would've had his own house. So he was just leeching off of his brother.

Despite being ready to leave just minutes earlier, he found that he now had a reason to want to stay here longer. But standing and talking to you was getting a little awkward, so Phinks sat himself down on the concrete next to the pool. So far you weren't annoying compared to some of the others. And despite being by yourself beforehand, you seemed pretty open to talking with him, resting your arms on the edge of the pool.

“You friends with them, then?”

“Jed is in a few of my classes, so I'm friends with him. Not Stu, though. He's kind of an asshole. Likes to play a lot of stupid pranks.”

You rested your chin in your hand as you thought back.

“He's destroyed two of my phones so far, both times by dumping water on me,” you said, “although I guess he did repay me for both, but it's still such a hassle to go through.”

“You're nicer than I am. If some guy like that fucked up my phone I'd kill him.”

You laughed at him, not taking his words seriously.

“You seem nice enough. You helped him out, right?”

“Only because it was the fastest way to get outta there. Stupid bastard started an argument with the clerk.”

“Yeah. That sounds like something he'd do,” you said, tiredness lacing your voice.

A cheer then sounded from inside the house, and though the doors and windows were closed, it was loud enough that the both of you could hear it from outside.

“Things must be ramping up in there,” you commented.

“Guess so,” Phinks said, taking a swig of his drink after.

“Isn't it kinda weird that you're keeping to yourself with an event like this? Don't see the point in going out if you're going to avoid people,” he added.

“But isn't that what you're doing by coming out here?” you asked.

“Nah, I was getting ready to leave.”

“What stopped you?”

“I haven't done much out here beside sitting here talking to you. What do you think?”

You seemed a bit taken aback and a little embarrassed as you realized the reason, but gave him a small smile.

“Oh wow. Are you saying I managed to be charming enough to keep a guy from leaving?” you asked him.

“No. You're just not as annoying as the others I've met tonight.”

Your expression was rather blank as you took in that information.

“..... I'll take that as a compliment, then,” you said, “so what do you do?”

“What do I do?”

“For a job, or just anything in general.”

“I do a couple odd jobs here and there, I guess,” he answered, “every once in a while a bigger opportunity comes up, and I just do whatever I need to.”

It was an oversimplification of his criminal activities, and he hoped that he'd been vague enough without sounding suspicious.

It appeared that he had as you didn't seem to think it was strange.

“You mentioned earlier that you were just passing through. Are you on your way to a job or something?”

“Nah. I'm currently off-duty. And I had a lot of time to kill, so I decided to take a road trip.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” you said, “I work on campus, so I don't really get to do vacations for now. Can't remember the last time I went on one.”

“Job at least worth it?”

“Kind of? Although the other week I needed to go through something stupid.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I got screamed at by a lady.”

Your tone made it seem like that was something happened on a regular basis.

“For what?” he asked.

“Something with her daughter's textbooks. She ordered one that she didn't need on accident but didn't want to admit that she made a mistake, so she just let her mother yell at me for forty minutes and claim that we were the ones who fucked up.”

You sighed a little after the explanation. Evidently that situation still made you frustrated.

“.... Did she apologize after?” Phinks asked.

With a slightly wistful smile, you shook your head as you said “people like that don't apologize.”

“Sounds rough.”

It went without saying that Phinks wouldn't have tolerated anything like that. If it had been him he'd have killed them both and tossed their bodies in the trash. But he kept that rather violent thought to himself.

“Sorry you needed to deal with that,” he added.

“It's okay. It's little things that keep you going,” you said, “I've been looking forward to swimming for a while, so I'm pretty happy right now. Although I guess I'm kinda doing a job right now.”

“How so?”

“Jed's at his job right now, and since he doesn't trust Stu, he asked me to make sure nothing happens to the pool. The last time Stu had a party there was a bunch of trash in it the next morning, and it was a pain to clean up. So in exchange for using the pool, I have full permission to snitch on anyone who tosses anything.”

“Yeah? What's snitching gonna do?”

“Jed's a scary guy. Nobody wants to make him mad.”

If Phinks had felt like being more of an asshole, and if you'd been unpleasant during your conversation with him, he probably would've taken his half-finished beer can and thrown it into the pool just to upset you and also to see if your friend was as scary as you were making him out to be.

But so far he'd been enjoying himself, so as fun as that thought might have been, he decided against it.

You pulled one of your arms off of the rim and back into the water. Evidently you were getting cold, but you held on to the edge to continue speaking to him.

“So how long have you been on your trip?” you asked.

“A few weeks.”

“A few weeks? You must have been all over the place, then. Did you go anywhere in particular?”

“Not really,” Phinks answered, “didn't have any real plan when I set out. Just drove to wherever I thought would be interesting.”

“That's kinda cool,” you said, “must be nice to be able to go wherever you want without any real plan.”

“You can't?”

“Nope. Classes and work means I can't just run off whenever I feel like it.”

“Too busy getting screamed at?” he asked jokingly.

“Yeah, something like that,” you answered, laughing a little after.

You pulled your other arm back underwater and just kept a hand on the side of the wall.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little.”

“Probably why most people aren't swimming this late.”

“I don't care; it's worth it,” you said, “honestly, the thought of being able to swim was what kept me going this week.”

That.... Was a little bit sad, Phinks thought to himself. That all you had to look forward to at the end of the week was a few hours to swim by yourself in the cold. There were much sadder circumstances in the world – he was certain that anyone from Meteor City would be more than happy to switch places with you – but your life must have felt empty. Although Phinks was technically in the same boat at the moment, at least being with the troupe gave him purpose. What did you have besides a shitty job and presumably a fair amount of college debt? Just the 'little things' to keep you going?

Maybe he was presuming too much; he'd only just met you after all. But it bothered him regardless.

“What are your plans for after college?” he asked.

You seemed a bit startled, and you looked away from him for the first time.

“Not really sure, actually. I'm still undecided on my major,” you admitted, “I need to figure out soon, though. I'm going to run out of the basic coursework that I need to get through, and my family is getting mad that I haven't made a decision yet.”

So you didn't have any direction and were being pressured by others. Still not the saddest circumstance ever, but if it had been him, Phinks was certain he'd have been miserable.

You clearly didn't want to keep going on about that particular subject, as you began to ask him questions about his trip, wanting to know where exactly he had been so far and how much longer he planned to drive for. The change in topics was obvious, but he decided to go along with it.

As the night grew darker while the two of you talked, he decided that he liked you. You could hold a decent conversation, even if the things you two talked about weren't all that meaningful.

You were pretty cute, too.

The party behind him still seemed to be going strong, but it was largely going ignored by you both, in part by the fact that you were still the only ones outside.

Your face lit up as a thought came to mind.

“You should come in!” you told him.

“No thanks.”

“Come on! It's really nice!”

You grabbed at his free hand, tugging on his arm lightly as you tried to encourage him to get into the pool.

“If you get my suit wet I'll drown you,” Phinks said told you.

You giggled, once more not taking him seriously. Though he was only half-serious about it at this point.

“Then take it off and come in,” you insisted.

“I don't have a swimsuit.”

“That doesn't stop most people.

“Good to know,” he said flatly.

Though you'd stopped tugging on his arm, both of your hands remained on his wrist as you looked up at him.

“Can you not swim?” you asked.

“I can swim fine,” he said, “I just don't feel like it right now.”

You seemed a bit disappointed, but you had yet to let go of his wrist.

“Should you really be that surprised with the temperature being what it is?” he asked you.

“It isn't that bad. And the pool is heated,” you insisted, “didn't think a bit of chill would scare off the most interesting person at this party, though.”

The corner of his lips curled a bit at that. He wasn't one for meaningless flattery, but he didn't mind hearing you say things like that.

“Is that why you're not letting go of me?”

“You don't seem to be doing much to shake me off.”

“I could if I wanted to.”

“So you don't want to?”

You were teasing him. And while he could tease you back, he went for a different approach.

He yanked his wrist out of your grip and grabbed your own wrist just as fast, and lifted you up until you were eye level with him. To say you were flustered by the action would've been an understatement, and your free hand grasped at the arm that held you up to lessen the weight on the arm that he had trapped.

With you partially out of the water, Phinks allowed his eyes to travel over your form, following the trails of water that dripped down your skin and imagining exactly what you looked like under that swimsuit. His grin got wider when he saw your body reacting to the cooler temperature and the way your nipples showed through the material. It hadn't been on his mind when he first approached you, but after spending time with you he found himself liking the idea of fooling around with you. Probably not in the house, and he doubted you would want to do anything in the pool due to that friend of yours you had mentioned. Maybe there was some dark corner around here where he could take you to do what he wanted.

You were squirming a little, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“It's cold,” you whined.

“Yep,” was his reply.

“Come on, let go. I'm only in a swimsuit.”

“You weren't letting me go,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I didn't pull you into the water.”

“Because you're too weak to do that.”

“That's not fair!”

“Don't think this is a situation where fairness matters, sweetheart.”

With that he let you go, and you dropped back down into the pool. You pushed away from the wall after, giving him a slightly sour look.

“Problem?” he asked.

“It's cold,” you repeated.

He just smirked.

“You're gonna need to deal with it at some point,” he told you.

“Yeah, but I wasn't ready for it then!”

You had to have noticed the way he looked at you, right? There was no way you were so oblivious to have not seen how he had blatantly looked you over. Yet you weren't mentioning it.

By now you were more at the center of the pool, pointedly out of his range.

“You done talking?” Phinks asked.

“No, but I don't want you pulling me out again.”

Then you looked away like you were embarrassed.

It clicked for him. You must have liked it, but you were too shy to say anything about it.

Your reluctance was cute, though Phinks knew he'd get tired of that game pretty fast.

“Come back over,” he told you.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

You shook your head.

“You're going to do that again, right?” you asked.

“Maybe.”

“Then no. I don't wanna get out yet.”

“How long are you gonna stay in there?”

“Until I feel like getting out.”

“And if I want you out of there now?”

“Then you'd have to come in and get me.”

…. Oh

That's what it was.

A ploy by you to get him into the pool.

That's what you had to mean by those words, right?

“.... What the hell,” he said to himself as he stood.

It got your attention when he began to remove his clothing, throwing them over to a few neatly folded articles of clothing that sat next to a bag on the patio, which he assumed belonged to you. You were watching him closely, and he could sense a growing interest in you when he removed his shirt. Your eyes lingered a little when you caught sight of his spider tattoo, but there was no hint that you recognized what it meant, which was preferable.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked.

“You were looking at me earlier,” you answered defensively, “you're not allowed to get mad when I do the same.”

“Didn't say I was mad.”

You acknowledging the way he had looked at you then just reaffirmed in his head that you hadn't minded, and after stripping down to his boxers, Phinks jumped in. The water felt just as nice as you had said, but he didn't take much time to focus on it as he was quick to approach you. Within moments, he had wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close, lifting you a little so you were at eye level with him. You seemed flustered again, but you didn't make any move to get away, and were resting your hands on his chest.

“I don't think you told me your name,” you whispered to him.

“Phinks.”

“Phinks,” you repeated, smiling afterwards, “I like it. It's cool.”

“Thanks,” he replied, “and how 'bout you?”

You gave him your name, which he also repeated to himself.

“Not as cool as 'Phinks', I guess,” you said.

“It suits you,” he said.

You smiled at him, then shifted slightly in his grip.

“Are you just gonna keep holding me?”

“You said I needed to come in and get you.”

“And what did you want to 'get' me for?”

Despite the question, you clearly had an idea of what Phinks was after as you began to move in closer to him. Phinks did the same, and slowly, the gap between the two of you was closed as your lips met together in a kiss.

With the heavy scent of pool chemicals that surrounded you two, it was hard to smell much else, but your lips were soft against his. The kiss was a bit tame for his liking, but he let you do what you wanted for now as you readjusted your arms so they were wrapped around his neck.

One of his hands slid down your back to reach down and squeeze your ass, and you gasped into the kiss. He slipped his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment before you pulled away, your hand over your mouth as you looked away in embarrassment.

“I'm not sure we should do much more here,” you said, glancing up at the house behind him, “there are people watching. I'm not into that.”

“Where do you wanna go?” he asked. It didn't surprise him much that you two might have attracted an audience, and when he heard the door to the patio open from behind him, he chose to ignore it.

“I don't think we'll get much privacy here, so how about my place?” you asked.

“Do you usually bring home strangers?”

“Only the really cool ones.”

He grinned.

You were leaning in to kiss him again when you suddenly froze and turned your attention to something behind Phinks.

“Don't do that!” you yelled.

Phinks turned his head just in time to see his and your clothes land in the water, with the guy who'd invited him – Stu, he remembered – pointing and laughing after having thrown them. The annoying woman from earlier, the one who had whined at him for his can of beer, was also there, standing behind Stu and running off with him towards the gate in the fence.

Phinks saw red.

He let you go and swiftly exited the pool, following after the two even as the chill of the night air nipped at his skin. He barely felt it, and he didn't give a shit that he was running around barefoot either. All of his focus was on catching up to those two assholes who'd dumped his clothes in the pool.

He was angry enough that he didn't notice the sound of feet following after him.

The two perpetrators were in an alleyway between two rows of houses, drunkenly laughing their asses off. Their demeanor didn't change when Phinks caught up to them. The woman actually began to laugh harder, probably because Phinks was still wearing only his boxers.

Stu was trying to contain himself a bit, and put his hands up as an offering of peace.

“Hey man, it wasn't anything personal. Just a prank,” he said, “you can use the dryer, and I'll lend you some clothes-”

His sentence was cut off when Phinks grabbed both sides of his head and twisted it completely around, the cracking of his broken neck ringing out in the empty alley.

The sight of Stu falling to the ground with his head facing the wrong way had the woman instantly sober up, and she looked to Phinks as she opened her mouth to scream.

Barely a whisper of sound was able to escape as he did the same thing to her, and now Phinks was standing half-naked in an alley with two dead bodies.

“Obnoxious fucking people,” he muttered to himself.

Then there was noise that came from behind him.

Phinks turned and saw the other guy who'd been at the gas station on the ground, his arms barely supporting himself as his eyes were wide at the sight of his friends dead before him.

His eyes widened even further when he spotted the spider on Phinks' ribs, clearly recognizing what it meant as he whispered “oh my god.”

Make that three bodies, Phinks thought to himself as he rushed forward to snap his neck as well.

Three bodies that he needed to get rid of. If anyone else from the party came out here and found them, the police would be called immediately. He had no intentions of staying here any longer, but it'd be best to put a bit of distance between himself and the crime scene before the police were inevitably called.

He was dragging the other guy by his ankles and in the process of collecting the woman's body when someone walked out into the alley through one of the other entrances. An older woman, who was definitely not from the party and had come from another house, carrying a bag of trash walked out in front of Phinks, and like the guy right before, her eyes grew wide as she saw the sight of the dead before her.

She made a move to run back to her house, but Phinks picked up a pebble that he infused with nen and launched it at her head. It traveled through her skull and the fencing beside her, and blood sprayed out from the exit wound and splattered onto the fence as well as she fell to the ground.

This was turning into a goddamn mess, and after Phinks had thrown now four bodies over into a different backyard, he heard a voice calling out “mom?” from the direction that the woman with the trash bag had come from.

Fuck this. He needed to go.

When he returned to the backyard to retrieve his clothes, he found you on the patio. You were holding his jacket over the concrete, desperately trying to wring out the water that had soaked it completely. You were visibly shivering as you did so, with goosebumps running up your arms and your teeth chattering. He noticed his pants hanging off the fence that surrounded the patio, and while they weren't dry by any means, you had clearly done your best to get the water out of them. Meanwhile your own clothes laid in a soggy heap by your equally soaked bag.

You noticed him when he walked closer.

“I'm sorry,” you told him. You looked guilty for some reason.

“You didn't do it,” Phinks said, considerably calmer now.

“No. But I made a big deal about you getting in with me, and with Stu around I should've been paying attention. I'm really, really sorry.”

He was about to tell you to stop apologizing when he heard a shout coming from the direction of the alleyway.

Fuck. He forgot that he needed to leave.

Luckily you were the only one who noticed, as the rest of the party goers still had the doors and windows securely shut. He pulled on his pants and his sopping wet tank top, and the sensation of wearing those wet clothes was just as unpleasant as he had anticipated. At least his shoes were still dry.

You were still holding his jacket, looking confused as you looked off in the direction where you'd heard that voice. Phinks was about to just take it from you and leave, but when he looked you over again, he thought over the things you two had talked about, the things you had said and how you'd acted around him, and he came to a split second decision.

Grabbing your clothes and bag, he shoved them into your hands before he grabbed one of your arms and pulled you after him. You seemed startled, but you didn't question him as you were too surprised to think of anything to say. He led you out through the backyard and down to where he had parked his car, opening the passenger side door and pushing you inside. He then walked around to the driver's side, and within moments you both were speeding out of the neighborhood.

By the time he came to the highway there was a strong smell of pool chemicals that filled the car, and both of the front seats were slowly soaking up the excess water that dripped off of the two of you.

You seemed to be in a mild state of shock, as you had yet to say anything. You just sat in your still wet swimsuit looking rather confused while you still held onto the soaked clothing Phinks had forced onto you.

After a while you shuddered and finally spoke up.

“Do you think you could turn up the heat?” you asked him.

“Oh. Sure. Sorry.”

Phinks turned the heat up all the way, and after a few moments you seemed to relax a bit, though now you were glancing over at him while smiling nervously.

“Uh, so, there's a lot that I should probably be questioning,” you began, “but I'll start with if you knew why there was yelling?”

Should he lie? No, that might be weird if he pretended not to know.

“I punched that guy in the face. I think I broke his nose,” he told you, “that was likely his friend after he saw him.”

“Ah. Okay,” you said, “that's..... Not very good, but I think I get why you did that. You're gonna get charged with assault, though.”

Fat chance.

“I'll deal with that when I come to that,” he answered, “sorry if I put you in a tough position.”

“It's okay. Well, not really. But Stu's pranks have always been pretty bad and what he did was shitty, so I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Think you can forgive me?”

“... Yeah, I think so. Just promise you won't do anything like that again.”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” you said as you nodded, “so second question: where are we going?”

“.... Not sure. Didn't have much of a plan besides getting out of there and going back to what I was doing,” Phinks admitted.

“So you're just back to driving around going wherever?”

“Seems like it.”

“Why did you bring me along?” you asked.

“.... Didn't want that to be the last time I saw you,” he said.

“Oh.....”

His answer ended up making you flustered again, and while you did seem to be holding some reservations about him with his admission of violence and the fact that he really had just kidnapped you, he could see you rationalizing everything in your mind and convincing yourself that this wasn't all that bad.

It was preferable if you did that. It made taking you with him a lot easier.

“Luckily for me I don't work tomorrow,” you said, “and since the day after that is Sunday and the campus store isn't open then, I also have that day off. So I think it's okay if I drive around with you for a bit. Just get me back by Sunday night, alright?”

“Don't worry. I'll get you back safe and sound,” he told you, and you visibly relaxed at his words.

You were a little naive, a little too trusting. But that was fine. Phinks liked that about you.

“Okay so third question,” you announced as you looked down at the wet clothes in your lap, “what should we do about this?”

“Right. Let me pull over.”

He stopped the car beneath a streetlight, and you sat sideways on the passengers seat while you held the clothes out of the car and wrung the water out of them as best you could. Phinks took the opportunity to change after you handed him his jacket, and he threw the mostly damp clothes in the backseat.

Glancing over at you, he did appreciate how much your swimsuit showed off while you tried to dry out your own clothes. But while he liked the idea of you staying as you were for the rest of the trip, you probably wouldn't be as big of a fan of that. Going over to his trunk once more, he dug around through his bag before he found what he was looking for.

“I don't have anything that will fit you well,” Phinks said as he made his way over to you, “but this should cover you up.”

What he handed you was the long white robe he wore on occasion, usually for combat or missions.

You seemed a bit surprised when you saw it, but you accepted it gratefully. Your gaze went to the jeweled eye that hung near the neck of the garment, and he heard you mumble about it being pretty.

He wondered briefly what you might think of the snake headpiece he usually wore with it, but the time for that would come later as you were currently slipping his robe over your head.

“Thank you,” you told him again as you threw your clothing in the back as well.

Then your attention went to your bag, and you frowned.

“What's wrong?”

In response to his question, you tilted your bag to the side and water began to pour out of it.

“Ah.”

“How much do you wanna bet that my phone is dead?” you asked as you reached inside.

As was expected, your phone screen stayed black when you hit the power button, and you sighed.

“And that's phone number three that Stu has destroyed.”

“Don't worry. It won't happen again,” he told you.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You tossed the now useless phone into your bag and looked back up to him as if to say “so what now?”

Phinks had an idea for that.

“Wanna go to a motel?”

“A motel? Wow, you sure know how to treat someone,” you said sarcastically.

“You really think I can get you into a nice hotel with you looking like that? You don't even have shoes,” he said.

“I didn't get a chance to grab them,” you responded, though you seemed to concede a bit.

“Could we stop somewhere tomorrow so I can get shoes or something?”

“I'll buy you a whole new wardrobe if that's what you want.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head and saying that you didn't need that.

Before too long, Phinks was back in the drivers seat while you watched the streetlights as the car passed them by, your fingers idly playing with the jewel on his robes as you did so. He had turned down the heat and turned on the radio, and though it still felt strange to be sitting in the wet seats, it wasn't bothering either of you as much anymore. The smell from the pool was mostly gone after driving a bit with the windows opened just a crack.

Except for the occasional car that drove in the opposite direction, you were the only ones on the highway.

“How far are you gonna drive?” you eventually asked.

He wanted to get out of the state at least. Phinks didn't want to deal with a confrontation with the law while also taking you along with him. He wanted to get as far as he could while you were still cooperative, and whenever you realized that there was no chance he'd be taking you back, he'd go to more extreme measures of keeping you with him. Your phone being dead was a good thing for him; you wouldn't be able to try and get help as easily.

“I think we've passed by three or four motels already,” you added, “was there something wrong with them?”

“No. Sorry. I got a bit distracted,” Phinks replied, “I've come to really like the highway at night. There's something soothing about it, I guess. Wanted to stay like this for a bit longer.”

You nodded in response and looked back out the window, your fingers still playing with the jeweled eye.

“Can I borrow your phone at some point tomorrow? I need to call someone just so everyone back home knows I'm okay. Don't want them to worry,” you said to him.

“Sure,” he said.

Arguing with you over that would seem strange. He'd just need to avoid that subject tomorrow.

He noticed when you yawned.

“Getting tired?” he asked.

“A little,” you said, laughing a little as you added, “this wasn't how I was expecting my night to go.”

“Same here.”

“I hope you decide to stop soon. I might not be up for it tonight if you're planning on continuing where we left off at the pool when we reach that motel.”

“That's fine. We'll have all day tomorrow, right?”

His words made you embarrassed again, and you shyly answered with a yes as you smiled to yourself.

So that was the plan, then. Drive as far as he could tonight, fuck your brains out tomorrow, then get away further before you figured things out. You would likely object, not liking the idea of being taken away from everything you'd ever known. But he was certain that after spending enough time with him, you'd prefer it. Your current life wasn't any good, but he was prepared for you to not understand that at first. And if he needed to tie you up and shove you into the trunk to keep you compliant, he could do that. Seemed like a pretty fool-proof plan.

You were yawning again.

“Get some sleep if you need to,” he said, “I'll wake you up when I find a place I like.”

You nodded. Soon after he saw you settling back into the seat and closing your eyes as you attempted to get some rest.

He liked the sight of you next to him, sitting in his clothes while you nodded off in his car. And when he turned his attention back to the empty highway, he was once again hit with the feeling like he was the only one in the world. A feeling that only came with seeing an area that was typically full of people seem completely abandoned.

But this time, though, he wasn't alone.

[giftofwonder]

Cirque de Yuuie - MHA Various x f!Reader

A/N: Hey guys! So this is going to be a multi-part series of one shots. Each part will be a different character. There might be smut, we’ll see what happens. This is the introduction to the plot and characters. Some characters might have multiple parts as well. Let me know if you want anyone specific and also if you’d like to be added to their tag list! Also, let me know what you think! Feedback is always appreciated.

Intro

Your eyes cracked open, taking in the deep midnight hues that were cast over your room. Pale moonlight bathed everything in a faint glow.

You shifted, rolling to look at the clock on your bedside table. You groaned, pushing yourself up to sit on the edge of your bed and turned toward your open window. You could hear the boisterous chatter from the streets below. A cool breeze swept in and danced along your heated skin, and you welcomed it with closed eyes and a soft sigh.

Each night you found yourself waking up restless and antsy, unsettled. You’d sit in the confines of your room, and then dress and make your way to the tavern across the road. Tonight was no different.

Your tired limbs trudged across the cobblestone, pushing through drunken bodies that reeked of liquor and sweat.

You grunted as you pushed open the heavy oak door, finding it just as congested as outside. Bodies littered the room heavily, the music and laughter so loud it left your ears ringing. You weaved through the empty spaces and took a seat on a stool by the bar.

“The usual?” You heard a voice called out.

You glanced up, locking eyes with the bar tender as you gave a faint smile and nod.

A glass was slid in your direction a few seconds later, and you wondered if he’d already had it ready for you. You figured that must be the case, it was routine at this point.

“No luck sleeping again, huh?” He said, leaning across the counter as you nursed your drink.

“Afraid not, seems like this is becoming my normal.” You gave a dry laugh, trying to offer up something lighthearted.

“Seems like it. Something troubling you?” His head cocked to the side.

“Just the usual, nothing too bad.” You said, shifting your glass around in your hand.

“Come on now, you waltz in here every night and drink, people with problems that aren’t too bad don’t find themselves perched on one of my stools this often.” He whispered, his gaze intense as he inched across the counter toward you. His hushed voice was lost in the roars of the crowd around you, but you could hear him clear as day.

He wasn’t wrong. You had to give him that. The cluster of people surrounding you dispersed as groups made their way to exit back to the street.

Mummers still resounded around the room, but in the now much quieter atmosphere, you felt yourself relaxing. You leaned forward, propping your elbows against the chipped counter and braced your cheek in your palm.

“I just feel...I don’t know...an overwhelming amount of disinterest in my life. I wake up, I work hard and long days, I come home, eat and bathe and sleep. It’s a never-ending cycle that I’m doomed to repeat each and every day. It all just feels so lackluster.” You said, your voice soft as your eyes gazed at nothing.

“Well, that is quite the conundrum. Might I ask, why don’t you just do something else?” He quipped back with a grin.

“If only it were that easy.” You sighed, eyes slowly drifting back to him.

“Isn’t it, though?” He asked, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Is it?” You asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Hear me out, I’m no stranger to a hard days work by any means, but I like what I do.” He shrugged.

“Making drinks?” You pressed.

“No, I watch people. Get to know them, help them sometimes. You work in a pub and you meet a lot of people, hear a lot of stories. People get a bit of alcohol in them and suddenly their lips become uncontrollably loose.” He chuckled.

“So you’re nosy, then?” You spat back, a smile turning the corners of your lips.

“I prefer curious, it sounds much more pleasant.” He offered.

He turned and grabbed an envelope from behind him and slid it across the counter to you. It was unmarked, other than the intricate wax seal holding it closed.

“What’s this?” You asked, taking it and inspecting the “CdY” ingrained in the seal.

“A chance to escape.” He shrugged, and then leaned back abruptly, hands grasping glassware and a towel to polish the crystals surface.

“What do I owe you?” You asked, standing and grabbing your coin purse.

“Nothing. This ones on me.” He waved his hand.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it. By the way, what is your name?” You asked, tucking the envelope into your pocket.

“Shinso, now get out of here and go off to do whatever it is you do when you stumble out of here each night.” He called, waving his rag at you. You smiled at the mirth lighting his eyes, offering a wave as you turned and made your exit.

______________________________________

You plopped onto your small wicker chair, it’s grooves lining up with your back perfectly, molded to your body after the countless hours you had spent hunched over in this seat.

Calloused fingertips reached to caress a fine silk that you’d never be able to afford. You pulled it to you, laying it across the table ahead and dug the patterns for a dress from the chest beside you at your feet.

You were a seamstress, and a fairly popular one. Women and men from both high and low society sought you out to tailor and craft their garments.

You had stitched an amazing collection of clothing, from simple gowns to the most intricate of pieces. Your customers had often boasted about your work, that you were able to create anything.

Until recently, you had been doing fairly well for yourself. You had purchased a home of your own, a massive feat for an unwed woman, especially one in her early twenties.

In the last six months, that had changed though. There had been civil unrest, looting and fighting at the capital. The local government had pushed back, increasing taxes heavily. With that blow came another, a new tailoring business on the other side of town. It offered cheap labor, using children from the orphanage as virtually free hands. The turn around was quick, much faster than the length of time it took you to produce a garment. But the quality was terrible. They used cheap labor and cheaper materials.

The first time you had seen their work, you had laughed till tears brimmed your eyes. However, the quick production and cheap cost had ended up hitting you hard. While the wealthy had no issue having you fashion something for them, most everyone else had flocked to them. It wasn’t terribly hard to do a simple stitch. To take in a gown or a suit. Suddenly, you found yourself praying for work as the jobs got fewer and fewer.

Meanwhile the heightened taxes left your coin purse extremely light. You hadn’t struggled like this in a very long time.

You finished the silken garment, folding it delicately over your arm as you took it over to the rack to hang.

Once hung, you patted off your apron and felt the crinkling of the forgotten envelope tucked in your pocket. You pulled it out, fingers dipping into the paper to tear it open. The red of the invitation was so bright, a high quality velvet lined in gold trim. You then wondered the status of your friendly barkeep, but chalked it up to his large amount of connections. Surely, a drunken man could be persuaded into giving an invitation in exchange for a free round.

Your eyes scanned along the paper, reading the fancy script that outlined the details of the event. You scoffed as you made your way back to your chair, shaking your head as the invitation was tossed onto your table.

A few moments passed before you picked it back up and read over the card again.

______________________________________

Your heels clicked against the pavement as you approached the large gate before you. You were in a state of awe at the lights and music making the night feel alive.

You stopped at the ticket booth, met with a disgruntled employee who looked half asleep. His thick yellow quilt was pulled taunt around his body and his hollow eyes stared at you with something akin to annoyance.

“Welcome to “Cirque de Yuuie”, admission is ¥220.” His bored voice stated monotonously.

“Oh...I actually have an invitation.” You said, giving a weak smile.

He held your gaze for a moment before he quirked a brow, his eyes scanning over you before he gave a sigh and a shrug.

“Alright, give it here.” He held out his pale hand, and you gently placed the invite in his palm.

He quickly pressed a stamp to your hand and shooed you away, so you turned and entered in through the gate.

______________________________________

You had wandered around the grounds for a while, but saw no familiar faces. It was odd, not even children were present. The cost had been rather high to enter, perhaps it was an adults only event.

After you had completed your lap, you were not too far from the entrance to the large tent in the center of the area. Red and white fabrics were draped beautifully, tied off with an intricately woven gold banding.

As you went to step forward, a large wooden pole cut in front of you, you gasped, your head shooting up to find a cheerful looking clown above.

“Whoops! S’cues me miss! Almost stepped on ya there!” He laughed, his painted lips opening to reveal his bright smile.

“Oh, no I’m sorry! I was enthralled by everything and wasn’t paying attention.” You waved him off.

“Ah don’t worry about it, it’s a beautiful night, and the tent looks great! I’ve been distracted by it myself! The names Mirio, by the way.”

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

He nodded and stepped to make his way off back into the crowd.

“HEY WAIT!” You heard a loud voice call out, and not a moment later, two more clowns turned the corner. One with green hair raced along side a blonde with large sunglasses and a lightening-shaped black streak in his hair. They were tailed by a very awkward and scared looking mime who ran behind them silently looking like he was going to be sick.

“Come on, Amajiki! Hurry up!” The blonde clown yelled behind him, causing the mime to flinch and pick up the pace. You laughed at their antics, they were definitely a good source of entertainment.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! THIS IS YOUR ANNOUNCER: PRESENT MIC, PLEASE GATHER TO THE MAIN TENT AS THE FESTIVITIES ARE ABOUT TO BEGIN.....YEAAAHHH!!!!” A loud voice blared through the speakers overhead.

You pushed through the gathering crowd, entering through the fabric doorway. The ceilings were vaulted, and you were amazed by how large it seemed inside.

Chatter broke out amongst those around you as you passed a sign that read “Yuuie’s Spectacular Freak Show!”

You followed the corridor, peering in the labeled rooms as you passed by.

“Strongest Men Alive! All Might and Red Riot!” Inside the room were two muscular men. The blonde man was tall, looming over the crowd as he smiled and flex. The redhead was laying on a bed of nails, and a crazed looking woman with pink hair walked across him while he looked on unfazed.

“One Body- Two Men! Twice!” A man sat, arguing with himself, the crowd would call out questions and he’d answer two opposing ways, often breaking out into an argument. The crowd giggled and taunted as he yelled seemingly to himself.

“The Vampire: Toga!” Your stomach twisted as you watch the girl give a cat-like grin and chug a vial of blood. Shackles held her to her spot but she called out to the audience, telling them to come closer and let her have a drink.

“Invisible Girl: Toru!” You blinked at the empty room, rolling your eyes as you pushed past to the next stall.

“Frog Woman: Tsuyu!” A girl in a green dress crouched in a pool, her long tongue falling from her mouth as her large hand gave a wave. You couldn’t help but notice her webbed fingers and the faint croaks.

“Worlds Largest Woman: Mt Lady!” An insanely large woman sat on her knees, smiling and chatting with the audience. She was beautiful, but had to be at least 9’ tall.

“World’s Largest Man: Fatgum!” A very large man sat in the center of the room smiling and waving as he let children drift into his stall and eat from the various sweets lining the table beside him. Though the adults around you spoke insults quietly, you couldn’t help but think the man looked very kind. You smiled softly at the sight of a child hugging him in thanks before returning to their mothers side.

“Bird-Man: Hawks!” A young man laughed loudly, his beautiful red wings flapping as he gave a slight show to those who watched. Many looked on in awe and wonder, and women swooned at his charm. His feathers seemed to almost sparkle and while you noticed something mischievous in his gaze, you were mesmerized nonetheless.

“Dabi the Dragon and the Indestructible Bakugou!” This room was larger, and smoke poured out. You were curious about this one, as there was no crowd gathered out front. You only saw one person, a rather attractive but angry looking man, growling as he noticed you. He rolled his eyes as he lit off explosives in his hands.

Your hands shot up to cover your eyes, before peering out to see the man looked fine, bored even.

“That was amazing!” You exclaimed.

“Course it was!” He sneered.

Suddenly, the curtain behind him rustled and another man emerged from the darkness. He was shirtless, his body scared in burns that wrapped around his torso, arms and face. His black hair spiked wildly, just like the blonde beside him. He smirked at you, sauntering toward you before lifting your chin with his index finger.

“Want me to put on a show for you, doll face?” He whispered. You nodded mutely, feeling much like the mime you had saw earlier that night. He chucked and stepped back. His hand grasped a bottle and he turned his back toward you, taking a large swig from the drink.

He abruptly turned back, and blue flames shot from his mouth and filled the room. You could immediately feel the immense heat and no longer wondered how his scars came to be.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, giving a small cough before grinning at you.

“Well, what’d ya think, princess?”

“It was amazing! Does it hurt?” You asked.

“Hmm? Nah, not really. Just burns a little.” He snickered at his joke while Bakugou rolled his eyes in the background.

“I also do a bit of sword swallowing.” He added, stepping in close to you.

“Oh, yeah? That’s a neat talent to have.” You spat back awkwardly.

“I could teach you, after the show that is. I’ve got a good one for you to practice on.” His deep voice said in a hushed tone, hot breath hitting you as his hand gripped the crotch of his pants.

You stumbled back quickly, mumbling about needing to find a seat, and then ran off to the main room of the tent.

Your heart was pounding as you took an empty seat in the front row that had your invitation number on it.

The lights around you dimmed and the seats behind began filling quickly. People chatted amongst themselves until the music changed and the curtains at the far side of the tent were drawn.

A pale looking man with light blue hair and red eyes slowly walked out, taking center stage.

“Welcome. I’m so glad all of you came to join us for the show.” His hoarse voice spoke out loudly. His eyes dragged along the audience, taking in those around him.

“My name is Shigaraki and I’ll be your host tonight. You’ll see things that you never imagined, acts of wonder put on display before you. Prepare to be in awe and amazed.” He cheered, giving and eerie grin.

______________________________________

Halfway through the show, they called for an intermission. The lights brightened as people stood and flocked outside to grab drinks and food.

You stayed put, reflecting on the show so far. There had been an amazing act with tightrope walking, acrobats and aerial silks. They had been called “Children of the Sky” by those sat around you. Aoyama, Mina, Uraraka and Nejire were their names.

Then there had been the father and son act of fire performance. Enji and Shouto Todoroki. They danced with fire and spun batons and hoops that were blazing. Their act would have been more enjoyable if the father had been quiet, but instead every few moments he’d call out to his son correcting his posture and moves. Mid performance, Dabi had joined them on stage. His blue flames shining brightly in contrast. He had quickly noticed you and his eyes lit up as your stomach filled with dread.

He marched over, pulling you from your seat as gasps and whispers of his damaged skin rang through the crowd. He didn’t seem to notice. Or didn’t care. He had spun you around, dancing as his azure fire lit his arms. You were worried you’d be burned, but the fire never touched your skin. He brushed his arms with his hands, extinguishing the flame, as the music had haunted. You watched the smoke rise from his skin as you frowned, but he simply took your hand and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of it before walking away.

You heard a voice rasp out “fucking show off” before seeing the angry blonde, Bakugou, take off after him.

Now you sat, watching a small man with balls on his head. He wore a jesters outfit and juggled before those left seated in the crowd. Slowly he made his way to you.

“Hey, how do you know Dabi?” He asked bluntly, wonder in his eyes.

“Oh, I don’t. Not really. I saw him in the freak show. That’s all.” You said, uncomfortable with the small mans leering.

“You actually watched him?” He asked dumbfounded. “No wonder he’s all over you.”

“What do you mean?” You asked perplexed.

“Uh hello, he’s gross looking. Definitely not as attractive as someone like me.” He beamed at you. You stayed quiet, unsure of how to respond and afraid to break the poor guys dilution.

“Hey I also do puppet stuff, you wanna see?” He asked, tone chipper.

“Oh, no that’s okay-“

“Okay cool, watch this!” He cut you off, pulling a small puppet from his suit. He dropped it and it limply hit the ground, the string much too long for him. The puppet dragged around weirdly as the jester spoke in a high pitch, giving the wooden body a voice.

You blinked, watching the train wreck as the doll slid through the dirt, getting jerked around by the man before you. He picked up the puppet and threw it at you, it landing in your lap. Then he pulled the string and yanked it back to the ground. You abruptly stood and walked away, hearing him call after you, but you only quickened your pace.

Once outside in the fresh air, a loud bellowing laugh burst from your lips. That was the weirdest thing you’ve ever had to deal with and you had been holding in laughing in the strange boys face.

“Seems like you’re enjoying the show.” A voice cut in.

Your head quickly spun, meeting the red eyes of the ring leader.

“Yeah! It’s nice, you guys are doing an amazing job!” You scratched your neck, feeling the hairs on your arms standing at the sudden tension as the mans smile fell.

“You weren’t invited here.” He stated.

“I...well I was given an invitation.” You replied.

“It wasn’t yours though. It wasn’t meant for you.” He said, eyes blank as his head cocked to the side.

“No, it wasn’t. I don’t know who it belonged to. A bartender gave it to me.” You explained.

“Hmm, is that so? Well, do enjoy the show then. But do me a favor, sit in a different seat when you go back in.” He sneered, and then he was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

You headed back inside, choosing a different seat in the front row that had been unclaimed earlier.

The music roared again as the clowns, Midoriya, Kaminari and Mirio, put on a show. Kaminari was being shocked while Midoriya rode around on a unicycle. Mirio stayed on his stilts and walked around the stage dancing and doing tricks. The trio was truly fun to watch, and then the mime, Amajiki, was shoved forward. A spotlight hit him as he stood frozen in fear.

“Come on buddy, you can do it!” Mirio whispered loudly in support.

Amajiki took in a big breath and lifted his arms, hands shaking as he formed an invisible wall in front of himself when a box hit him in the head and a drunken man “booed”. Amajiki immediately rushed to the shadows, pressing his face into the wall of the tent as an air of dread surrounded him.

“Uhhh...look over here!” Midoriya yelled out, pulling the attention of the crowd as he gave a large shock to Kaminari. Kaminari then “beeped” and “booped” and drooled as he wobbled around. The audience cheered and laughed.

Finally it was time for the final act of the night, the mysterious and powerful Mr. Compress.

A spotlight roamed the stage, and in a cloud of smoke he appeared. He wore a mask, top hat and yellow overcoat. His cane tapped against the floor with each step he took.

“Tonight, I will make you question everything you know about the world. Everything you believe to be real!” He called, and the crowd went wild, hooting and hollering.

He started with a few jokes, one about how he wasn’t the type to pull a rabbit from his hat, but then his hat shifted and he took it off. He pulled out the first rabbit, and then another, and then two more. You laughed at his seeming confusion. Finally, he plopped his hat back on his head and called out Bakugou to the stage. Bakugou marched to him, stomping his feet and crossing his arms as he came to a stop beside the magician.

Mr. Compress draped a large piece of fabric over the man, and then quickly pulled the cloth back to reveal a confused looking Shouto.

“I was just over there.” Shouto said, pointing to the other side of the tent.

“Yes! And now you’re over here!” Compress smiled, giving a grand wave of his arm.

“Aren’t I the one doing the magic then?” Shouto said blandly while Compress laughed.

“Alright then, do another trick for us.” Mr. Compress said, his tone amused. Shouto stood there silently, expression blank.

“I’m-“

“YOUR FIRE! USE YOUR FIRE SHOUTO!” His father yelled from off stage. Shouto glanced behind him, annoyance radiating from him.

“No. Nevermind. Just put me back where i was.” He said to Compress. Not a second later, the cloth was thrown over him and pulled off to reveal what looked like 100 butterflies.

The crowed oohed and awed in response, and you felt your eyes widen in amazement as well. It was so quick, you were trying to understand the trick, but could hardly wrap your head around it. This guy was good.

He went through a few more tricks, each a little better than the last. Finally he called for a volunteer from the audience.

Many hands shot into the air, while yours meekly raised. You weren’t one who gravitated to the spotlight, in fact, you had no desire to go onto the stage and have everyone’s eyes on you. But, you had promised yourself you’d let go for tonight and do as the bartender recommended. Escape.

Perhaps he could sense your distress, or maybe it was just because you were the closest to him, but he slowly walked toward you and extended his hand.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love it if you could assist me madam.”

You smiled, cursing inwardly at yourself, as you took his hand and let him pull you to your feet and lead you to the stage.

Red Riot ran over holding a heavy wooden chair, one you might find used as a throne.

Compress lifted the bottom of his mask and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, much like Dabi did, before directing you to take a seat. You did as you were asked, feeling the heat of the light on you, thankful that it’s blinding light prevented you from being able to see the crowd.

Mr. Compress started his speech about defying nature, and the use of powerful magic.

“Do not look away for a second, it is imperative you see your reality bent before you. With the help of my beautiful assistant, I will show you that the limitations we set for ourselves are often just an illusion. Anything you can think of is possible!”

He turned toward you, pulling the yellow coat from his body and leaving himself in his black vest and pants, the orange shirt beneath now visible. He pushed up his sleeves and held his hands outstretched toward you. You felt the chair jerk and sucked in a breath. It lurched again, and soon you were floating above the ground. You kicked your feet and smiled, trying your hardest not to shift in the chair.

Then the lights flickered, and a spotlight fell from the ceiling, crashing into the empty seat that had been assigned to your invitation.

In the moment of chaos, the chair dropped harshly, cracking against the ground as the impact tossed you to the side. You grunted, the wind knocked from your lungs and your eyes unfocused after smacking your head in the fall.

Screams were heard as the crowd panicked and scattered, the roars of animals following after them.

A harsh tug lifted you back onto your feet, and in the darkness you could see nothing, but allowed the person to drag you from the tent as your head spun.

Your mind was trying to process as you were pulled into a trailer, and as your body met the cot inside, you fell unconscious.

[chudleycanonficfest]

Air

Our first story on Day 1 comes to you by @zurisenchantedquill !

Title: Air Author/Artist: zurimadison Pairing: Romione, side Hinny Prompt: Rock Concert Rating: Teen, borderline Mature? Trigger Warning(s) (if any): bit of snogging :)

Full disclosure, I was inspired by the song "Stay Next to Me" by Quinn XCII and Chelsea Cutler

______

Ron

“You have ten minutes,” Ginny says, smacking her gum as she stares at me. “Harry will be here soon.”

I don’t move from my seat on the couch. “So let me get this straight, not only are you forcing me into going to this concert tonight, but you also invited your boyfriend to my flat?”

“You like Harry.” She checks her phone. “Nine minutes.”

I do like Harry, but I’m not going to admit that to her right now. I try a change of tactics. “I had plans tonight, Gin. You can’t just show up unannounced and expect me to drop everything to go out with you.”

“Laundry is not a plan, Ron,” she says, texting furiously as she plops on the other end of the couch. “Mum says I need to get you out of the house because you’ve been moping since your breakup, and I knew that if I gave you warning, you’d find an excuse to bail.”

I can’t help but wince, reminded of both the recent end to my relationship and the correct assumption that I’m hiding away because of it. “I just need some me-time right now.”

She looks at me, cheek lit by her phone screen, and smirks. “Eight minutes.”

Whoever said Weasleys are pushovers has never met my little sister.

Actually, probably no one has ever said that.

I sigh and stand, making my way to my bedroom to change.

“Comb your hair or something, while you’re at it,” she calls. “You look a mess.”

“Thanks Gin,” I yell back, but then I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Sheesh, she wasn’t kidding. 

Seven minutes later, dressed and groomed enough to be presentable, I set off down the road with my sister and her boyfriend. 

“Go on then, who are we seeing tonight?”

“The Black Keys,” Harry answers, grinning. “I’ve been dying to see them for ages.”

I’ve never heard of them before, so I ask, “what kind of music is that? Rock?”

“Technically, more Indie Rock,” Ginny answers, and I can’t stop the small snort that escapes me. She shoots a glare that very clearly warns me not to take the mickey, so I hold my arms up defensively and clear my throat.

“Oh, sounds...erm, fun.” It’s lame, but Harry nods and starts rambling about his favorite songs. For all my trouble, Ginny graces me with an approving quirk of her eyebrow. Thanks Sis. 

The venue is close to my flat, so it isn’t long before we’re through the doors, pushing our way into the crowd. 

It feels like even less time before Ginny is snogging Harry, their bodies swaying in time to the music as her drink slops unnoticed on their shoes. They break apart every now and then to sing a lyric or two, then they’re right back at it.

I try to ignore it as I down my beer, but the venue is so congested that I’m constantly jostled into them. Not that they even seem to notice, mind you, but as much as I don’t care what Ginny does on her own time, it’s another thing entirely to literally have it shoved into my face. 

My bottle is devastatingly empty, so I mutter an excuse and snake away through the crowd, not finding it at all dispersed as I move further from the stage. I spot a bar in the back corner and fight my way over to it, feeling like a hero returning home after battle when I’m able to place my order with the bartender. 

It happens as I’m waiting for my beer. I glance down the length of the bar, more out of idleness than anything else, and I see her. 

She’s got dark curly hair that’s highlighted with honey, a red strapless dress that could bring a man to his knees, and, unless I’m much mistaken, she’s holding a book in one of her hands as she leans across the bar to be heard above the music.

I am struck with the impulse to know the color of her eyes. 

She seems to be alone, and is the only person in the venue actually sitting on a stool. I’m not altogether surprised when, after receiving her drink, she opens her book. She’s so absorbed in her reading that she doesn't notice the people bustling around her. She doesn’t even look up when the bartender hands a drink to someone over her head. 

It takes me two more beers, alone in the corner, watching this woman who has such impressive focus, before I work up my nerve. There’s a small opening in the crowd, so I decide it's now or never and throw myself through it. I slip to her side and deliver the almighty line that I’d been working on for nearly twenty minutes.

“Whatcha reading?”

I honestly expect her to ignore me or maybe genuinely not hear me, but to my surprise, she looks right at me. 

Brown. Her eyes are chestnut brown, with a dark ring around the outside. They appraise me before the corners of her round lips turn upwards almost imperceptibly. “Treasure Island.” She has to shout to be heard above the music.

“No way,” I exclaim, bemused. “That’s one of the few books I’ve actually read! Isn’t it crazy that Ben had the treasure the whole time?”

“He what?” Her eyes go wide as she gazes at me, slack jawed. “Seriously?”

“Wait, you didn’t know?” I ask, clapping a hand over my mouth. “I’m so sorry, I thought-”

“Just kidding,” she interrupts me, then begins to giggle at what I can only assume is my idiotic expression. “I’ve read this a million times.”

Her laugh is infectious, and I silently swear to make her do as much of it as I can. I lean against my forearm on the bar and turn sideways so I can view her better. Something about the way she’s looking up at me makes me feel brave. “What’s your name?” 

“Hermione.”

“Ron.” I extend my hand. She slips her tiny palm into mine. I shake it, but then I don’t let go. 

A drunk patron knocks into me, pushing me closer to her. I can almost see down her dress, I’m standing so close. “It’s too crowded in here,” she shouts as she glances over her shoulder. “So many random bodies pressed together.”

“We should go somewhere.” I’m not sure what’s gotten into me, but I don’t mind it when she rewards me with a tiny smile.

“Where? Outside?”

“I don’t care,” I say. “Your choice. I’ll follow you.”

She surveys me, looking as though she’s deciding. “Aren’t you going to miss the show?” 

“No,” I laugh. “I don’t know this band at all.”

“Me neither,” she admits. She’s nearly knocked off her stool by a surge of the crowd around us, and this seems to seal the deal. “Ok, let’s go.” She stands and winds through the crowd, never releasing my hand. 

_____

Hermione

I lead my tall, red headed stranger to the back patio, feeling instant relief in the cool night air as we step over the threshold. The music is much less loud out here, and it’s not as crowded. I drop his hand as I perch myself on the patio railing, sighing in contentment as my overstimulated senses are satisfied by the calming change in environment.

Ron flags a server for us, so I take the opportunity to examine him while he orders. He’s broad in the shoulders but narrow in the hips, though the shape is flattering in the way his t-shirt pulls across his chest. From underneath the material on his left arm, a full sleeve of tattoos runs enticingly to his wrist, leaving me with a burning desire to see the obscured designs. 

Tattooed and bearded. Just how I like 'em.

The server leaves and he turns his gaze back to me, reminding me of the thing so far that I like the most about him.

His eyes.

They’re almost turquoise-y blue, and seem to ripple like water. That alone would be sexy enough, but there’s something about the way they make me feel. They’re...kind.

He leans his back against the railing where I’m sitting, close enough that my leg is brushing his arm. “So, did you come to this show tonight because you like a little background music while you read?” 

I laugh. “No, my friends dragged me here with them, but I lost track of them pretty much the moment we arrived. Hence, this.” I hold up my book. “What about you? You said you don’t know the band either.”

“Nah,” he agrees. “I was also forced to come out tonight. But, I don’t fancy watching my sister snog her boyfriend all evening so…” He shrugs. His hair moves gently in the night breeze.

“Well look at us,” I say. “A couple of third wheels.”

The server comes back with the drinks: two shots of whiskey and two beers. I thank him as I take mine, and Ron raises his shot glass.

“Left your boyfriend at home, then?” He’s holding the whiskey expectantly, smirking while he waits for my answer.

I roll my eyes. “Very subtle.”

“Oh, you saw what I did there?”

“I did, believe it or not.” I hold my whiskey out as well. “To being single?”

It’s phrased as a question, and there’s a triumphant sparkle in his eye as he clicks his glass against mine. “To being single.”

“Cheers.” We throw back the shot. The alcohol hums just under my skin.

Ron doesn’t return to his previous position, but instead stands in front of me so that his stomach is against my knees. He places his free hand on the outside of my bare thigh, sending tingles down my spine. He meets my eye for a moment, as though asking if I mind, and in response I lean forward and place my free hand on his chest. 

The full, lopsided smile I receive in return is worth it.

“What do you do for a living, Hermione?” His voice is gravelly now.

“I’m in microbiology,” I answer. “I work in a lab.”

“Wow,” he lets out a low whistle. “Smart and beautiful.”

I laugh again. “What about you?”

“I’m a nurse,” he says, puffing out his chest. “I work in the ICU.”

Somehow I understand the kindness in his eyes even more. I’m so distracted by looking into them that I accidentally spill some beer all over my lap. “Oh no, I’m sorry!”

“Watch yourself,” he says, laughing as he grabs a napkin and dabs off my legs. “Why is your drink so full anyway?” 

“Yours is just as full,” I argue, offering my beer as evidence.

He looks between our two glasses and shrugs. “Maybe, but I can drink faster, so it doesn’t count.”

“How do you know that?” I demand, holding the beer up now as a challenge. “Chugging contest?”

His grin is evil and beautiful. “You’re on.”

“Three, two…” We both begin to drink as quickly as we can, though it becomes apparent to me that I’m quite outclassed. His Adam’s apple bobs distractingly and I reach out, tracing my finger down it before I can stop myself.

I freeze, my hand again on his chest, fingers grazing the skin above his neckline. When I meet his eye, he puts his glass on the railing and steps between my legs, wrapping his arms around me to bury his hands in my hair as he pulls me in for a kiss.

The way he feels is so distracting that I drop my own glass, still half full, on the outside of the patio, where it spills in the grass. I’m sure we could get kicked out of the venue for that, but right now I don’t care. I kiss my new friend Ron for all I’m worth. He tastes like whiskey and every flick of his talented tongue ignites tiny fires all over my body. 

We snog for I don’t know how long, until we’re forced to come up for air. He doesn’t step away from me, but keeps his face close to mine as we pant. 

“I can’t waste another second here, can you?” His whisper tickles my cheek.

I run the analysis, weighing my options even as my head spins from the snog. I grip his arms tighter. “We should go somewhere.”

His lopsided smile takes my breath away.

[echos-newlegs]

Hey! Could I request #4 and/or #25 with Rex please? She/her pronouns. I don't care what rating you do but I'd love some fluff in there 💙

Midnight Rambles

I love me some Rex content so how bout both for our Captain 😌 plus I am a loser for Shy RexTM. Gunna start titling these for my master list I plan on making here soon btw, but I’m very bad with them so 😎

Rex x Reader: “it’s okay, just pretend to be my date until they leave.” And “So I was wondering, if, maybe you.. if you weren’t busy— stars this is stupid— would wanna go and hum, maybe get lunch? If you’re free, at lunch?”

Warnings: none

Rex had been the one to invite you to 79s, though you could tell he was reluctant. By the way Fives, Jesse, and Echo smirked over your way. You were sure the boys dared him to. “Rex, you don’t have to ask me to go with you,” you spoke, looking back at the group of three. Though they all pretended to do their own thing the moment Rex looked over his shoulder. “What?— Oh, no! I want to ask you, ignore them, you’re my friend. Plus you seem like you need a drink.” He informed you, and you smiled. “Alright, I’ll go.”

The moment you and the boys got to the cantina, you felt your head ready to burst. The congested area, loud music, stench of alcohol and sweat. You weren’t a fan of cantinas, you’d normally prefer drinking in the comfort of your room, but since Rex asked. You couldn’t say no.

You inhaled sharply when someone pulled you into the crowd of bodies. Losing sight of Rex and the others. Eyes wide as you looked to who had your hand in theirs, but you didn’t recognize them. Skin crawling when the man reached over and grabbed your waist. “Care for a dance, pretty lady?” He asked, causing you to back up as far as his grasp would let you. Cringing at the smell of him and feel of his hands on you. Attempting to shove him away gently at first. “Sir, please let go of me,” you raised your voice a bit. Though he didn’t do anything.

You shoved him, finally getting out of his grasp and heading back for the bar. The man following, grabbing your wrist once more. Thank Maker Rex was standing near where you two were. The moment he noticed you were gone he was off searching for you in the crowd. “Y/N, there you are,” he spoke. Taking your hand in his. Shooting a look at the unnamed man as they let go of you. “And who’s this?” Rex asked, pulling you close to him, making your face flush red. Your body pressing lightly against his.

You looked up to Rex, then over to the man with a bit of a frown. “I don’t know,” the man rolled his eyes and sighed. “Gotta have a clone to protect Ya?” He spat, and Rex leaned down to your ear. Feeling you tremble slightly under his touch. “It’s okay, just pretend to be my date until they leave,” he spoke only loud enough for you to hear. Your hand giving his a squeeze. “I can do my own protecting,” you spat, and the man smirked. “Ought to show me sometime, c’mon, just one dance?” He wasn’t leaving, and you were beginning to get overwhelmed and irritated with it. “C’mon, Princess, let’s head back to the table before my brothers come to find us.” Rex spoke. Leaning down to rest his head by your ear. “Play along,” he whispered, you nodding.

You spun in Rexs grasp. Standing on your tip toes to lean up and kiss his cheek, smile on your face. Sure, this was fake, but it didn’t stop the fluttering of your heart. Nor the zoo of butterflies from erupting. “Sure thing, Angel,” you spoke. Using the first name to come to mind. Now it was Rex’s turn to go wide eyed and blush. Smiling sheepishly as he gave your hand a squeeze and drug you back to the table.

Rex thought he let go of your hand in time. Hoping his brothers wouldn’t see. They found out about his little ‘crush,’ what seemed like before he did. Since then they’d been teasing him each and every time Rex was close to you. Though it was always when you weren’t there.

Not this time, though.

Hardcase was the first to point it out. Standing with a gasp, slamming his hands on the table. Then pointing. “Captain made a move!” He shouted in a drunken slur. Jesse pulling him down. Telling him to quiet down, but that didn’t stop the smile of his face. “Woohoo Ori’vod! Finally confessed your-“ Fives paused mid sentence when he saw the look on Yours, and then Rex’s face. “Or not?” Echo spoke in. Rex was livid, how could they? How could he? He should have just made you walk in front of him, not held your hand practically clear to the table.

“Confessed what? The fact you’re a kriffing stubborn shit?” you spat playfully trying to change the subject. Noticing Rex’s’ tense form. Fives smirking over to you. Shaking his head, “no, what? I’m not a suck up, where’d that come from? You’re mistaking me for Hardcase.” “Ouch,” “Fives, he’s not Wolffe.” Jesse piped in and the four of them bursted into laughter.

Rex sighed through his nostrils, and you smiled over to him. Motioning to the chairs and the two of you took a seat with the others. The banter, teasing, and bickering continuing for most of the night. Til they all began to leave, one after another. Hardcase and Jesse both left, each with a date. Fives got too wasted, and Echo had to basically drag him back to the barracks.

Soon it was just you and Rex left at your table. The two of you sitting side by side. Rex fumbling with his now empty glass. While you continued to sip off your drink. “Thank you,” you spoke. Staring down at the table, and then looking up to catch his eyes. “For what?” He asked, brows knitting together, and you smile. “For earlier, when you got me out of that situation.” His eyes widened a bit in realization and he nodded a bit with a small smile. “Oh, of course, anything for you.” He added, and you smiled. Taking a drink of your drink.

He sighed, and you watched his head roll to the side a bit as he stared forward at the table. “I am sorry though, for pretending to be your date, I uhm.. didn’t know what else to do.” He explained, darting his eyes over to look at you. Making you smile a bit more. “I didn’t mind, it was smart of you.” You told him, finishing your drink. Then standing, moving behind him to lean down into his ear. “Angel..”

His breath caught in his throat. Shuddering as you drug a hand over his shoulder. Eyes falling shut for a second. Then your touch was gone. “Well, we gunna head back?” You asked. Rex nodding a bit frantically. “Yeah, but I have a question.” He spoke. Standing from his seat. Now towering over you just a bit. Hands fidgeting at his side a bit as he stared down to you. “Ok? Shoot.”

He inhaled. Thinking it over for a bit, then let out his spew. “So I was wondering, if, maybe you.. if you weren’t busy— stars this is stupid— would wanna go and hum, maybe get lunch? If you’re free, at lunch?” He rambled out. Almost too quick for him to even process. Letting his eyes fall shut, and brows furrow as he cursed himself under his breath. Opening them a bit slowly to see your expression.

You were watching him closely, a bit of a furrow to your own brow. He would think it was absolutely adorable if these were any other circumstances. “I-“ you spoke, and you hesitation felt like a knife to his chest. “You don’t have to, you know what, forget I said anything, let’s just head back. We’re tired and have probably drank too much and-“ he rambled. Heading to walk by you, but you caught his hand with yours. “Rex, I’d love to have lunch with you.” You interrupted.

Rex stared at you for a moment. Eyes wide, and you swore you saw stars in them. Making the corners of your lips curl up in a bit of a smile. “Really?” “Really, now let’s head back, I’m tired and my beds screaming my name right now.” You wined a bit. Causing him to chuckle. “Alright, let’s get going then.”

The moment the two of you made it back to the barracks you tugged him past where he bunked, towards your own room. Thankful as someone who worked in the medical field you got a separate room all for yourself. “Y/N, where are you- my place is back there.” He spoke, trying to tell you what you already knew. “I know.” Was all you said. Leaving him confused. Though he didn’t question it.

You opened the door to your room. Walking in, and looking back to the blond with a grin. “C’mon,” you could tell he wanted to protest, but after one more quick look over you. A small huff escaped his lips and he trailed in. “What are we doing?” He asked, and you sighed. Heading for the bedroom to grab your clothes you wore for bed. “Sleeping, you can’t say no either. It’s cold, and I let you take me to 79s. So get cozy, Captain.” You spoke with a small grin. Stepping out of your shoes, and wandering for the fresher.

Rex stood there a bit in shock as you disappeared behind the door. He wasn’t sure if this was real or a joke? Was it? This night felt.. Too perfect almost. But he did as told. Pulling his armor off and stacking it by the door. Being left in his blacks, so he made way for the bed. Sitting on it while he waited for you. Eyes wandering the simple room. It wasn’t anything fancy, nor did it have the decorations you wanted. But it was nicer than what Rex had, really ever, slept in.

His attention turned back to the fresher when you exited in your night wear. A smile spreading to his lips unknowingly. Making you smile as well. “What?” You asked as you walked over to the bed. Feet lightly padding on the floor. “Nothin’,” Rex told you matter of factly. Climbing in next to you, as you did. “Oh yeah, then why are you smiling like that?” You questioned with a raised brow, and he watched as you brought your hands to his chest. “What, I can’t smile at a pretty girl?” Your face tinted pink at that. Giggling softly. “You’re a dork,” was all you said, before reluctantly scooting closer. Arms snaking around his neck. His arms hesitantly moving to your hips. Placing them there gently. “Is this okay?” You nodded, staring into his eyes. “Yeah,” you whispered. “What about,” he wrapped his arms around your torso now, pulling you into his body. “This?”

You gulped, nodding a bit. Both your faces tinted a light red. He was getting daring now. Leaning in close to your face. “How ‘bout,” his lips were so close to yours. Your noses rubbing against one another. “A kiss?” You licked your lips, smiling a bit sheepishly. “How about you find out?” Rex smirked in response. Leaning in to press his lips to yours. Them molding together like a sort of puzzle piece. You felt all sort of euphoric. Pleasure, joy, excitement, all coursing through your guys bodies. Your lips felt like they were on fire. Head going light and fuzzy the longer it carried out. When he did finally part it felt as if you forgot to breathe.

Your eyes stayed shut for a moment, then slowly opened to meet his loving gaze. “So?” He questioned. “Was it okay?” You smiled at that. Your hands moving to run through his short locks. “Rex,” “hm?” You grinned as he nudged your cheek with his nose. “It was perfect.”

[behindyourbarrette]

like you a latte - party parasols/stovetop

←previous | series masterlist | join my taglist

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 2k

warnings:  brief alcohol mention, none other than that

a/n: and just like that, it’s over! i cannot believe it. the reception to this series has surpassed my greatest expectations! thank you all for being here, reading, and cheering me on! i hope you like how our two dorks’ story ends :) as always TELL ME WHAT U THINK orrrr REBLOG! both help me, a new writer, out tremendously :)

—

You’re late.

It’s a cruel twist of fate, but a twist of fate nonetheless. Your afternoon classes ran late, and the roads were congested on the way home. There are a million reasons why you’re late, and none of them make up for the disappointment you feel.

It’s a sad attempt at getting ready. You’ve been texting with Penelope all week—ever since Spencer was called away, really, about the team’s plan to decompress at a bar afterwards. While the setting strikes you as odd at first, you quickly realize that you haven’t been to a bar since undergrad.

It’s strangely exciting. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror before you hitch a ride with Pen, purse slung over your shoulder and eyes wide with anticipation. You look like yourself—a smile on your face, in an outfit you feel confident in. With a leap, you close the door behind you, keys jingling in your hands.

The ride across town is short, and Penelope peppers you with questions the entire time. While she’s not a profiler, she should be one—you’re positive that she’s picked up on the shift in the dynamic between you and Spencer, and she has no qualms about asking. You groan, feeling a little like you’re being interrogated by an older sister.

“Spence is so private! I’m still surprised he let us meet you. Spare me a little detail, darling?”

You chuckle, your cheeks warming. You would like to know what Spencer says about you when you’re not there to hear it. Your heart thrums against your chest in a quick rhythm as you draw closer to the bar, and you feel a twist of juvenile excitement when you catch sight of the neon lights.

It’s a little late, the city stuck in the lull between day and night. Lights twinkle above you as you hop out of Penelope’s car, laughing and joking. In the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a black SUV. Then, a familiar lanky figure.

“Hey, Spence.”

Penelope shoots you a knowing look and rushes off to meet JJ, and you’re left alone. Spencer opens the door for you, tugging on it to reveal the inside of the bar. It has all the makings of a great place to have fun. Multicolor lights, a dart board, a wall of liquor, and booming 2000’s hits. You grin as you step inside, into the throng of people. You spot Emily at the bar, having beat the team there. 

It’s crowded, and proving difficult to push and pull past the dancing bodies. Looking up at Spencer, he seems on edge. You take a deep breath and begin to wind through the crowd, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you slip your hand into his. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. A grin makes its home on both of your faces as you approach the bar, greeted by a few new people.

“This is Morgan. And that’s Hotchner. You know Emily and JJ.” Spencer gestures to both of the new figures. You shake both of their hands, noting the excited smiles on their faces.  The entire group seems happy, exchanging glances as Spencer sits at the bar, eyes on you. Morgan you’ve heard about, and he’s just as suave in person as described to you by Penelope and sometimes, Spencer. He asks about what you do for work, looking between you and Spencer with something that looks like intrigue.

“I’m a barista, downtown. I’m also studying law.” You offer, a little bashful. These people are all incredibly established, and you’re…wooing people through coffee. Derek takes a sip of his drink, smiling like he knows something you don’t.

“You, my friend,” He says, pointing to emphasize his words, “Make the world go around. Seriously. I don’t know what this team’d do without coffee.”

You blush, looking up at Spencer. A new expression is seated on his face—it looks like pride. Penelope drags Derek onto the dance floor, and you watch them slow dance with a new degree of fondness for the both of them. Despite the fact that the bar is blasting Usher, the bass booming through the floor, they make a waltz work. Emily and JJ step away from the bar to compete at darts, their voices carrying over the music as the stakes heighten. You order a frozen margarita, and Spencer orders a water. 

“Can I get one of the, uh, fancy umbrellas? And one for him, too?” You ask the bartender, a grisly man who seems disenchanted with your request. Spencer just watches as you take the toothpick and press it into your slush, dropping a parasol into his water after you’re done. Satisfied, you grin up at him.

“Match with me.”

He’s pretty like this—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile this much. The bar fades into the background as you watch his focus shift, eyes trailing across your face. 

“You, uh. You look beautiful.”

Something catches and pulls in your chest. He means it—his cheeks are red with the effort of it, but his eyes never leave you. It occurs to you while this isn’t a very conventional first date, a few traditions are worth keeping. You offer him a soft smile, setting your drink down. 

“So do you.”

You feel a little brave; he does that to you. In any other circumstance, you’d be nervous. The bar is loud and you can feel his friends watching you, their gazes less than subtle as you convince yourself to take the leap.

You’re in luck. He moves first, offering you a crooked smile as he takes your face into his hands. You reach up, arms around his neck as he leans in. The excited cheers from the dance floor are lost on the both of you as he kisses you, softly and with something that tastes a little like cinnamon and a lot like hope. He isn’t hesitant—his initial fierceness melts into something tender and warm. With a grin, you pull away to watch him blush and straighten the collar of his shirt. You reach up to press a decisive kiss to his temple, and you can almost hear Penelope’s squeal from across the bar.

You don’t really believe in fate. But some things are just too good to be coincidental. You’ve turned back to your drink, trying to tone down your smile when you hear David Bowie begin to croon over the speakers. Your face cracks into a grin, and you practically yell over the disco as you attempt to drag Spencer onto the dance floor. He’s strong, and your attempts to tug him forward are futile. He looks amused by your efforts, though, smirking as you pull on his forearm.

“Holy shit, Spence. I love this song.” 

“I don’t dance. Really. I have, three left feet, as they say." He makes a show of shuffling in demonstration, hands in his pockets, and the sight is so adorable you think you might cry. Instead, you laugh, and turn your head to catch sight of Penelope, who is already mid-shimmy.

“For me?”

You say, batting your eyelashes as you peer up at him. To your total surprise, his expression softens and he reaches for you. The feeling of your forearms dwarfed in his hands lingers as you both walk onto the floor, swaying lightly. You’d let him step on your feet a million times just to see the look on his face as you spin around, laughing as you go. It feels a little like fate. 

---

stovetop, months and months later

Everything is better up close.

It is not the first time you have considered this; where you once kept your distance, lingering in unknowns, you now lean in. Spencer is not someone to be admired from afar; you prefer this. You’re tucked into the crook of his arm, watching his chest rise and fall with each slow, sleepy breath. It’s early morning, sunlight peeking through the curtains and warming your skin in long slices. 

There’s work to be done, phone calls to be answered. People to be saved. Coffee to be poured. Suits to be filed. But here, feeling his heartbeat thrum against your own, life feels a little less urgent. There is a space to be occupied, a world where he holds you until you both wake up, and time slows into a delicate push and pull.

Later, you wake up and he’s gone. While familiar, the low sting of this isn’t lost on you. Stretching out into his side of the bed—technically, it’s all his side of the bed, considering you’re the one who consistently overtakes more of his apartment as time goes by—you watch the morning light grow brighter. There’s a stack of books on your bedside, each curated for you. This is how you two are; you read, and work, and miss him. He comes back, invariably, sometimes a little bruised or quiet in his contemplation of what he sees, but he always comes back.

It’s only after you’ve pulled yourself out of bed and padded towards the kitchen that you hear a faint gurgle, followed by the rush of steam. A smile breaks across your face, and once you round the corner you see him. He’s fiddling with the Moka pot you bought him for Christmas, absorbed in the mechanics of the safety valve. He doesn’t see you for a few moments, eyes narrowed as he focuses. A small smile forms on his face as you walk towards him, crossing the kitchen counter with your arms outstretched.

You press into his side, burying your face into the warmth of his shoulder. It’s easier than you think you deserve; this is a way of holding you, too. Still working on the coffee pot, he lifts his arm and pulls you close. 

“Good morning,” He mutters, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “The air pressure is too high.” You nod sagely, wrapping your arms around his waist. He eventually settles and pours the coffee, golden brown and just how you like it, into two mugs. You hum contentedly, watching as he stirs creamer in.

“I would have used the espresso machine if you had asked,” you point out, eyes flicking up to his. You hold your mug delicately; it’s hot, and you think you may have worn the ceramic out. It’s only been a few months since he gave it to you, insisting that the “World’s Best Lawyer” inscription was fitting. The rest of your mugs are now collecting dust in the cabinet, forever unused. “I was awake.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek, his stubble scratching against your skin. You smile against him, and gently clink the rim of your mug against his. After you’ve both sipped, he speaks. 

“I wanted to make some for you,” he says. He takes another sip, this time narrowing his eyes. “It’s not very good.”

You set your mug down, and reach for him. Pressing kisses to each part of his face—both his cheeks, then his forehead, then his nose, then that freckle you like on the cut of his jaw—you disagree. You sink back onto your feet after you’re satisfied, watching his blush deepen as you pull away.

“It's perfect.” His face brightens a little, and this spurs you forward. Any apprehension about being this cheesy is absolved by the way he’s looking at you. 

“I mean, you probably could have done better. You’re better at measuring.” He counters, just because he knows it will make you smile.

“I love it. Because it’s you.” You mumble against the rim of your mug, grinning wickedly, and you’re caught off guard when he reaches for you, catching you in a kiss and holding you tightly. Your arms around his neck, you grin. You decide mornings are your new favorite time of day.

taglist <3

@everyonesfavoritepipecleaner @coldlilheart @idonotexiste @aberrant-annie @onyourfingertips @bakugouswh0r3 @uptowngotmedown @infinite-tides @chaosconcerns @littlewritersinspace​ @okivia @forever-not-gonna-sink​ @insert-gay-here​ @just-another-persona123​ @winniemjf @jammiebirch @thedancingnerdmermaid @the-chaotic-cow @briefgoateeking @ceridwen-02 @rare-breed-of-human 

[bloodyspade0000]

[Akahai] Some love and Care

Summary: Akashi takes care of his sick boyfriend

Trigger Warning: Mentions of past child abuse

A/N: This is for @hkbs-world @geometricalien @aylablack15 @sophia902103 @kisechiii @southside-otaku and the rest of my 214 followers, and even though I don't understand why people follow me I love and appreciate you all 😫💖🥰💕👍. Stay safe or I'll come for you. JK. Just stay safe and take care of yourselves, okay? 💕

Also big thanks to @sophia902103 for helping with this 💖!

And feedback is appreciated 😌.

This has fluff and light angst cuz I'm the self-proclaimed queen of angst and fluff and everything I write has to have both. Sometimes crack 😂.

[Ao3 Link]

Haizaki's nose was so stuffed he could barely breathe through it, his throat raw and sore making it hard to talk, and his stomach ached like never before, and he had thrown up four times that day. 

To say the least, he felt like utter shit and knew he should let himself rest. 

But wasn't in the mood to sleep and opted to go downstairs and watch TV for a while or at least until Akashi came back from whatever his father wanted him to do.

Haizaki stumbled, almost tripping down the stairs as he dragged himself to the living room and slumped onto the couch. 

He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, watching whatever was on. 

Losing interest in it quickly, Haizaki fell asleep. 

It was moments later when Akashi had come home, taking his shoes off at the entrance and hanging his coat on the coat hanger before going into the living room. 

He stopped for a brief moment, catching sight of his boyfriend fast asleep on the couch with the TV on. 

Akashi smiled softly, moving closer to the couch. He bent down and pressed a kiss to Haizaki's forehead. 

But then frowned slightly, feeling something was off. He placed the back of his palm to Haizaki's forehead. 

He was running a fever.

Akashi went upstairs and fetched a thermometer along with a cloth, a bowl of cold water and a soft blanket before heading back to his still sleeping boyfriend's side.

He draped the blanket over Haizaki and gently put the thermometer into his ear. Then pulled it out when it beeped.  

His lips set into a grim line when he saw how high Haizaki's fever was and was upset Haizaki hadn't informed him he wasn't feeling well. 

Yet this was Haizaki, after all. He never asked for help and thought he could do everything on his own even when it was obvious he couldn't, and Akashi always ended up finding out when Haizaki could no longer hide it, or the situation got worse. 

Akashi didn't mind looking after him. It was just worrisome how Haizaki refused to let his guard down around anyone. 

Sure, Haizaki let his walls down around Akashi. Yet would have them back up whenever he thought he was being a burden. 

Haizaki was never a burden. 

Akashi loved him dearly and rather have Haizaki tell him things Instead of hiding them. 

It was what they argued about most of the time. All their arguments ending with Haizaki promising he would ask for help but never following short. 

However, Akashi couldn't fully blame Haizaki for the way he was. 

Haizaki grew up not having anyone to turn to and learned to adapt on his own while his mother drank away her sorrows and his big brother rotted away in jail while his father had abandoned the family years ago. 

He had spent his childhood being abused by his alcoholic mother and with his big brother dealing drugs on the streets in order to provide for their family, forcing Haizaki to grow up too fast. 

Going through so much on his own was what got Haizaki to go down the wrong path and would have stayed on if Akashi hadn't helped him out.

Haizaki had helped him out too, convincing Akashi to leave his father's place, get his own and teaching him to do things Akashi usually had servants do for him.

Fortunately, Akashi had managed to get Haizaki to agree to live with him, and they have been for three years after years of being together. 

Their relationship had started with a small crush on Akashi's behalf until it had escalated to Akashi seeking out Haizaki and confessing his feelings. 

Haizaki had been surprised but, of course, reciprocated his feelings. They soon began dating, spending their free time together and talking about whatever came to mind, sharing hobbies and interests. 

Akashi had quickly found out that Haizaki didn't know how to act when people were kind to him, after not receiving an ounce of kindness while growing up. 

The first time Akashi had hugged Haizaki, he had burst into tears. Akashi had let go of him, thinking he had done something wrong until Haizaki had reassured him he had done nothing wrong and explained he had never been hugged before or at least didn't remember the last time he had.  

After that, Akashi had made it his duty to have Haizaki get used to it, showing him affection and how much he cared about him every day. Making sure to spoil him rotten even though Haizaki complained most of the time. (All the time) 

Of course, Haizaki did too in his own way, making Akashi homemade bento boxes and equally showing Akashi how much he loved him. 

Akashi appreciated all the things Haizaki's done for him and knew Haizaki did too.

Akashi loved him more than anything. So seeing him hurt or sick just like now greatly troubled him.

He put the cloth in the bowl of cold water, soaking it before dabbing Haizaki's neck and face. Working on bringing his fever down, and once he had, Akashi went into the kitchen.

He gathered ingredients for chicken soup and tossed them together. He was just putting the small pot of broth onto the stove when Haizaki walked in, looking a bit better than before as he rubbed his eyes and stopped when he noticed him. "Sei?" Haizaki spoke, voice croaky and congested from both a stuffed nose and sore throat. "When did you come home?"

"An hour ago," Akashi answered, expression softening as he glanced back at Haizaki. "You shouldn't be up right now, baby."

"But I'm fine, Sei," Haizaki protested, letting out a whine. "I—" 

"Shougo," Akashi cut in sternly. Already accustomed to his boyfriend's behaviour. "I know you don't want to stay still and hate not having anything to do, but you need to rest. Please, don't push yourself, baby?" 

"Okay," Haizaki said, giving in a little too easier than normal and the thought of Haizaki not having enough energy to protest a second time worried Akashi even more.

"Bed or sofa?" Akashi said.

"Sofa's closer," Haizaki mumbled, rubbing his eyes again and sniffing to ease back the tickle in his nose. "Don't feel like walkin' up the stairs."

"Alright, baby." Akashi took his hand and led him into the living room, helping him sit down on the couch. 

He then went back to the kitchen, grabbing the chicken soup and some medicine before heading back to Haizaki, who was watching cartoons. "Are you alright with me feeding you, baby?" Akashi asked, not minding at all as he sat down beside him. 

"Yeah," Haizaki nodded, blushing a little. "You can."

'Cute,' Akashi pecked his nose. "Alright." He took a spoon full of broth and blew on it gently before leading it to Haizaki's mouth and feeding him. 

When the bowl was half empty, Akashi put it down and gave Haizaki some medicine and helped him drink water. 

Haizaki laid down, pulling Akashi down with him and curling up against him, covering them both with the blanket. 

Akashi turned in his arms and kissed him. "I love you,"

"I love you too," Haizaki murmured, nuzzling his neck. "How were things with your old man?"

"It was alright," Akashi told him, creasing his cornrows. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?"

"It wasn't this bad in the mornin'," Which was Haizaki's way of saying, 'I didn't want to bother you,'

"Baby, we talked about this," Akashi scolded him slightly. "You're supposed to tell me even if it's not bad." 

"Sorry,"

"It's okay," 

Akashi kissed him again.

Haizaki smiled, kissing him back before pulling away and closing his eyes. 

Soon they both fell asleep, cuddling on the couch. 

[leapyearkisses]

Consequences - (m, m/m preslash) Oneshot

Reupload. My brief attempt at writing an action thriller. Imagine if it were possible to buy a pill to make you sick. Then imagine you tried to use that pill to avoid the monumental consequences of your greed-motivated actions.

Probably a bit nsfw, mess, crimes against the environment, bastard men, capitalism, tw alcoholism

---

Murashiki Aritomo lifted the small white pill and examined it with a critical eye.  It looked no different than an aspirin or a breath mint, so innocuous as to be almost unbelievable.  But he was running out of options.  There wasn’t a lot of time to arrange anything different, and he wasn’t sure now whether there was any other course of action that wouldn’t land him in prison.  “This pill will make me sick?”

“It will, I can promise you that.”  The drug’s purveyor, Paul Gascoigne, had been Murashiki’s classmate in undergrad, although while Murashiki had gone into developmental chemistry, Gascoigne had pursued medicine.  Or at least pharmacology.  He looked the part now, dressed in a bespoke black suit and a white lab coat for effect, although his bright ginger hair brought a touch of life to the somber outfit.  “Flu symptoms for a week, starting about six hours after taking it.”  He shook the unlabeled bottle in his hand.  “If you double up, the symptoms get worse and last longer.  I’ll even give you a discount.”

Murashiki eyed the bottle, then shook his head.  “No, I only need to be unavailable for the length of the Summit.”

Gascoigne smiled in a manner befitting a fox.  “Yes, I’d heard on the DL there was some nasty business with the LiveBetter plastics.  Are you seeking new employment opportunities?”

Murashiki produced his wallet.  “I’ll give you an extra €50 to stop asking me questions.”

“Deal.” Gascoigne slipped the bottle back into an inner pocket and got up from where he’d been leaning against the wall.  He held out a hand for the money and didn’t make a secret of counting it before secreting that away as well.  “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said.  “While I have your attention, may I just say that my doors are always open if you’d like to seek out other opportunities as well.”

“I’m married,” snapped Murashiki, automatically running his thumb over the place where his wedding band used to be.

“Ah, young love,” Gascoigne said, mocking.  “You know, she’s a decade gone to Monaco, or Dubai, or wherever it is these days where they pay for high-class whor-”

“Get out.”

Gascoigne spread his hands, conciliatory.  “On my way.”  He turned on his heel and left the office, letting the glass-fronted door swing shut behind him.  Murashiki glared at his retreating back until it was gone, then glared at the door itself.  White frosted writing identified his sins.

Aritomo Murashiki, Ph.D.  Senior Project Lead, LiveBetter Development Group

He’d shredded all of his files already, but he checked the desk once more to be sure.  Everything he wanted to keep he’d put into a slim silver suitcase.  He wouldn’t be coming back here, God willing. The pill sat on top of his desk.  He swallowed it with a mouthful of whiskey from the decanter underneath.  With luck, he could make his excuses the next morning to the relevant people and be on his way out of the country by evening.

---

Murashiki reached his room at the Holiday Inn just past midnight.  He put his suitcase by the door and stripped to his shirtsleeves and boxer-briefs before going into the bathroom to splash some water on his face.  He’d always been one to keep up appearances for the investors, but after all the late night as alcohol he was starting to look wan.  He rubbed his eyes, pushing up his glasses.  He hadn’t expected that, at 37, his life would be self-destructing in such a public manner.  As soon as the environmental compliance reports were brought up in front of the EU, the company would throw him under the bus and that would be that.

Not that he didn’t deserve it.  He drew away from the mirror and back into the darkened bedroom.  He’d been present for almost every step of the process.  His initial warnings had fallen on deaf ears, and then... well, the money had been too good.

“Lead me not into temptation,” he mumbled, laying down on the bed closest to the exit.  Maybe he should have stuck with the whole religion thing after Satine had left, but he hadn’t been too fond of faith in the months after.  He touched his ring finger again.  He knew he was a fool.  Gascoigne was right, if insufferable.  He closed his eyes.  Unbidden, the man’s face came to him.  Always looking sly and fit, he’d cut a dashing figure in college, too.  They’d made out once, twice... Murashiki had already been married then, but a little bit of beer and bisexual guilt had motivated a slip here and there.  He’d never felt like he was “settling” for Satine - in fact, he’d loved her quite dearly - but he’d always been afraid of missing out.

He set an alarm for 5 AM.  That would give him enough time to contact the VP.  Hopefully by then the pill would have kicked in so it didn’t seem like he was shirking.  Of course, everyone would know why he wasn’t there soon enough, but he’d have a head start.  He felt fine at the moment, if stressed.  It had been four hours.

For the price he’d paid, Gascoigne had better not have ripped him off.

------

Five o’clock came too quickly.  Murasaki groped for his phone on the bedside table, slapping at it uncoordinatedly to turn off the alarm.  The room was still pitch black.  He groaned.

The doctor hadn’t been playing him; he felt awful.  His head was heavy and his limbs ached dully - perhaps he was already running a fever?  His mouth was dry, and when he tried to moisten it he realized why: he couldn’t breathe through his nose at all.  Rubbing it produced no relief, just an irritating shift of congestion in his sinus that led to sharp gasp and a rushed sneeze.

“Hahkyusht!”  He caught it against his wrist, and the next two in his palms.  “Hhkyuschtt!  Hgkktschkt!”  Head throbbing, he wiped saliva and snot on the sheets and got out of bed.  He’d seen a tissue box on the toilet tank last night and was in great need of it.

The fluorescent overhead light set him cursing when he flicked it on.  It felt like high beams stabbing him in the face after a particularly intemperate night of drinking.  He shielded his eyes with one arm and grabbed a handful of tissues to crush against his nose.  He was going to sneeze again.  He could feel an itch clawing deep inside his left nostril.  He squinted against it, trying to take shallow breaths, but it didn’t help.  “Hahgktsciutsz!”

The tissues were a mess already, but he tried to blow his nose.  That lead to coughing, too, and he found himself leaning over the sink, trying to get his bearings.  “The fuck did you put in that pill?” he growled to himself.  Surely not a live virus?  The consequences would be staggering.  And not just because he felt himself a little dizzy and unsteady on his feet.  It would be easy to transport pills across borders, easy to disguise them as something harmless - they already looked it.  Influenza was already one of the most deadly of epidemics.  What if Gascoigne could take TB, rabies, ebola and weaponize it marketed as aspirin or loperamide??

In the mirror, his gray eyes were wide and Murasaki could see even without his glasses that he was sweating.  He shivered.  Right.  Things were getting out of hand.  He was just feverish and letting his tension take over.

He took the tissues back into the room with him and returned to the bed.  He just had to make a few calls and then get out.  Everything would be fine.  He could make flight arrangements in the taxi and then be on his way back to Japan faster than you could say “non-extradition country.”  

It was 5:12.  The VP picked up on the third ring.  “Dr. Murasaki?” she asked, sounding like she hadn’t had her coffee yet.  “What is it?”

“Good morning, ma’am.”  He didn’t have to force the coughing that followed.  “I realize it’s terrible timing...”

“You sound awful.”  

He coughed again in agreement.  “I feel awful.  I’m nih- not sure I’ll make it to the convention center.”  He pinched his nose, at least until he could feel the sneeze cresting.  Then he let it out, not too far from his phone’s microphone.   “Hahkgtschgt!”  Mess painted his lips and he struggled to breathe past it for a moment.

“Santé!” She was too polite to sound appalled, but she was quick to dismiss him.  “We’ll miss you at the luncheon and awards ceremony.” 

“Oh, I don’t mind,” he said, through more tissues.  “The team is just as deserving of recognition for this as I am.”

“Yes, of course.  I will pass on news of your absence to the event coordinators.”  In the end, it didn’t really matter to her whether the scientists behind the company’s products were there or not, just that the presentation was made on time and the right people (her) made the right headlines.  Someone would make sure the info made it to the European stage.  And that someone would not be Murasaki.  He didn’t envy whoever was left with the data.  He didn’t even know if anyone else who was going knew exactly what they meant.  But the audience would.

He was free, though, for now.  He thanked her and hung up, then let the phone fall from his hand to the pillows.  “Hah... haah-”  If he could leave off sneezing for twenty minutes, he would be golden.  His nostrils flared, and he fumbled for more tissues as the right started running, worsening the irritation to an unbearable degree.  “Hakgschtgnx!  Nktscgshx!”  His ears rang and he dropped to lay back on the bed.  He hadn’t felt this bad since back in college, junior finals week, when he’d stayed up for four days and then been bedridden for just as long.  His nose felt raw already.  Even his eye sockets hurt.  He lay his arm back over his face, enjoying how cool it felt on his forehead.

He would just close his eyes for a minute.  For one minute, he would try to will away the pain and heat.

------

“HEY!”

Murasaki startled awake to the sound of fists raining down against the door.  He tried to kick out at an assailant, caught the sheet, and struggled until he found himself on the floor.  Threadbare carpeting pressed into his cheek and he tried desperately to remember where he was.  Not the office.  Not his apartment in Montmartre.  He forced himself to sit up and had to lean against the bed to stay upright.

He was in a hotel, he finally remembered. He was staying here before he left the city.  Just a few phone calls to make- no, he’d called the VP.  The room was awash in the orange light of fading afternoon.  His stomach twisted.  That wasn’t right.

The pounding hadn’t stopped, but by the time Murasaki thought he might be able to address it, whoever was outside had forced their way in.  He expected a horde of angry journalists, armed with cameras and microphones like on TV, but it was only one man.  Gascoigne, he thought.  It took him a moment to place the man without his glasses, but that hair...

“What are you doing?!” Gascoigne practically shouted.  He shoved the door closed again and used Murasaki’s suitcase to keep it from swinging.  “You’re still in Paris?  There’s an uproar!  They were showing parts of the Summit live, you know.”  He grabbed Murasaki’s elbow and yanked him to his feet.  “I wasn’t sure whether Le Monde or Greenpeace would get you first, but it’s much worse than that.”  No lab coat today, Murasaki noted distractedly.  Jeans and a bomber jacket.  Did black-market doctors get weekends?

He tried to free his arm and failed.

“I can’t believe you’re still here,” Gascoigne was saying still.  He shook the smaller man.  “Idiot.  Did you hear what I said?  The Russian mafia put out a hit on you!  Hey!”  He grabbed Murasaki by the nape.  “They found out LiveBetter is behind the collapse of their fishing interests in the Black Sea.  This is all over the deep web.  Hey.”  He shook Murasaki again.  “What’s wrong with you??”

Murasaki pressed his hand against Gascoigne’s chest, tried to push away from him.  “You,” he said.  “You poisoned me, or s- somethih- Hahktsch! Haktschngx!”

“Christ.”  Gascoigne let him go.  

Murasaki lifted his hands.  “Hgkttschzx!  You... what is this?  I’m burning up.” He was shivering, too.  He felt sick and dizzy.  “I must have passed out.”

“Yeah, you look like shit,” said Gascoigne.  He shrugged at Murasaki’s glare.  “What?  Sometimes it hits harder for people if they haven’t taken it before.  S’not exactly FDA approved.”

Murasaki collected more tissues and blew his nose.  “How did you find me?”  This was not good.  He’d be stopped at the airport, probably.  The mafia had connections all over Europe.

“Your phone.”  Gascoigne had picked it up off the pillow.  “You have... sixty missed calls and messages.  Wow.”  He dropped the device unceremoniously behind the bed.  “We’re leaving that here.  Get dressed.”

“‘We’?” Murasaki tossed the tissues to the carpet and started trying to button his shirt.  His pants were where he’d left them, and he picked them up, leaning against the wall dizzily as he tried to get them on one leg and then the other.

Gascoigne moved the blinds aside and took stock of the street outside.  “Yes, ‘we.’  I didn’t come after you for my own health.  Get going.  Where are your shoes?”

The two of them, led by Gascoigne, left out the back stairwell.  Gascoigne had parked an unassuming tan Renault at the sidewalk and he pushed Murasaki into the passenger seat before taking the wheel and driving out of the courtyard.  After only minutes, the car blended seamlessly in with the local traffic.  “We’ll head to Germany for now.  I’m sure the mafia has people at Charles de Gaulle.   When we get a chance, maybe Brazil?”  He was driving admirably despite the pressure he’d put himself under.  Not drawing the attention of anyone.

It didn’t occur to Murasaki, with how terrible he was feeling, to ask why Gascoigne had actually come for him until they were close to the border.  “I mean, you didn’t have to get involved,” he said.  “No one would have connected our names.”  He was looking up at Gascoigne’s face from under his bangs.  The car window was nicely cold against his temple.

Gascoigne glanced over to him and rolled his eyes.  “You’re an idiot.”

There was a silence.  Murasaki coughed.  “Is that it??”

Gascoigne didn’t meet his gaze, focusing on the highway ahead.  “You didn’t think I was just hitting on you to piss you off, did you?”

Murasaki frowned, then looked away.  “Oh.”

“You don’t have to answer me,” Gascoigne said, voice carefully neutral.  “I’m doing this because I want to.”  He reached down and turned on the radio.  The point was clear: no discussion was to be had at this time.

Murasaki stared out at the passing countryside and tried to get a handle on the mix of emotions churning inside him.  Fear, gratitude, helplessness, lust... he couldn’t think through the fever and eventually gave in to a numbing haze.  With luck, he would live long enough to figure out what he wanted a day, a week, a month from now.

Gascoigne kept driving.

[builder051]

some things never change

Chasing ghosts

Warnings for mentions of alcohol/drug use and SA

__________________

James wakes in the LaZBoy in the corner lf the living room, his head barely supported by the throw pillow jammed between the chair's arm and cushioned back. Light streams through the cheap blinds. James wonders what time it is. Then, vaguely, what day it its.

He rubs his eyes, which feel full of the haze of leftover burning smoke. His mouth tastes like smoke, too. Sort of like tobacco. A little like weed. He's evidentially been partying, even though that's not typically his thing. At least, not anymore.

James stretches and punches in the chair's footrest with his heels. It makes a popping sound, and that arouses a gran from the sofa across the rom.

"God, you're fucking loud," a small, hoarse voice complains.

"Tash?" James squints to distinguish her mop of red hair from the mound of quilts and afghans. There's a trash bin on ghe floor near what would appear to be Tasha's head. James assumes she's been partying too. Maybe she's the reason he's been partying in the first place.

"Hmph," the pile of blankets replies. James takes it as an affirmative.

"Ok." James pushes to his feet. Dizziness threatens to send him reeling for a moment, but he manages to shuffle into the kitchen and pour water into the coffeepot before his stomach bottoms out and he retches into the sink.

James's mouth and nose burn with bile, and he stifles a hacking cough.

"You ok?" Someone asks from behind James's shoulder.

James tries to keep his natural fight or flight response at bay whilst also stopping another dry retch before it finds its way into his throat. "Huh?" he says quickly. "I-- I'm--"

"Buck," Steve murmurs apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok," James chokes. He swallows hard and forces a smile.

Steve looks at him a little doubtfully. Then furrows his brows in an expression of real concern.

"What happened last night?" he asks in a low voice.

"I'm..." James swallows again, then turns back to the sink and spits. "Still trying to figure that out."

"You came home at two-thirty," Steve offers. "If that helps."

James shrugs. "My guess is that the supposed knight in shining armor wound up getting... pretty busted up."

"You're not all beat up, though," Steve says. "And you weren't that out of it. James is sure he's giving the mildest report humanly possible.

"I know I was high," James immediately admits, putting up his hands in honest innocence. "On what, I have practically no idea."

Regular cigarettes and pot can usually blur the edges for him a little, but it takes something heavier to drop him on his ass. Prescription grade, at least. Though he doesn't explicitly tell Steve that.

"Well," Steve says, glancing toward the living room to see Tasha's current grade of consciousness. "If you were high, she was fucking blitzed." Steve pauses. "And I don't know if it's, like, a thing, or something. I've never partied like that, but--"

"Just spit it out," James says with a sigh, taking the towel from the handle of the dishwasher to wipe his face.

"She didn't have any pants." Steve looks fairly mortified. "Like, you had her all covered with your jacket, like a dress, and all..." He trails off.

That partially explains why there are so many blankets on the sofa. Also why there are no sounds of the laundry machines tumbling all traces of last night out of Tasha's scant clothes.

"Meh." James shrugs. He puts the towel back. "Happens sometimes. Especially if there's something like... an unplanned interruption."

Steve takes a deep breath. "Wow." Then, "If you knew it was, well, that kind of party, why'd you let her go?"

"No question of letting her," James says, suddenly exhausted. "She's 18. She can make her own decisions."

"But, alcohol?" Steve ask. "Drugs? Guys?"

"She doesn't like guys," James says quickly, and with a snarky smile.

"But she was, obviously, well, you know--"

"Transactional," James says. "At least that's probably how it started." He looks into the living room to see if Tasha has stirred any more, which she hasn't. Drunken wakings are like that-- coming and going a bit before one knows what's really real. He hopes that's where Tasha is right now.

James glances at Steve, who still has the same curious look. "Do I really have to spell it out for you?"y

"No," Steve says, "But--?"

"Well, share your body and I'll share my drugs is one thing." It still brings a disgusted look to James's face. "But when you go in there to get her and she's naked and trying to break her own thumb to escape the handcuffs and the second guy's dropping his pants to take his turn..." James squeezes his eyes shut. He feels sick all over again, though he's already emptied the contents of his stomach.

"You want to take her in?" Steve suggests, his eyes wide. "Do a kit or something?"

"You can ask her when she gets up," James says doubtfully. "But if she's behaving anything like her regular self, she's gonna say she agreed to the first guy, and all he's guilty of is being rough. I'm pretty sure I punched the second guy out before he got on her.

"That's just..." Steve pauses..."Nuts. That you know this. That you aren't freaking out about this."

"Yeah, well, I learned pretty quickly that there better be specific relevant details when I first tried taking her to the ER after she turned 18. Hadn't moved out of the home yet, but was still trying to party like a college singleton."

"How'd you... take that?" Steve finally asks.

"Went with her when I could. Surveilled from a distance when she wouldn't let me. Only took her to the ER once after a rough one, and I found out real quick that statutory didn't apply anymore. Of course she agreed she'd consented, and I was the one who looked like a fool."

"What're you doing?" a miserable voice comes from the vicinity of the living room. "Are you talking about me?"

"Shit," James mutters. He wonders if she heard him talking about last night. He hopes not, lest she think he's broken some kind of unspoken sibling confidentiality rule of which they have yet to factor Steve into as something between boyfriend and brother-in-law. “Morning, Tash,” he says, giving Steve a glare that’s clearly meant to say their previous conversation is strictly under wraps.

“Hi.” Tasha slowly gets to her feet from her couch bed, still wearing the bottom blanket as a sort of toga dress over James’s backward hoodie. She stumbles a little, and James practically runs to keep her from falling, even though he’s not completely steady himself.

“Hey,” Tasha groans, grasping James’s arm as he pulls her into a hug. “I feel gross.” She pulls away, holding her hand an inch or so in front of her mouth.

“Yeah, I’m not all sunshine and daisies myself,” James admits.

“What were you rolling on?” Tasha asks skeptically. “Tylenol?”

“Tash, be serious, please.” James wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t want to exacerbate his current headache.

“Oxy?” Tasha tries again.

“Hey,” Steve snaps, suddenly up with the program.

“Don’t worry about it,” James tells him. “My privacy really isn’t the issue here.”

“So you were finally giving in to your cravings.” Tasha touches her tongue to her upper lip.

“So maybe I was.” James does his best not to let anger creep into his voice. He goes with cold, hard honesty instead. “I actually can’t remember what the fuck I took last night. Did. Drank.” James runs his hand through his hair.

“The sink says Guinness,” Steve supplies. “And your clothes say weed.”

James nods. It’s a fair enough assessment. He’s pretty sure pills were involved as well, lest it not be his type of party. The oxy makes sense. He probably rolled a little ecstasy with it, as he thinks he recalls lying on the couch in the house for some unknown period of time before reality set back in and he had to find Tasha.

Lying on the couch. That’s what Tasha ought to be doing right now. More drugs than what piped through James have probably hit her miniscule system. The fact that shey’s up, no matter how unsteady, seems to be a feat to be reckoned with.

“And what’re you on?” James asks, though he knows he’s unlikely to get an answer. At least an honest one.

“Same as you.” Tasha shrugs. “Maybe a little more. Maybe a little less.” She nudges the not exactly empty trash bin beside the couch with her foot. There isn’t much in it substance-wise, but the yellow bile at the bottom appears to be streaked with blood.

Broken capillaries at the back of the throat aren’t necessarily uncommon, James reminds himself, but the whole scene is a little unsettling. Sort of like the fact that she’s still wearing her temporary coat-and-blanket dress, making no move toward increased modesty. It’s as if the partying of the previous night has, for both of them, brought on exhaustion and an expulsion of cold, hard honesty. Something of the type James is more likely to spill; something mature that implies she’s out-aged the fun of the previous night.

It’s weird for Tasha, acting like the miniature grown-up that James knows she isn’t. But then he thinks back to the way he found her last night, and how he’s told her story to Steve without her express permission. Guilt fills James’s stomach, and he doesn’t feel beyond vomiting again. He just hopes Steve does have the sense not to let her know what he knows.

“Do you want to go to bed?” James asks Tasha, gesturing down the hall. “I don’t know what time it is, but it seems as good a time as any to crash.”

“Hm.” Tasha looks at him skeptically.

“I’ll get you some Tylenol. Gatorade, even.”

Tasha gives him a long, hard look that turns her skepticism into something else. James can nearly swear he sees tears at the corners of her eyes, but when he blinks, they’re gone.

“Can I bunk with you?” Tasha’s obvious attempt not to look teary gives her away, but now she seems congested as fuck, wiping her nose on the sleeve of James’s jacket.

“Yeah,” James replies, pulling two bottles of sports drink from the fridge, then putting his arm around Tasha. “Of course.”

“You do too much for me,” Tasha mutters into James’s shoulder. “I know you know it.”

James shrugs. He still feels a little on the toasted side himself, and, to be honest, his little sister’s warm comfort, no matter how binged or beaten, is a positive presence in his life. He wants her to be ok. It makes him ok. If one day she decides she’s not, they’ll handle it. Together. But for now, sleep is in order.

Tasha sandwiches herself between Steve and James in their not exactly spacious bed, stealing the covers and complaining of hot and cold in cycles as the drugs work their way out of her system. She clings to James, then to Steve for a while.

“She won’t freak out if she wakes up and I’m the one with her?” Steve asks conscientiously.

“No,” James replies with purpose. “You’re nice to her, and there’s nothing to be gained by banging you.” James smiles a bit to buffer the ragged truthfulness of the words, but Steve just sighs and nods.

“She’s never had an ‘older brother’s boyfriend,’ has she?” Steve asks.

James shakes his head

“I mean, like, some non-relative to take care of her.”

James raises his brows, but Steve quickly cuts in with a “you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, one that she’s not screwing or getting drugs from, or getting drugs for… There’s a reason so many of them in gangs, you know?” James says.

“You mean,” Steve starts. “She was—“

“Let’s pretend I didn’t bring that up.” James feels warm and sweaty, and Tasha’s unconscious body lies between them, lips subtly parted and hair draped wildly across the pillow.

“Ok,” Steve nods solemnly.

“Home life was tough. College seems like it’s maybe just as bad. Could be a little worse…” James shakes his head.

“And, well, you’re both better at picking at flaws on the other one,” Steve quietly points out

“Yeah,” James sighs. “That’s… probably the truest thing I’ve heard all night.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Steve says with a grin, “But it’s definitely morning. Maybe even noon by now.”

“Fucker…” James reaches over Tasha’s sleeping form to grasp Steve’s upper arm.

Steve shrugs. “Maybe. But I do suggest getting some sleep.” He nods down to Tasha’s curled, heavy-breathing frame.

“You’re kind of full of it, aren’t you?” James smiles. “Finding ways to take care of us?”

“Well, I have to somehow. And if it’s by throwing blankets on the couch and washing puke out of the sink, I’m here for it, I guess.”

“You’re—“

“Helpful?” Steve suggests, grinning. “Kind? Loving? Necessary?”

“Sure.” James reaches carefully over Tasha to give Steve a kiss on the cheek.

“Now,” Steve says, nuzzling James’s forehead as Tasha’s hair comes up to tickle his chin, “We get our well-deserved rest.”

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #12: Boom Boom Pow

Words: ca. 3,300 Setting: mAU Lemon: lime CW: sand, alcohol, beanbags, dash of lime, language

“Do you like the stars?”

“Anna it’s fucking noon, the sun is up, it’s bright as shit. Why are you asking about stars?”

“Yo, my dude, chill. The sun is a star… right?”

Elsa rolled her eyes and turned up the radio, blasting 80’s music, but only the good songs. “I don’t know why I agree to come with you on these things.”

At this Anna laughed and danced a bit offbeat to the song that was playing. She didn’t know the lyrics, but the bass line was nice and she could vibe with that. She let the whole song play out before answering.

“Because you loooove me” She sing-songed, earning another eye roll from the driver. “You love me and we’re going to the beach and it’s going to be a good time.”

“If I didn’t love you, would it still be a good time?” Elsa asked, smirking.

As a response, Anna reached over and changed the radio. A loud, bass-heavy rap song overtook the speakers. The signer immediately spitting out questionably appropriate lyrics for the radio. Elsa’s face reddened under her large glasses and she reached to change channels so quickly that she turned it off. Enveloping the small sedan in a brief silence till Anna’s laughter filled the space.

And it went on like this the entire car ride, bits and pieces of random songs rapidly changing. Anna would allow something Elsa liked to play out entirely but when it was her turn she either skipped around or Elsa changed the station for her. The older woman apparently hated both rap and country music. The first part Anna didn’t understand and the latter, she agreed with. She was desperately trying to find a gospel station, just to see her sister’s reaction, but she found nothing but commercials.

Finally, she heard what she was looking for and turned to see Elsa’s reaction just as the other girl reached over and turned the radio off again. Anna was going to protest when she realized they were in a drive-thru.

“What can I get started for you today?” a tired-sounding voice asked over the intercom.

Anna leaned over Elsa to get closer to the open window and thus the speaker box. Making sure to be just close enough to be annoying.

“We would like to get married please, with Elvis if you have him, if not we’ll take what you have.”

“Anna!” Elsa exclaimed, slapping her on the shoulder.

There was an audible sigh come over the loudspeaker, “Ma’am this is a Wendy’s.”

“Oh right, then I’ll take a cheeseburger and a medium Coke, no ice. Thank you!”

“Anything else?” the tired voice asked. “I’ll have the same thing.”

They continued driving towards the beach after the drive-thru. Cupholders full of sodas in flimsy paper cups, and Anna’s lap full of white paper bags of greasy food. She kept sneaking a fry when she thought Elsa wasn’t looking. But it was a small car and Elsa could see every bit of fried potato Anna took.

The closer they got to the beach, the darker the sky became. Tall looming clouds crept over the horizon. They couldn’t see the beach yet as it was the east coast, and most roads took you to the beach straight on instead of winding down cliff faces like the Pacific was famous for. But still, the clouds loomed. Elsa knew there was a storm somewhere off the coast, but it seemed far away last she checked, which wasn’t today. She refused to check the weather today for fear of bad news.

On the main highway, traffic was starting to get heavy, more tourists were headed for their long-awaited vacations and the road ahead was either congested to the point of slowing down. Or there was an accident and everyone had to slow to a crawl to creep a glance at the carnage.

Thankfully the girls weren’t tourists, unthankfully they lived close to this tiny town that became a major city in the summer months. Having to deal with millions of tourists every year meant that locals had a series of short-cuts. So when traffic started building, Elsa took the next exit rather suddenly, cutting across the solid white lines and nearly missing the crash barrier.

“Elsa! Shit! What the fuck!” Anna yelled and shot out her hands with nearly inhuman speed to catch the drinks before they spilled out of their too-small cupholders. “There’s a backup, I’m not sitting in that,” Elsa replied, taking the next turn so hard that the car nearly tilted on two wheels.

“But I saw flashing lights, it could have been a firetruck!”

“It could have been a police car…”

“But Elsa you don’t understand, the hot firemen! …and women.”

“Anna I’m not sitting in traffic for 30 minutes or even longer, just for you to ogle at people in uniform.”

Anna took another fry, “Not people in uniform, F-I-R-E-M-E-N and women. It is very different.”

Elsa let out a heavy sigh as they came to a stop at a red light. “If I buy you that stupid Australian calendar will you shut up?”

“Wow, harsh.” Anna dramatically threw one braid over her shoulder. “But, yes.”

Again, Elsa rolled her eyes and continued forward when the light changed. It was only a short while later that they left the main road and turned into a small, older housing development. The narrow street lead them all the way to the ocean, coming out on the far end of the main strip. Highrise condos and hotels dotted the skyline to their left, but right in front of them was the beach, concealed behind a short sand dune. Because life is a bitch like that sometimes.

Luckily for them, there was also free parking at this end if you didn’t mind a bit of a walk. Which, for the price of 17 bucks to park next to the beach, who wouldn’t mind the walk. 17 dollars could buy many cheeseburgers, Anna pointed out.

The beach wasn’t nearly as crowded down where they were, away from the boardwalk and the hotels. The sand also happened to be rockier, rough and pitted with long-forgotten footprints and broken shells. The beach groomers didn’t come this far. Which was fine by them, they would take a rough sandy beach with fewer people over a crowded hellscape any day.

There’s nothing more relaxing than simultaneously listening to eight different speakers all playing different music. While children screamed for no reason and the air was filled with a mix of sunscreen and cigarette smoke.

So yes they will miss out on the hot lifeguards and yes there will be fewer people to watch. But you can’t put a price on the quiet and the fresh air that this section of the beach had to offer.

After crossing the highway on foot, climbing the dune, and laying out their towels, only then did they pause to look out on the water. The ocean was angry, white caps dotted the surface as far as they could see. The horizon line was blurred with fog or rain and the dark clouds from before were more ominous than ever. Why the two women didn’t notice all these signs until now was some kind of act of God. Or stupidly. Probably the latter.

The beach itself was even more sparsely populated than normal. A smart person would have gone home after seeing all the warning signs. But this was Anna’s only day off for the next few weeks. And Elsa, well Elsa was too stubborn to admit her beach idea was a bad one.

They both laid down, on separate towels, choosing to ignore the warning signs and attempting to soak up as much sun as possible before it was swallowed by the coming storm. Elsa tried not to think about it too much. Neither was sure how long it had been before they were interpreted.

“What are you two gay ass losers doing?” Came a female voice.

“Ch’yeah it’s like gonna rain bruh.” Said a male’s.

Elsa opened one eye to see her cousin and her boyfriend, or so it fiancé now? Standing over them. The sky beyond them somehow looked even darker than before, which was very rude.

“Trying to enjoy the sunshine, obviously.” She mumbled in response.

“What sun?” their cousin asked, in a weird out of place, and badly performed accent.

“Wait but what is that voice?” Anna asked, sitting up and brushing the sand off her arms. How that girl could get sand everywhere, Elsa would never know.

“It’s like our new characters,” Eugene answered, earning not an eye roll from Rapunzel but a nod of approval.

“I’m New York and he’s Los Angeles. Both strong and independent cities that you could almost say are their own character. And those characters are us.” She added

“Why though?” Elsa was also now sitting up and confused, though nowhere near as sandy because she wasn’t a dirt gremlin-like her sister.

“Because we wanted to be unique characters, otherwise we’re just boring white people and where’s the fun in that?” Eugene or rather Los Angeles answered.

“Oh boring, like you watch Star Trek and try to fit it into everything even though it has no business being there?”

Eugene shot Anna finger guns, “exactly, this one gets it… bruh.”

A boom was heard in the distance and it sent a few people running towards their cars, towels billowing behind them. A long-distance away, over the water, there was a flash and with it, the wind picked up.

“Looks like our beach day is ruined, I’m sorry Anna.” Elsa stood and began to roll up her towel. Even with the limited sun, she was already red on her front, making a stark difference to the pale skin of her back.

“Nah we just getting started, come back to our place and play some ping pong. We just pulled the table out of storage.” Rapunzel aka New York offered. The two of them didn’t live far from the beach, having taken over Rapunzel’s parent’s beach house. It was very old and run down, but the pair was fixing it up in exchange for free rent.

‘Aye New York is right, and we can take my new whip… bruh.” Los Angeles gestured over his shoulder towards the dunes. They couldn’t see it yet because that dang dune was blocking things again. But everyone knew he was referring to his new golf cart.

Reluctantly the girls agreed and a few long minutes later they were rushing inside an old house to avoid the rain that had just started to fall. Their car was left abandoned in the free parking lot.

Inside was an odd mix of old and new. Brand new stainless steel appliances dotted a kitchen with dark wood cabinets and a yellow linoleum floor. A half-torn-down wall gave way to the living room with floor-to-ceiling wood paneling and floral print furniture.

“It ain’t much but it’s home.” Los Angeles said once everyone was inside. He walked beyond the torn-down wall and slapped his hand on the wood paneling. “New York over there hates this stuff, but it’s hella soundproof if you know what I mean.” With this, he wiggled his eyebrows and finally, earned an eye roll from New York.

“How did you know we were on the beach by the way?” Elsa asked as she took a step further into the kitchen to look at the collection of magnets on the fridge.

“Your sister posted about it on her tumblr of all places. Honestly, get an Instagram like the rest of us already.” New York said throwing her hands up dramatically. The drama ran in the family apparently.

The ping pong table was in the basement, a dimly light space with concrete walls and a tiled floor. Mix-matched chairs lined the walls and a mini-fridge sat in the corner next to a shelf full of liquor bottles.

The ping pong game quickly descended into beer pong with a twist. No one had to drink from the cups the ball landed in. Because that’s gross, don’t do that. Inside if someone managed to land the ball in a cup the other team had to take half a shot of vodka. Los Angeles had wanted to do full shots but Elsa and New York talked him out of it, if only for not dying reasons.

Even so after a few games with no true stand-out winner, just a bunch of dumb luck, they were all fairly buzzed. Flushed creeks and slurred speech. Outside the storm finally hit. Rain battered the small basement windows and thunder boomed overhead.

With each thunderclap, Elsa reached for Anna’s hand and wouldn’t let go till the other girl gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Finally, everyone seemed to have enough of the game and collapsed into bean bag bars that Anna and Elsa had both not noticed before. Elsa scooted her bean bag closer to Anna’s, the other two people didn’t seem to notice. New York was hanging all over Los Angeles. Her fingers tracing the curve of his jawline down, her eyes practically boring holes into his face. He acted like he didn’t see, but it was obvious he knew.

“You guys can stay here for the night if you want since the storm sounds so bad,” Eugene said, dropping his horrible accent.

“That’s very kind, but it’s just a little rain, we’ll be alright,” Anna replied, completely forgetting their car was many blocks away.

New York stopped messing with her man and turned to them. “Anna, it’s more than a little rain. It’s a hurricane, I mean it was a tropical storm and it was supposed to miss us. But you know how it be sometimes.” She said with amazing clarity for a drunkard.

Elsa’s hand shot to Anna’s and she let out an audible gasp. She had refused to check the weather before heading out the door today, figuring what she didn’t know, can’t hurt her. Which was stupid and out of character for someone who claims to be responsible.

Another boom followed by a bright flash of lightning illuminated the room for a brief second. Elsa looked terrified so Anna took it upon herself to change the subject.

“So we will be seeing you in two weeks right?”

Rapunzel playing New York smiled and clapped her hands together, “Yes! At the church!”

“For things better left unspoken,” Eugene playing Los Angeles groaned, covering his eyes with his forearm.

Another boom and the room was suddenly cast in darkness and accompanied by an eerie quiet. You never notice how much sound your electronics make till everything is off. Elsa grabbed Anna’s entire arm, holding it so tightly Anna was worried she would lose it.

“Ah fuck the power is out. We have some candles upstairs, I’ll be right back, Rapunzel can you see if the camping lantern is over on the shelf?”

“Um excuse me, it’s New York, but yes I will look.”

Two bodies moved away in the darkness, their paths illuminated by the small light on their phones. Next to Anna, Elsa’s breathing became rapid and she clung to Anna as if she was in danger of being blown away.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” Anna whispered, using her free hand to pet the top of Elsa’s head. The older girl shifted so in one fluid motion she was off her beanbag and on Anna’s before curling into the young girl’s side.

“I found it!” Rapunzel slash New York exclaimed. She turned it on and the room was partly lit up. She walked back to where the other two women were cuddled together and sat back down in her own beanbag.

“Wow, that’s like hella gay.” She said, pointing to the pair.

“Oh shut up, she just doesn’t like storms, you know that.” Anna quipped

Elsa let go of Anna’s arm long enough to extend a hand and flip off her cousin, earning her a laugh in response.

Eugene returned shortly after with the candles, a tray of food, and some cards. “Anyone up for a game of hurricane poker? It’s like regular poker only there’s a hurricane.”

He rejoined the group, placing the tray in the middle of everyone and paying no mind to the two women who now shared a beanbag.

Elsa lifted her head to look, the tray was adorned with a random assortment of food. Celery sticks, M&M’s, KitKat bars, Cheetos, Grapes, and some animal crackers. She made a face.

“What’s wrong uh bruh?” Eugene asked in a bad attempt to get back in character. Los Angeles would never quite be the character that New York was.

“I’ll only eat celery sticks if you pay me,” Elsa responded.

The next few hours consisted of Eugene completely wiping the floor with everyone. They played for the M&M’s, of which he now owned all of. With the power still out and the storm still raging on the decision was made for the sisters to spend the night over.

Their room was completely unrenovated, the same wood paneling from the living room made up the walls and the carpet was a thick green shag rug. Eugene was right about one thing though, the paneling sure did dampen the sound. Once the door was shut the two women could hardly hear anything, which was good because Rapunzel had started blasting Mandy Moore music for some reason.

There was only one bed, pushed into the corner, but it didn’t matter anyway. There could have been 80 beds and they still would have shared just one.

Anna laid down on her back and traced the grains in the wooden wall. “Really makes you want to carve something in this stuff you know? Something that would be around for hundreds of years.”

“Please don’t vandalize our cousin’s house,” Elsa said before sitting on the edge of the bed. She turned the lantern off so the only source of the light in the room was the candle on the nightstand.

“You alright?” Anna asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

“Yeah, I’m just worried about the storm, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Anna reached out and gently grabbed Elsa’s arm, guiding her back to lay in the bed next to her. “Do you want to sleep or keep your mind off things?”

Elsa paused for a brief moment before removing her arm from Anna’s grip. “I don’t know…”

“It’s your choice, either way, I’m here for you.” Anna smiled at her, a flash of lightning lit up the room but no thunder.

It startled Elsa but she remained where she was, staring at Anna. Thinking, always thinking.

“It’s just a storm and this old house seems to be built like a tank anyway.” She made a fist and pounded the wall to prove her point.

Elsa started twirling the end of one of Anna’s braids but her eyes remained locked on Anna’s. The delayed thunderclap came and Elsa inhaled sharply. Anna leaned over and kissed the top of her forehead.

“You sure this is okay?” Elsa asked and Anna nodded, running the back of her hand down the other girl’s cheek. “Let’s get our mind off of things then.”

Elsa crawled till she was straddling Anna who gazed up at her with eyes that shown like stars in the candlelight.

“What’s your favorite constellation?”

“Hmm, probably Orion, because you can find his belt so easy,” Anna answered, “Yours?” “Your eyes”

“Ew, that’s so fucking cheesy.”

Elsa leaned down, her mouth slightly agape. Anna’s eyes fluttered shut as her hands found their way to the other woman’s shoulders.

The storm, the damage, their car, all these things could wait until tomorrow. Tonight they were out of their control so for tonight they didn’t matter.

Elsa blew out the candle, and they both plunged into the sinful escape of the darkness.

[sinningismywinning]

Do As You Please - 2

   Stepping out onto the street made you question, which vicinity burned your throat more. Inside the congested, smoke-filled bar, or being outside  next to the vomit that lined the pubs pavement. The motion of being pushed forward was enough to make your head spin. Thomas kept his hand politely on your lower back, to ensure you got through the crowd. He wasn’t necessarily man-handling you, but he didn’t treat you like fine porcelain china. Orange bulbs burned brightly outside of every building, you could almost hear the low buzz.

   You didn’t know what time it was, but you knew it must have been late, since even the homeless beggars were finally resting. Tommy stayed quiet until you were about a block away from the Garrison. He didn’t know how to approach your situation. 

   Thomas Shelby wasn’t use to walking women home, unless he were to sleep with them. “Where do you live?” His low voice cut the silence, as he removed his hand from your back.

   You had always tried your hardest to not walk home at night, especially without someone else in attendance. You were so occupied that morning with your thoughts on getting to the pub, that you never thought to consider how you’d be getting home safely. Maybe it was a good thing you had the encounter that you did.

   Tommy wasn’t much of a conversationalist, especially to those that he didn’t know. “I still haven’t caught your name,” his head turned to you. “I’m starting to think you don’t have one,” he quipped. He had been asking you questions but you were too absorbed in your thoughts. Your head was pounding, and quite frankly, walking wasn’t helping. 

   “It’s Y/N,” God your feet hurt from these heels. “I live uh..” Fuck, how much did you have to drink? You had to stop walking. The motion was getting to you. “I live near Talcum Lane.” Your sentence was slow and hesitant. 

   “Aye, you’re not lying to me are you?” He questioned, no longer walking as well. You had no reason to lie, but your behavior obviously made him think otherwise. He didn’t want to intrude and ask too many personal questions, Mainly because he didn’t care, yet, he also didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

   You felt his eyes on you, and you turned to face him. The glow of a street lamp settled on his features. You were taking into account how sharp they were. Thomas, on the other-hand, was kicking himself for not knowing what he had gotten himself into. “No, I’m not lying, I just think I had too much to drink,” Were you drunk, or was your corset too tight? It was getting a bit harder to breathe, but why would you make that known?

   His eyes didn’t leave you, and his absence of words didn’t help to comfort your thoughts. “Never seen you in Small Heath before,” now it sounded as if he was interrogating. “I would’ve remembered a face like yours.” His words carried no emotion, nor weight. Since you both had stopped walking, he paused to pull out a cigarette. 

   “I try to not go to the pubs, not safe, and I’m always at work. Never home,” you explained yourself. “Hm,” he rested a cigarette between his teeth. He dragged the end across his lower lip to moisten the filter. Seemed well-rehearsed.  Maybe you were staring too much. You turned your head to evade accidentally catching his gaze.

   “Where do you work?” He was too intrigued by you to not ask. “I work at the Tailor Shop 15 minutes West of the Garrison, nicest one in town.” it was low enough to be a mumble, but he heard you. “Tailor shop?” He huffed with a amusement. “What’s someone like you, doing at the Garrison, talking to my brother?” He said taking a drag.

   “I went for the same reasons everyone else does. Stressful day at work.” You turned back to face him. “I can understand that,” It sounded as if your response had passed for his approval. You rolled your eyes, the alcohol wearing off minute by minute.

   “Don’t worry about me being on your hands again,” you spoke starting to walk once more. Just because you felt awful about his shirt, that didn’t mean you’d let him get close enough to walk over you again. You barely knew this man, and now he’s taking you home! “Yeah? Why’s that?” He enjoyed this little game. Most women would get on their knees just from his reputation, you seemed to despise him. He liked it.

   Thomas always wanted things that most people thought could never be his. He was taking more of an incline to you as the night progressed. “Because I won’t be caught dead in a scummy pub like that again,” you said making a turn down the street.

   He finished off his smoke. He threw the bud onto the cobblestone, and crushed the ash under his shoe. He couldn’t help but let out an slick smile as he followed close behind. “What’s wrong with my bar?” his voice got dangerously deep. 

   That was a sentence you weren’t expecting, and damn did it gut you. You wanted the earth to swallow you whole. You wouldn’t have insulted the place if you knew he was the one who owned it. Now at this very moment, you didn’t know who held the most irony in their hands. Him, or you. He waited for the apology. The big ‘Oh dear, I didn’t know! Pardon me!’ Little did he know, he waited for the wrong thing. 

   “Everything’s wrong with it.” You decided to ignore your conscience. It’s not like you’d see him again after this. You were brutally honest, even when it wasn’t needed. “Your pub-hand wasn’t charging people correctly for bottles of booze. I saw him give away whiskey for 2 pence, not 5,” You said waiting for a reaction. You decided to keep going. “And another thing, when’s the last time you kicked people out for over-drinking and ill behavior? I saw at least three grown men sitting in their own vomit.” You stopped walking once again. Your mouth ran and ran. 

   Once again, that rare glimpse of a smirk made its way onto his face, but only momentarily. He put his hands into his coat pocket, fiddling with the watch that sat tucked away inside. How the hell did you understand alcohol prices? He could feel his pistol holstered beneath his coat. He opened his mouth to speak, but it took an additional second for something to come out. “Well, I kicked you out, didn’t I?” his grin fell short as he retorted back to you. It seems you’ve met your match. He nudged you on to keep walking with him.

  “Well I didn’t-” you couldn’t defend yourself. “Your brother was the one who suggested me to go home, not you.” Your eyes met with his as you tried to defend yourself. “Yeah, after you spilled liquor on me.” He gestured to the stain of his white shirt. You felt bad. You really did.

   He saw your face squint up for a moment. Your cheeks burned red. The longer the walk was, the more you were getting to know the stand-off pub owner. “I’m sorry,” it took a lot for you to say that. He just nodded in response. He wasn’t going to treat you differently.

   If you could run your mouth, he’d just show you that he was better at it. A tense silence filled between you both. “Y/N’s a beautiful name,” he broke the space. “Thank you,” your voice was soft in response. Thomas knew to not involve himself with you. You were too naive, too passionate. He wouldn’t  make you a quick-fuck either.

   His mind went on and on about putting you against the side of your own building and tasting your lips. He loved women, he really did. “Do you enjoy working as a seamstress?” He questioned. You did say you needed a drink and didn’t resort to it unless stressed. He just wanted the gap of a walking distance to be filled with words.

   You mindlessly shrugged, seeing your balcony from the upcoming street. You were close to home. “I fell in love with it, but the new owners changed that. I wanted to be a teacher at first, but things just get in the way,” you hummed. Money was what got in the way. He figured it best to not push it more.

   Though he didn’t know you for anything, the thought of you interacting with kids seemed to click. You’d teach them to not take shit from anyone, and hopefully, that mindset wouldn’t get them killed.

   A part of you wanted the walk to be longer. You found yourself growing comfortable in his silence. Was he a good listener? Or did he master the art of tuning people out? He walked you up the first steps to your home. You pursed your lips as you turned from your front door to face him. “Thank you Thomas,” you nodded with appreciation. He never got use to the formality of people calling him Thomas. He didn’t feel the need to correct you just yet. He figured there would be other times to do so, even though you intended of this being your last interaction with him.

   He looked up at the sky. Dark clouds that encased over the stars, so the night wasn’t as bright. “No need to thank me,” praise always made him feel uncomfortable.

   You found yourself looking at him for a little too long. The silence sank in between the both of you. There was a silent attraction. He felt it, and the only reason you picked up on it as well, was due to his bluntness. His head tilted back down to look at you. Your eyes glanced to his lips.

   “Goodnight, Y/N,” he spoke cordially. He took a step back, letting his eyes take you in. There was a lump in your throat. You broke the eye contact first with a small smile, and turned away from him to unlock your door. The moment you stepped inside you couldn’t help but go over the tense silence you just experienced, as you leaned on the closed door. 

   “Oi, fucks’ the matter with ya?” A voice spoke out angrily from your sofa. “Been fuckin’ stayin up worried about ya, and now is when ya decide to stroll on in? It’s four in the fucking morning Y/N!” your brother yelled standing up.

  You walked past the man and went straight to your room. “I’m not a kid anymore, don’t fucking bother with it Alfie!” you yelled back slamming your door. You’d deal with him in the morning.. 

   Alfie had many connections. Hopefully he could tell you more about the reputation of Thomas Shelby. Yet little did you know, he wasn’t notorious for the right reasons.

@captivatedbycillianmurphy​

[7nosecrinkle7]

Sorry I shouldn't have kissed you with Maggie and Alex? Also I love your maggie and alex stuff its wonderful :) A true blessing my dear

Thanks, luv! I was so happy to see a request come through. You’re the first person to ever send in a request to me. I love hearing how much you enjoy my Maggie & Alex stuff <3 I love writing them!

Okay, so I had like three different ideas for how I could cover this prompt. I’ll probably post at least one of them at a later date. It’s a reverse situation to what’s written below. I went somewhat canon with a twist with this one. It’s a play off of the iconic “kiss the girls we want to kiss” Alex/Maggie scene from 2x08.

Background: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZyQYS9i8tE 

There’s a YouTube video that covers the Sanvers scenes that I’m using. Basically Maggie getting hit by a laser, Alex stitching her up, and then the scene that I’m specifically working off of. If you want. 2:11 is where this begins.

*I have a few more requests in my inbox that I’m working on. I haven’t forgotten about any of you!*

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

You Want to Stay?

Alex was sitting at her kitchen island nursing a glass of whiskey. She sniffled for the umpteenth time that evening and rubbed at her nose. She knew she should definitely make some tea or even hot chocolate instead of drinking alcohol. Alex had been feeling run down the past few days, but the runny nose and scratchy throat seemed to kick in when she got home. 

To top it all off, Alex had been in a weird mood all evening since patching Maggie up tonight in the med bay. Her feelings had bubbled back to the surface when she'd told Maggie she came out to her mom and about being gay. As much as Alex tried to convince herself, Maggie was not an option, and she was having a hard time accepting it. Alex wasn't big on feelings to begin with, but she mostly wasn't enjoying this internal emotional mumbo jumbo. She did not enjoy feeling like a hormonal teenager.

So to say it was a taxing day for Alex would be an understatement. The second Alex had made it home today, she showered and changed into her pajamas. She was exhausted physically, emotionally, and mentally. She muffled another cough into her long sleeves. Alex had picked this pajama shirt specifically because it could stretch over her palms and hands. It was her comfort shirt.

Alex took another sip of her whiskey and put the glass down. She was debating if she had the energy to make tea when a knock disrupted her thoughts. Alex quietly slid off her stool and walked to the door. She wasn't expecting anyone, so she pulled her gun out of the drawer and looked through the peephole.

Maggie's dimpled smile greeted her, and Alex relaxed. She slid the gun back into its place and quietly muffled a cough as she opened the door.

Maggie entered with her pack of beer and box of pizza, setting them down on the counter. 

Alex put on a face of excitement in a poor attempt to pretend she felt fine as she asked about a potential new murder case. Before she knew it, Maggie was pacing and saying the most adorable and heart-pounding speech about how they should kiss the girls they want to kiss… Alex's brain was already foggy from feeling unwell, so it took her a moment to wrap her head around where Maggie's speech was going.

And then soft lips were greeting her own in a kiss.

Alex's mind went blank as she brought her hands up to cup Maggie's face. She got lost in the moment and deepened the kiss. Her lips were as amazing as she remembered, and yet it still surprised her. Alex gently pulled back with a dorky, hazy smile.

"So you're -- saying you like me?" Her voice cracked partway through as she asked Maggie to confirm what she was understanding. 

Maggie gave her an affirmative nod and chuckled before Alex pulled her in for another kiss. 

And then Alex's mind finally caught up to the mental cloud she was on.

"Sorry I shouldn't have kissed you," Alex said abruptly and leaned back. She pressed the back of her hand to her lips.

Maggie froze and blinked at Alex, "Oh… Sorry."

Alex's eyes got big really quick, "no, no, no, no, no, no! Not like that. I--" She cut off and shook her head. Alex brought her elbow up to cover her face quickly. She ducked to the side and sneezed twice. 

Hih-- uh-- hiihEShew!.. Etsschhew! *snnnf*

Alex sniffled thickly and shook her head. *snnff* "I'm sick. I wanted to kiss you, I liked kissing you. I LIKE kissing you. I don't want you to get sick."

Maggie smiled, looking relieved. She gave an airy chuckle and tilted her head. "I can work with that."

She made her way around the counter. "Why don't I put the beer in your fridge for another night and make you some tea?" Maggie suggested.

Alex sneezed twice again.

Hhii-Hiiesheeww... Hiih-Hihesheeww!..

"I'll take that as a yes. Now go sit that cute butt of yours down on the sofa there and pick something out for us to watch."

"You want to stay? I mean, I want you to stay, but you're okay with that?" Alex wondered aloud. 

"Of course I do, Alex. A few little germs aren't gonna scare me off," Maggie said with a dimpled smile. That look already made Alex weak in the knees.

"Although," Maggie started saying but cut herself off, "Nah, never mind."

"No, what was it?" Alex asked. She sat on the sofa facing the kitchen and pulled a blanket over her legs.

"Well, I was going to say maybe making out was off the table to play it safe, but that ship kinda sailed…" Maggie said as she filled the kettle with water. 

Alex chuckled and ended up coughing rather harshly into her elbow.

"As much as I like that sentiment, and I really do like the idea, I'm not feeling up to it right now." Alex laid her head against the back of the sofa. She sighed, "it just hit me like a ton of bricks." She sniffled again.

"Cuddles it is," Maggie nodded. She busied herself, grabbing mugs. She debated which tea to make for each of them while Alex flipped through Netflix. 

Alex's cough rattled through the apartment as she got settled.

"Jeez, Danvers. You didn't sound like this a few hours ago." Maggie responded after the coughing calmed down.

"I kndow," *snnf* Alex sniffled a few times. The congestion was starting to get to her. *snfff* "It kinda hit when I got home. I didn't feel like this a few hours ago, just a little tired." 

Maggie hummed from the kitchen as Alex went back to looking through Netflix. She wasn't thrilled by her options, so she mustered the energy to get up and go through her DVDs. The best ones were at Kara's place, but she still kept a second copy of her go-to movie.

She pulled the disk out and put it in as the kettle whistled. 

Maggie poured the water and carefully carried the hot mugs to the sofa. 

"Here you go, Danvers," Maggie said, handing the mug to Alex. She placed her own mug on the table's coaster.

"Now, where are your tissues, and what medicine do you want?" 

Alex sniffled and rubbed at her nose. "Um, tissues are next to my bed and whatever decongestant I have in the bathroom cabinet, please." 

“Thank you,” Alex said. She blew lightly across the top and took a sip of her tea. She quietly moaned; it felt amazing on her throat. Maggie had put just the right amount of honey in it, too.

Maggie heard the moan and laughed, “you’re welcome. I’m glad you like it so much.” She padded off to get the tissues first, depositing them on the table, and then went to the bathroom. Alex could hear her shuffling through the cabinet's contents and hoped she had at least something still in there.

"Danvers, these expired two years ago," Maggie said, exiting the bathroom with the box of decongestants. "I also found an empty pack of Nyquil and an empty bottle of Advil."

Alex wasn't listening, though; her nose required her immediate attention.

Hih--uh… Huh’shhuuew… HuhUSSHew..!

Alex snuffled and reached for the box of tissues on the table.

"Bless you," Maggie said, brows furrowed and a frown forming.

Alex blew her nose, "ugh, thank you." She sighed stuffily. She was really counting on having something at the very least.

"That settles it then, give me eight minutes to run to the corner store and back," Maggie said, reaching for her jacket and keys. 

"Nooo," Alex whined quietly, "I'll be fine. I'll have Kara bring me stuff tomorrow. I'll manage for tonight."

Maggie paused, "only if you're sure, Danvers. You sound beyond exhausted, and we both know medicine will help."

"I'm definitely sure," Alex nodded. She patted the sofa, silently trying to get Maggie to join her.

Maggie nodded and put her jacket back. She took a seat right next to Alex, "so did you pick a movie?"

"Yes, but don't laugh," Alex said. She pulled up the menu screen of the movie. "I went with The Goonies. I put it on every time I need a comfort movie." 

Alex hit play, and they got settled in. Alex coughed and laughed her way through the truffle shuffle, and was nearly asleep two scenes later when she sneezed again. 

Heh--hETSSHhew!

Alex groaned and flopped her head on the back of the sofa. She sniffled and squeezed her eyes shut before she leaned the other way and sneezed loudly. 

Hihhh uhh HIHEtSsshHEW!

"C' mere," Maggie gestured towards herself. Alex didn't even question it before lying down on her side against Maggie. She sniffled several times, rubbing at her nose with her sleeve-covered hand.

One of Maggie's hands ran softly in circles over Alex's back underneath the blanket. She could feel Alex starting to relax into her. Maggie's other hand gently scratched at her scalp. 

A content, yet stuffy, sigh came from Alex as she completely relaxed. The agent must've been beyond exhausted because she was asleep in under two minutes. Maggie placed a light kiss to the crown of Alex's head and settled in to watch the movie as Alex slept in her arms.

[likemereckless]

tag game! get to know me

tagged by: my dear wonderful friend @jandjsalmon

1. what is the color of your hairbrush? Pink. It’s a curly detangler brush.

2. a food you will never eat? I won’t eat ANYTHING from the ocean because it creeps me out... or mushrooms. Or anything slimy. I don’t like textures.

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? I’m always cold. The hubs makes fun of me constantly for all my layers.

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? I’m working on a project for a Fellowship I’m doing and downing coffee.

5. what’s your favourite candy bar? York Peppermints. Anything chocolate and mint makes me so happy.

6. have you ever been to a professional sports game? Yes- I’ve been to Yankee games, Giants games (football), and Devils games.

7. what is the last thing you said out loud?  “Don’t put that tiara on the dog.”

8. what is your favourite ice cream? Store- Mint Chip. Local Place- Red Devil

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? COFFEE!

10. do you like your wallet? I’ve never thought about it. I’m not particularly attached?

11. what is the last thing you ate? Eggs over medium and toast.

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? I haven’t bought clothes since last fall. 

13. what’s the last sporting event you watched? Yankee game.

14. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? I’ve never had flavored popcorn. I like butter? lol.

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? Husband. We are exchanging memes.

16. ever been camping? Yes. I had a blast! I went with college friends and we made a bonfire and went rafting and it was a wonderful time.

17. do you take vitamins? I don’t. I should because I’m always found with low iron, but I hate vitamins so meh....

18. do you regularly attend a place of worship? I used to moreso than now. My mother still does. I’m having come current issues with this in the US and something personal. I’d be happy to explain over DM but not here.

19. do you have a tan? I am basically transparent. I don’t think I can tan.

20. do you prefer Chinese or pizza?  We have AMAZING pizza here in Jersey so pizza all the way.

21. do you drink your soda through a straw? I don’t really drink soda unless there’s a party. So I guess no.

22. what color socks do you usually wear? I love socks. I have every color, rainbow, neon patterned, polka dot, mickey mouse....

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? I don’t because there are too many fricken cars in my congested area.

24. what terrifies you? Airplanes and the ocean.

25. look to your left, what do you see? 15 TY beanie babies lined up on my loveseat that I’m supposed to “feed”

26. what chore do you hate most? Laundry. Folding the laundry is evil.

27. what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? If I hear one around here I think, “Why on earth would you leave Australia for Jersey- the oil and petrochemical refinery state.”

28. what’s your favorite soda? If I have soda I’ll go for rootbeer

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? I prefer the drive thru.

30. what’s your favourite number? 10

31. who’s the last person you talked to? My daughter. She’s 3.

32. favorite meat? Mmmm steak.

33. last song you listened to? Want You Bad- The Offspring

34. last book you read? September Love- Lang Leav I had preordered it a long time ago and it arrived a week early to my happy surprise!

35. favorite day of the week? Friday because the promise of the weekend is looming

36. can you say the alphabet backwards? yes. so can my tiny human. we sing it for fun.

37. how do you like your coffee? In my veins. I ship whole beans from this fantastic shop. I keep 6 kinds in my kitchen at all times. I have a cold brew french press for ices and if I’m doing hot I’ll have my first cup with a splash of milk and after that, black. Hmmm this coffee issue is probably why I had an ulcer.

38. favorite pair of shoes? My husband got e a pair of tieks since I travel and stand so much for work. Very comfy.

39. time you normally get up? 6:00

40. which do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Depends on the circumstance. Sunrise when we watched from a mountain in Hawaii. Sunset when I’m watching at a dinner.

41. how many blankets are on your bed? Too many.

42. describe your kitchen plates? I’d call them fiesta. They have funky squiggles and lines and patterns in vibrant colors. Picture a crazy donkey pinata.

43. describe your kitchen at the moment: Gray stone floor, white cabinets, a sunset orangey color paint.

44. do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? Jameson or Fat Tire allagash white

45. do you play cards? Not really. I used to.

46. what color is your car? White

47. can you change a tire? nope. lol.

48. your favorite state or province? I’ve been to 25 of our 50 states and can find something I loved about each. I loved them all for such different reasons so it’s hard to choose.

49. favorite job you’ve had? Hmmm I liked when I worked for the journalism lab.

Tagging: @lizzy92rc @cheryllclayton @velvetsugarbabexo @earthlaughsinflowersblog @lucivar @stonerbughead @adrumlynjump

[jadekitty777]

Sick Leave

Whoops. I did it again. (I played with your heart. Got lost in this Fair Game).

Rating: K+

Pairing: Clover/Qrow

Words: 3,000

Summary: When Qrow fails to show up for work one morning, Clover goes to investigate why and finds himself taking care of a more personal mission.

Ao3 Link: Sick Leave

“Alright, first up: the west wall in Mantle is showing signs of weakening. Who wants Grimm patrol duty on that? We need a team of two.” Clover called.

“Oh! Me, me, me!” As usual, Ruby was the first to bounce in her seat, swinging her arm around. Despite the many long weeks of duty, her enthusiasm hadn’t ebbed at all.

“I’ll go with her.” Jaune offered next, sipping on his coffee.

He nodded, turning back to the board and assigning their names to the job. “Next up is another haul of dust to Amity. Team of five.” He glanced back, about to volunteer himself and Qrow.

And realized the man’s seat was empty. It wasn’t entirely unusual; the older huntsman sometimes slept in and trudged in halfway through. He instead assigned Nora, Ren, Weiss, Harriet and Marrow as they volunteered. He tasked out the most pressing three search and destroy missions to Penny, Yang and Blake, and Elm and Vine.

Checked the seat once again – still empty. “Has anyone seen Qrow?”

“Maybe his alarm didn’t go off?” Nora offered.

The missing man’s nieces shared a glance, before the younger pulled out her scroll and said, “I’ll call him.” A moment later, she placed it to her ear, only to frown. “It’s going straight to voicemail.”

Yang frowned, before rolling her eyes. “Well. He got to three months at least.” When her little sister glared her way, she added, “What? You know that’s what he did.”

“You don’t know that! Maybe he broke his phone.”

“Yeah, when he dropped it in his drink at the bar.”

“Alright, that’s enough ladies.” Clover intervened before this could become a full-blown family dispute. “I’ll go check on him. The rest of you start your missions. That’s an order.”

No one rose argument, the room clearing out quickly. Ruby was the only one to hang back, looking at him. “Will you message me? Just so I can know if he’s okay?”

It was most obvious in her eyes how young of a huntress she was. So openly concerned and honest – something an enemy would eventually take advantage of. He’d have to teach her the finer points of a poker face somewhere down the line. “Of course, but I wouldn’t worry too much.”

She nodded, doing her best to smile before she followed after Jaune.

Clover headed out the opposite way, back towards the housing area, unable to get the sisters’ argument out of his head. He had remembered what Qrow had said last week, about having given up drinking. At the time, he hadn’t thought anything of it. But it seemed the other man had stretched the truth a bit – he wasn’t a former alcoholic, but a recovering one.

That… complicated things.

At least now he understood the root of Lieutenant Winter’s disdain for the seasoned huntsman. He had used to believe it was jealousy that made her sneer whenever Qrow’s name was uttered. After all, what trainee didn’t hear at least a few stories of the infamous STRQ who both held the record as the only team to win the Vytal Festival Championship Two bi-annual seasons in a row and still held the record for most completed field missions while still in school of all the Kingdoms’ academies? He certainly had, and had used those stories as a personal benchmark to overcome – he’d even been excessively proud when he and his team managed to quickly subdue Qrow when the man had first entered Atlas (though he’d never tell him that). Now he had to wonder if the only reason he’d won that fight that day was because Qrow was in the throes of withdrawal and not at the top of his game.

However, the more prominent question was, if the girls were indeed right and the other Huntsman has gone back to drinking, what could he do about it?

It didn’t take long to get to Qrow’s floor. One elevator ride and one left turn down the hall and he was at his door, giving it three hard raps.

When a minute passed without response, he repeated the action, harder and louder. “Qrow, it’s me!”

Nothing.

Clover frowned, suspicion shifting to worry. Even if he had gotten completely smashed last night, he wouldn’t be unresponsive. Something was wrong.

He pulled out his scroll, and though it was a bit unethical to use his high security access this way, he reasoned it away that he was just making sure the other was okay. He pulled up the mainframe for the dormitory doors and disengaged the lock, hearing it click. He pulled it open, stepping inside. It was standard issue, with a small kitchenette and living space and a short hallway that lead to the bed and bathroom. There were signs of it being lived in. A pair of dressed shoes haphazardly strewn under the coffee table. A half-full glass of water by the sink. A hand towel hanging over the edge of the counter. Bags of nonperishable foods left atop the mini-fridge.

But no Qrow.

Knowing there was only one place he could be, he headed down the hall, knocking on the bedroom door. “Qrow, you in there? It’s Clover.”

This, finally, yielded an answer. A somewhat unintelligible “Hold on!”, and then some shuffling, before the door was opening a few inches. Watery red eyes squinted out at him. “What?” He croaked, voice raspier than usual.

“You missed mission assigning and – you look awful.” He looked him over, taking in his overly gaunt and pale complexion and the blanket he’d draped over his shoulders. Felt relieved when he realized this had to be a natural sickness. Though rare for Huntsman, cold shock wasn’t an uncommon issue foreigners faced when traveling to Atlas, especially those daring to venture out into the tundra. The new environment combined with the brutal temperatures chipped away at even the strongest immune systems, often leading to some rather unpleasant sicknesses.

“Feel it too.” Qrow used the side of the door to prop himself. “Can I go back to bed now?”

“Of course.” He replied.

The other just nodded, not even bothering to shut the door as he trudged back to his bed and cocooned himself into the comforter.

Though it felt a little taboo, Clover invited himself in, walking over to his bedside. “Do you need anything? Medicine? Water?”

“Sleep.” He grumbled.

He gave a long-suffering sigh. Qrow was stubborn even in the best of situations; he couldn’t say he was surprised to learn he was an uncooperative ass when sick. But two could play it that game.

He reached out, placing his fingertips on the other’s forehead.

“Whachu doing, go ‘way!” Qrow whined, burying his face further into the blankets and out of Clover’s reach.

It was fine though, he got what he needed. “You’re burning up.”

“What a revelation. Who woulda thought the ill guy would have a fever?” His snark earned him a coughing fit.

Clover decided not to respond to it. “Have you taken anything?”

“Painkillers.”

“When?”

“Last night. Can you go away now?”

“Anything for the cough?” An annoyed groan was his only answer. “That’s a no. Alright then.”

He turned, heading for the bathroom. No protests came, Qrow either too sick or too tired to do so. As luck would have it, the bottle of medicine he was hoping to find was right on the counter and next to another half-full glass of water (seemed someone had a bad habit). He dumped what was left of the water, refilled it and shook out two pills, before returning to the other room.

Red-eyes glared up at him, but Qrow looked so miserable it made him appear more like an upset puppy than a true threat. “If I drink that will you finally leave?”

“Yes.” Clover promised.

He unearthed himself from the blankets, took the proffered medicine and then handed the glass back before curling back up into his nest.

“Good night.” He offered him, getting only a hum in return. He left the water by Qrow’s bedside in case he needed it, before he walked out and shut the door.

Then shut the second door as he left the suite. As he head down the hall, he mentally ticked off what he had back at his place that he could bring back here. After all, he’d promised he’d leave – he just never said for how long. Qrow would need something for that congestion of his, maybe the cough just in case, and some tea and soup would do wonders too.

Midway through his list, he remembered his other promise, and pulled out his scroll.

Not hungover. Just sick. He typed out.

Ruby’s reply was almost immediate. Oh no! Is he going to be okay? Should I come back?

Clover smiled. He really hoped Qrow knew what a great niece he had. He’ll be fine, but I’m putting us on sick leave for a few days.

The next text came rather slow for the speedster. ‘Us?’

He’ll have a speedier recovery with me around. Good luck and all. He wrote back. Never mind it wasn’t true – his semblance didn’t have that much pull with fate.

Oh, I guess that makes sense! Let him know I’ll come see him after work.

He guaranteed he would, before switching over to the Huntsman Missions app to update his and Qrow’s statuses. He knew the general would question it as soon as he saw it. Hopefully Clover could make the argument that Qrow was just too important an asset to leave unattended. In his weakened state, he wouldn’t be able to fight off any of Salem’s forces, so a ward to watch over him was the optimal option.

Yeah, that… sounded convincing, right?

~

As it turned out, it did sound convincing. In a ‘I totally know what you are doing but won’t give you a hard time because you’re one of my best operatives’ kind of way.

As Clover stirred the warming soup in the pot, General Ironwood’s sly canter as he said, “Qrow sure is fortunate to have such a loyal co-worker” continued to ring in his ears. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised his boss had picked up on it; he hadn’t exactly been subtle with his flirting. What baffled him was his complacency. He’d gotten on the case of far younger and less reserved cadets for similar behavior, so why was he getting a pass?

Perhaps it was not the nature of the relationship, but the person involved? Was it because the general’s view of Qrow being a good friend made him more willing to look the other way?

“It’s boiling over.”

He jumped out of his thoughts, glancing at where Qrow was standing, still holding the blanket around himself like a lifeline, then down at the pot which was indeed on the verge of overflowing. He flipped off the burner and removed it off the heat. “Thanks.”

The other man eyed him. “You stayed.”

He wanted to say ‘Of course I stayed. I like you, you oblivious Dodo!’ but he wasn’t exactly ready for that amount of honesty yet. Knowing how insecure Qrow was, he doubted he was ready either. So instead, he said, “Just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.”

Whether it was the medicine, the extra sleep or both, he seemed much less ornery as he said, “Thanks. Not used to people taking care of me.”

That was a tidbit of information that screamed ‘tread carefully’. “No one at all?”

“Wouldn’t say that. My sister and I looked out for each other, once upon a time. And Tai and Summer were mother hens; that got annoying real fast.” He rubbed his eyes as if the reminder was giving him a headache. “But where I grew up it was a ‘in it for yourself’ mentality.”

There was a lot to unpack from that statement, and one Clover was not willing to press on today, much less when Qrow was ill. Instead he poured half the soup in a bowl and announced, “Well, guess you can add me to the list. And, you know what they say, three is common. Four is lucky.”

“That was the most poorly executed clover joke I’ve ever heard.”

“It was truly clever; you’re just too sick-minded to know it.” He ascertained. “Now take a seat and eat your soup.”

“Yes sir.” Qrow gave a mock salute, before plopping down into one of the chairs at the small dining table where the soup, a spoon, more water and three different types of medicine was set before him. He eyed them, mumbling, “You running a pharmacy?”

“Legally, no. I’ve got a table at the black market though.”

At least that joke awarded him a small laugh.

~

Qrow ate at a pace that would have driven Harriet insane, but he managed to finish the bowl, though he declined seconds. Clover set the rest of the soup away for later and cleaned up the dishes, all the while watching as the other man shuffled the few feet to the couch to curl up on it as he watched some old program. He didn’t recognize it, and it was old enough it wasn’t in color, but from the rather rambunctious laugh track, it had to be a comedy.

When he came over to set a mug of steaming tea down on the table, he finally got a chance to ask. “What is this?”

“You’ve never seen Lady in Red?” Qrow craned his head back to look at him. “What era are you from?”

“I’m only seven years younger than you.” He refuted.

“And yet you missed a classic.” He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Maybe you’re not so lucky after all.”

He chuckled at that. “Do you need anything else right now?”

“No. But I have a feeling if I tell you that you can go, you’ll just come check on me in a few hours, won’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

He sighed, overly-exasperatedly by a nonexistent dilemma. “Then I guess you might as well stick around. Get some culture while you’re at it.” He shifted his legs, freeing up the last cushion on the couch.

Clover was not such a fool that he wouldn’t accept that offer.

That was how he spent his afternoon, binge-watching an old show and running commentary with the man beside him. It was a peculiar change of pace. He wasn’t used to such lazy days – but spending it with someone made it infinitely better. Granted, Qrow drifted off somewhere between episodes 5 and 6. (Clover would tell no one about the many times he snuck glances at him as he slept or how he found the man’s light snoring endearing.)

Thankfully, the program was entertaining enough to enjoy even in the silence. So much so that, before he knew it, the sun had fallen and Qrow was stirred back awake by a knock on the door as an actual lady in red came to visit.

~

The next few days went similarly. Clover would wake up early to scan over progress reports and assign missions to the teams, before heading off to make breakfast for Qrow and sit in and watch old reruns all morning with him. They tended to start off quiet, but as the meds kicked in, the elder showed signs of more energy and alertness. It waned sometime after their small break for lunch and then it was back on the couch for more. Ultimately, he tended to drift off, sometimes until evening when his nieces came to visit and play a few rounds of video games while Clover would make dinner for all of them.

Yang was also intent on invading her uncle’s bed space with a new stuffed animal every night. Clover imagined it was meant to mildly annoy him – but considering he caught Qrow making the llama tap dance with the gorilla one morning, he didn’t think it was working.

The whole affair felt so unusually domestic. The way he figured most of the citizens of Atlas and Mantle lived; but not a huntsman like himself.

And though he knew it couldn’t last, for just a little while, he allowed himself to enjoy the rare coziness and warmth of it all.

~

Qrow’s fever finally broke by day four.

Clover left his status on sick leave, but changed his own back to active.

~

“A nest of Grimm are collecting back in the sewers. Which two-” Clover read off dully.

“Me!” Ruby sang as expected.

“I would be thrilled to accompany her.” Penny chipped in.

He nodded tapping them in. His eyes scanned the next one, yet another dust supply run. He withheld a sigh. He never thought coming back to work would be so difficult. “Next up, we’ve got another transport going to Amity.”

“Sign us up.”

That voice had him snapping out of his stupor. He looked up, seeing Qrow lumbering in.

“Sure you’re up for that?” Yang asked.

He waved her off. “I got it. Can’t be letting you brats do all the work.” He glanced his way. “Well? Any objections?”

Suddenly, hours spent driving through the endless tundra didn’t sound so boring. “None at all.”

He changed Qrow’s status and put down their names. The rest of the missions were assigned quickly and the teams broke off with their respective partners to get ready for the day ahead.

As everyone filed out, Clover joined his own teammate’s side. “I know the runs are usually pretty unexciting, but you really sure you can handle things if it turns south?”

“Pff, oh yeah. I’m pretty much back to 100%. That’s not why I chose that mission though.” He told him.

“Oh?”

“See, the Lady in Red’s two-part season finale airs at 6 tonight.” Qrow’s expression was utterly unashamed. “That’s the only mission that I’m guaranteed to get back on time.”

He snorted. “That’s awful.”

A shrug. “Well hey, if you bring some popcorn over, you’re welcome to watch it with me.”

For the first time that morning, Clover felt his energy flood back in, his usual smile pulling back at the edges of his mouth. Perhaps he’d just taken a medicine of a different kind. But the side effect was it made him do possibly foolish things as he responded with, “It’s a date.”

It must have been the luckiest day of his life, because Qrow smiled back.

[jennifersylvesters]

not so subtle - part eleven

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x reader Word Count: 4 k~ Warning: swearing A/N: surprise, bitch. i bet you’d thought you’d seen the last of me. happy osterfield october! cheers to that and cheers to it apparently being a mcfrickin’ year since i posted the bullet points for “not so subtle” and conned y’all into reading. feedback is always appreciated ~

You should’ve gone after him. You should’ve flung yourself into his arms. You should’ve kissed him the way he kissed you. You should’ve told him something, anything. 

You should’ve gone to the Bahamas and told him how you felt. You should’ve laid it all on the line, telling him how no one could hold a candle to the light he ignited. How could they when Harrison orbited your thoughts?

You should’ve done a grand romantic gesture. You should’ve serenaded him in front of thousands of people. Okay, maybe bring the number to double digits. No way you’d perform with that many people around. You should’ve set up a room with an exorbitant amount of candles before confessing your feelings. You should’ve shown him how much you cared, how much he meant. 

But you didn’t. And maybe that was the problem.

Instead you stood drenched in the rain wondering what all of it meant. You replayed the scene over and over, so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed hours pass by. 

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that you found yourself sick, completely congested and downright miserable. The mountain of used tissues seemed to grow along with your headache. No way in hell you could fly when you could barely make it to the bathroom without a dizzy spell. 

“I can’t do it, Ems” you whimpered on the phone before letting coughing violently. Goodbye lung one. “I’m literally dying here.”

“You’re seriously not going to come with us?” You knew how much Emma had been looking forward to this trip, and your sickness had thrown a wrench in her plans. Despite trying to suppress her irritation, you heard it laced in her tone. You would’ve done anything for your best friend, but there was no way in hell you were going to the Bahamas.

“Emma, I can’t” you groaned as you blew your nose loudly. 

“We were looking forward to this-” 

Someone cut Emma off, filling your ear with muffled noise. In the background you heard her toss around the words “sick”, “cancel” and “true love”. You weren’t sure what to make of that.

Emma returned to the line, clearing her throat before stating briskly “Fine. Tom said he hopes you feel better.” You mumbled a thanks, grateful he managed to convince your best friend to drop the matter. “I still think you should go, but he says this might make it worse.” 

“I’m really sorry, Ems” you apologized. “You know I wanna go. I just don’t wanna throw up on the plane and ruin everyone’s vacation.” 

“Hey. I know you do” her voice softened slightly. “Get better soon, okay?” 

With a final cough and a “have fun”, you hung up and collapsed back to bed.

Rather than enjoying sunny island fun, Kimberly insisted you road trip with her and Sarah down to her cabin. You could recover better with people watching over you instead of cooped up in the apartment. Off to grandmother’s house Kimberly’s cabin we go. 

The drive consisted of you in the back seat attempting to sweat out your fever while the other two sang along to the radio. Let the girlfriends have their fun while you died in the back seat. 

When you arrived at Kimberly’s cabin, her mother smothered you with love and medicine. She doted on you as if you were her own, making sure that you immediately went to bed and only called you when it was time to eat. 

By the time you recovered, only a couple days of spring break were left. You wanted to make the most of it though you weren’t much for outdoor activities. It didn’t help that this vacation was clearly meant to be alone time for Sarah and Kimberly. There they were, enjoying one another’s company while you third wheeled. They insisted they didn’t mind but you knew better. 

Thank god for Kimberly’s brother, Ryan. He was a good, friendly distraction from the couple. The two of you could hang out separately without imposing on your friends. You enjoyed how he marveled over you knowing actual celebrities. No need to include details of you fainting from merely being in the presence of some. 

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if you went to the Bahamas. Would you be soaking up the sun? Running around the beach? Maybe even posting cheesy tourist photos? Perhaps you’d be kissing someone special under the starry sky, interlacing your fingers together as you agreed this was your sacred place - the place where you admitted your love. 

Haha. Huge sike. 

That, of course, was purely imagination. Instead your reality consisted of getting over colds and exploring nature. The only evidence of your fun was a singular photo posted on Instagram. Kimberly snapped a picture of you groaning next to a laughing Ryan whose arm slung tightly around your waist. You didn’t bother adding a caption; no way you wanted to explain how moments prior he caught you before you nearly plunged off the side of a trail. 

You wondered if Harrison would comment. He never did.

In fact, he never messaged you at all. He went completely silent on social media. No Instagram stories. No Twitter updates. No Snapchat stories. Nothing. 

“You know you could text him, right? It might make you feel better” Kimberly advised. 

Easier said than done. Every day you contemplated sending a text. Every day you made up an excuse. It was simple to chalk it up to being too busy than finding the guts to message him. 

Still you knew your roommate was right. She always was. Stupidly smart Kimberly. 

On your last day of spring break, you paced the floor before clicking through your contacts. You stared at the contact name “Lil Shit 💩”. Why was a poop emoji making you so nervous? Why couldn’t you just suck it up and say something? Why the hell was this so difficult? 

Just fucking text him already. 

Slowly you typed out a message. It wasn’t much but you assumed it would at least get a response. 

Y/N: Hey - how’s the Bahamas?

Your finger shakily hovered over the send icon. Send it. Just press the damn button. 

What was the worst that could happen? He could hit you up with that “new number who’s this”. He could tell you to fuck off. He could call you the wrong name. 

Finally you clicked send, heart pounding. 

You watched the message change from “message sent” to “message delivered”. It was nice to know he got phone coverage in the Bahamas.

Sarah called your name, distracting you from this mild obsession.You grabbed your belongings, heading downstairs. As the three of you loaded into the car, you noticed that the status had changed. He read the message. Well, that’s good. At least he got your text. 

A couple days passed and still no response. 

“Maybe he was busy?” Kimberly suggested. “Just send him another text.” 

Taking her advice, you shot off another text. 

Y/N: So are you back in the UK? 

And then there it was.

He left you on read. Again. 

Oh. So this was the worst option. 

Being ridiculed by Harrison was annoying but being ignored by Harrison was pure torture. 

It didn’t matter how many premieres Emma invited you to. You could attend all the after parties or party at every kick back. He wasn’t there. You wouldn’t have cared if you knew he was preoccupied with work, but he was actively avoiding you. And that fucking sucked.

When had things changed? When had arguing with Harrison become one of your favorite pastimes? When did you realize just how important he had become to you?

Spring classes resumed. Exams followed. You went through the motions, wondering what you two would be doing if he actually visited. Probably arguing. Potentially kissing. Of course he wasn’t there to prove any of your theories so you were left speculating the ‘what-ifs’. 

For months he ignored you. He had to break eventually, right? With summer vacation approaching, you assumed he’d finally talk. Say something damn it. 

You expected him at the Fourth of July party. Emma threw it every year at her parents’ house, gussying up the place with sparklers and birthday decorations. She insisted they could celebrate America’s independence as well as Harrison’s birthday. No one noted the irony of celebrating a Brit’s birthday on this specific holiday. 

Harrison always came, laughing about how his birthday should’ve been the national holiday. Your typical retort was telling him to stop being salty about America’s freedom. The two of you bantered about everything, from the consistency of the fireworks to what present you got him. (“I got you the gift of not kicking your ass.” “Lovely.”)

He never showed that day. 

All the Holland boys showed up, greeting you with hugs and huge smiles. No Harrison. 

Who was celebrating Harrison’s birthday with him? Was he alone or partying with other friends? Was there anyone there to make him a cake and wish him a happy birthday? You wanted to know but couldn’t find the courage to ask. 

Instead you pretended to have fun. You stuffed your mouth with food and sipped alcohol freely. You laughed at jokes and danced energetically. No way you missed Harrison’s painfully terrible hot dog jokes. Of course you didn’t mind that he wasn’t there to make dumb bets about how long the fireworks would last. 

It was just another party without him. Maybe that’s why this party wasn’t as fun as it should’ve been. 

With a nice buzz from drinking, you scrolled to his name in your contacts. “Just message him. Tell him how much he’s missing out” your brain encouraged. None of your friends were around to consult your poor decisions. The inebriation gave you an excuse to shoot off a text. 

Y/N: Enjoying the taste of freedom here in the good ol’ USA. 

That sounded like a good text. Right? 

“Send him a photo to prove you’re having a good time” the alcohol spurred your judgment. It sounded so good, so right. Of course he needed photographic proof you were having fun. 

Grabbing one of the small display flags, you rushed over to Harry Holland reclining in one of the plastic lawn chairs. He yelped as you yanked him back by his shirt slurring “Let’s take a photo to send to Harrison.” 

“Send it to Haz?” he asked incredulously before a sly smirk appeared on his face. “You finally ready to admit that you caught fe-”

“Shut up, Harry. Just take a photo with me” you snapped, refusing to let him finish that sentence. Even drunk you didn’t like where that sentence was going. 

Harry simply laughed, grabbing your phone to take the selfie. You flashed your teeth to the camera waving the small flag madly. You were so caught up in your actions that you didn’t notice Harry leaning in, catching you off guard as he planted a kiss on your cheek. 

The alcohol delayed your reaction, shoving him only once the flash went off. “What the hell was that?” Seriously, though. What the hell was that?

Harry snickered, tossing the phone in your lap. There in your messages, the photo had been sent to Harrison. What in the star spangled fuckery? 

“You’re welcome” he smirked, patting your shoulder. 

“I didn’t say thank you!” you shouted after him.

You sat in the chair, staring at the screen. The message changed to ‘read’ and you groaned throwing your head back. Of course he saw. He just never replied.

Except three moving dots appeared on the screen. You scrambled, sitting up straight. This was different. For a minute they just moved around before disappearing. Only a second later did they reappear. “Just say something already” you grumbled, the anticipation killing you.

Finally the dots disappeared for good. You groaned again, burying your face in your hands. You got your hopes up for nothing. 

“Piss off, Haz.” Your head swiveled to see Harry chuckling on the phone. Play it cool. Play it casual. Tipping backwards in the chair, you tried to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Just talk to her. Or go back to bed. Oh, and happy birthday, div” Harry hung up. As he looked up from his phone, the two of you made eye contact. 

“You’re welcome, Y/N.”

“I didn’t say thank you” you mumbled. Minutes passed before you realized he wasn’t going to text back. Still, you couldn’t resist one more try. 

Y/N: happy birthday, harrison. 

The moving dots appeared again and your heart lurched. Say something. Say something, Harrison. Even if he just told you to shut up, you wanted a response. Any response. 

The dots disappeared and never resurfaced. 

Just like that, you spent the holiday mulling over your thoughts as fireworks burst brightly into the night sky. 

As summer dwindled to an end, you spent the rest of your break in the UK. Emma guided you around, visiting both the touristy destinations and her favorite secluded places. Still, you couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room. 

Tom had been actively avoiding you as well. He made excuses why he couldn’t tag along when he loved playing third wheel to your friendship. 

Something was definitely amiss. It wasn’t something you could easily discuss seeing as every time you approached him, he made up excuses to leave. “I gotta take this call.” Alright? “Forgot I have an appointment.” Sure? “Tessa’s pooping.” Fuck off with that nonsense. 

You loved Tom like an annoying brother which was why his odd nature pissed you off. 

“What’s your deal, Holland?” you finally snapped. A small group of you hung out in his flat where he avoided being closer than four feet from you. Pretty impressive even if his apartment was fairly spacious. 

“Deal? What deal?” he asked feigning innocence. Yeah, right. Try your acting chops on another sucker, buddy.

“Tom, what’s going on?” 

His eyes shifted around, focusing on anything that wasn’t you. 

“No idea what you mean. Oh, you hear that? Think Tessa’s calling for me.” He stood as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Tessa’s fine, Tom. Sit down.” He immediately sat down. “You’re avoiding me. Well, you and Harrison. But we’re focusing on you right now.” 

“I’m not avoiding you. I’m right here.” Still no eye contact. 

“Tom, you’re not even looking at me” you griped. “You’re totally avoiding me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” 

You were on the cusp of strangling your best friend’s boyfriend when Harry piped up from the kitchen. 

“Tom’s just being sour” he stated nonchalantly, fixing him and his twin brother a cup of tea.

“About what? I haven’t even done anything!” Sure, you could be an idiot but you hadn’t antagonized Tom in a while. Well, not that you could think of. This whole situation was an exasperating mess.

“I’m not being sour!” Tom interjected. 

“It’s ‘bout that new man you’ve got.” Harry hummed, ignoring his brother. Sam snickered, grabbing tea from one of the cabinets.

“What man?” you and Emma both questioned in unison. While you were utterly confused - since when did you have game for a man? - Emma looked stunned. 

“You have a man?” she mouthed to which you shook your head vigorously. 

“That man on your Instagram” Sam answered as Harry shuffled around the kitchen. 

You might’ve been impressed how both of them simply ignored their older brother’s glare if you weren’t so preoccupied trying to figure out what Sam meant. 

You pulled out your phone, scanning your Instagram profile. Looking at the first photo, you let out a snort. “Definitely not dating Sebastian Stan.”

“Oh, did you post that photo for a throwback?” Emma clapped her hands together excitedly. “You look so good! You’d never believe you’d been sobbing a couple minutes before that was taken.”

“Nah. Not that one. The guy from the woodsy photo” Harry steered the conversation back on course much to Tom’s dismay. 

“Who? Ryan?” 

“Oh, is that his name? I didn’t know” Tom remarked, acting completely surprised.

Harry choked on his tea before sputtering out a laugh. “Like you and Haz haven’t been trying to dig up dirt on the bloke” he wiped his mouth, grinning at an embarrassed Tom.

“You’ve been digging up dirt on Ryan?” you inquired, baffled that they would do that. 

“Ryan is Kimberly’s brother” Emma explained. 

“You’re dating Kimberly’s brother?” Tom’s eyebrows lifted in shock. 

“Wait, Kimberly has a brother?” 

“Which one is Kimberly again?” 

“Her flat mate.” 

“She the one who dressed up as a vagina on Halloween?” 

“Think so.”

Ignoring the younger brothers, you answered Tom’s question. “I’m not dating Ryan. Who told you that?” 

Tom went quiet, only sheepishly looking at the ground. Suddenly everything clicked. 

This fucking div. 

“Tom” you started slowly. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” Silence. “Is it because you thought I was dating Ryan?” 

“No!” he shook his head like a scolded child. “It’s just…” he trailed off, still avoiding eye contact. 

“Spit it out, Holland.” 

“Okay...So maybe I thought you were dating Ryan. I just...I didn’t wanna make Harrison feel bad if I talked to you after all you guys have been through. But I didn’t know how to talk to you either. It’s not like I could talk to you about your new boyfriend.”

He corrected himself as he saw your glare. “I mean, your not your new boyfriend. I just didn’t want to take sides or anything.” 

Harry shared a wry smile with you before you both shook your heads in disbelief. 

“Oh, babe.” Emma placed her hand on Tom’s knee. The two of them exchanged soft smiles before she said “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve probably ever done. And you’ve broken your nose multiple times.”

His face turned red as Harry and Sam roared with laughter. 

“It’s not even about taking sides. We all know you’d choose Harrison; he’s your best friend. But you could’ve just asked what was going on instead of assuming things” she explained. “Now I’m gonna get a cup of tea while you sort this out with Y/N.” She kissed him on his forehead before joining the twins in the kitchen. 

Tom finally looked at you properly cracking a weak smile. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have...I should’ve just asked.” 

You laughed, accepting his apology. How could you not? It was Tom. The two of you exchanged a brief hug before you stood up and announced you were heading out. 

“No! Stay!” Tom insisted. “Let me fix things properly.” 

You weren’t sure what that meant, but you explained you needed to pack. Eventually with Emma’s help Tom relented.You gave him another hug before leaving his place.

Humming to yourself, you felt better knowing that you cleared up that miscommunication. If only things could be that simple. You pushed open the apartment door to a crisp breeze and turned before stopping in your tracks. 

Almost four months later and there he was. 

He blinked, clear recognition in those beautiful eyes. It was clear neither of you expected to run into one another. As you cautiously approached, he tensed up though stood firmly in place. 

Now only a couple feet away, you took a proper look at him. Had he gotten more handsome? Was that even possible? His hair was longer, messier but suited him well. His hands jammed into his pockets as he kept his eyes on you. Even with the tight expression, it was comforting finally seeing him. Finally being around him. It had been so long, and you missed this. Missed him. 

“I miss you.” Of all that was holy- Did you really just say that out loud? The words slipped out of your mouth carelessly. 

His eyes widened at your confession. Those were the first words since that rainy day. It felt strong, maybe too much. But those words rang true to how you felt. You couldn’t keep it in any longer. 

“I…” you paused, wishing you could’ve composed your thoughts better. But the moment was here, and the time was now. “I just...haven’t seen you around. I didn’t realize how much I missed you till you weren’t there. It was like all I could think about was if I was ever gonna see you again, y’know?” 

Seeing him take the slightest step forward, you summoned up a bit more courage to continue. 

“I like being around you, Harrison. I like arguing even though you drive me crazy. And Jesus Christ do you drive me fucking insane. And it’s crazy to think that you’re one of my favorite people even though you’re a pain in my ass.” 

The corner of his lips twitched, fighting the urge to smile. “But I like that you’re there for me. And that you don’t make fun of my crying. And that you’re so sweet.” 

You began choking up. Oh, God! Why the hell were you doing that? 

You wanted to stop - let him process all of this - but kept going. “And I get why girls like you because your flirting is just so...It’s you and it’s charming. It’s so damn charming that all I want is your attention.” His gaze shifted downwards, staring at the pavement. No, you didn’t want that. You wanted his focus on you. Please look up. Look up.

“And I love it when you call me love.” He glanced up at as your eyes swelled up with tears. Keep looking at me. No one else but me. 

Harrison stared as you dry swallowed, rubbing the tears away. “I really do. I don’t think you even realize what that does to me. And I wish...I just wish you said it in more than a friends way.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever thought about like that.” HIs eyes darkened at that, the softness quickly disappearing as he completely stiffened up.  

“Sorry I’m late!” A pretty brunette bounced up to Harrison’s side smiling widely. 

Neither of you spoke as she continued smiling, now with a quizzical expression. “Hello, I’m Jessica” she introduced herself as she held out her hand. You shook it, muttering a polite greeting before pulling away. 

That was when Harrison’s arm went around her protectively. He pulled her closer as she wrapped her arm around his back. He kissed her cheek causing her to let out a bright laugh. 

Oh. 

A weight crushed in your chest as you forced a smile. Of course Harrison would have someone. He hadn’t waited around for you to get your shit together. You missed out on the only chance he’d given. You’d been foolish to forget that others wanted him who wouldn’t hesitate for their opportunity. The weight sunk deeper the longer you looked at the couple. 

Noting the discomforting silence, Jessica eyed you both. “Should I just meet you up there, Haz?” she asked politely. Of course she called him by that nickname. Of course she had that privilege. 

“No, we’ve basically wrapped up.” 

“Guess up to Tommy’s place then” she nudged him in the ribs playfully. 

“‘Course, love.” Oh. 

So that was Harrison’s answer to your feelings. So this was how heartbreak felt. You nearly shattered into a million pieces as he smiled at her and squeezed her shoulder softly. Tears pricked the back of your eyes once again. Hold it in. Just for a little longer hold it in. You couldn’t bear the thought of crying in front of Harrison. 

“It was nice meeting you” Jessica smiled before taking your hand and squeezing it gently. 

“Y’too” you croaked out, reminding yourself to breath. In, out. In, out. In, get the fuck out. 

You pushed past them, rushing away from Tom’s apartment. A couple blocks later you stopped and took a deep breath. Leaning forward, you placed your hands on your thighs as the mental picture of the happy couple flashed in your mind. They looked good together. Of course they did. 

So there was the truth. Harrison Osterfield was completely and utterly over you. And you weren’t sure you would ever get over the ocean eyed boy who completely owned your heart.

tags list: @sleepybesson, @sophiatomlinson23, @supernatural-girl97, @tomhaz | @alt-ernativewonderland, @bbk8lin (not sure if you wanted to me to tag you?), @blackstarryroses, @bringmethehorizonandpizza, @butithasntkilledyouyet, @chims-kookies, @choke-me-sweet-pea, @deleteidentity, @divosterfields, @highladyjel, @hollandhearts, @jessiq31, @kateelyse96, @kayla-m1996, @lovelytrashure, @otheenglishsetters, @sarcasticvodka, @soccerstud004, @spider-mendes, @thefallenbibliophilequote, @valkyriesqueen101, @wolvesofthewinter