#also... if my calculations are right this is gonna air during FINALS WEEK for me. oh god.

[yardsards]

yall i am not fucking ready for the nightmare chapter to make it into the anime

[hestzhyen]

Character Investment Advisory Update: End of the Rakuzaichi Arc

Hi void, it's time for lobotomy during the break week. Thank you as always for letting me yap into your gentle, ambivalent ear.

TL;DR: re-read chapters 18, 40, and 44 to be reminded of the set up for the next arc. Invest in Kamunabi characters; Kyoura performed better than expected, opinion changed for Soya. Questions remain about the worthiness of investing in certain types of Azami, Shiba, and Hakuri stock.

Post is quite long due to images and section spacing but individual character blurbs are pretty short (compared to the walls of text I usually post at least (´。＿。｀)).

OG Post - speculation and predictions made as of Ch. 39 (not required or recommended, honestly). Updated status under the cut.

Kunishige: safe (major) | UNCHANGED

Everyone's favorite dead DILF is only getting more and more relevant as time goes on, as expected. Expect a sharp increase in backstory and extra context as Chihiro joins the Kamunabi to learn more about him and the Magatsumi. Invest moderately and pray for disaster trio flashbacks of him, Shiba, and Azami doing some of the dumbest shit possible. At the same time, prepare for more emotional gut-punches because Chihiro's probably going to learn some very unpleasant truths.

Chihiro: safe (major) | UNCHANGED

My boy continues to astound and amaze every week. He's the MC -meaning we're stuck with him no matter what- so thank god he's so refreshing. A stoic critical thinker who adapts and takes calculated risks is a breath of fresh air. I've been reading WSJ series for a long time and while I love me my Ichigos, Dekus, Itadoris, and so on it's great to see something new. Might make a useless long rant about all the reasons why some day, who knows. Anyway I love him to pieces and will keep investing heavily. I trust whatever plan he's got brewing, no matter how half-baked it is as long as it involves keeping Hakuri by his side.

Is this the arc where he gets punished for winging things and trying to make a miracle, I wonder? All of the hope in the narrative is tied to Chihiro succeeding... if he errs it falters, possibly even dies if he screws up badly enough. We're riding high after the end of the Rakuzaichi arc and things will probably work out for the best this time as well, if I had to make a blind guess. But I'm ready and waiting to have my heart crushed into a fine paste too. Invest moderately in a complete success scenario.

Shiba: safe (major) | UNCHANGED

Look at him! We finally see him doing something onscreen and he's being a responsible, kindhearted adult! Still got a lot of mysteries around the exact nature of his sorcery ability but they can wait honestly. I'm way more interested in seeing these insights into his character little by little. Getting pretty strong "regretful adult trying to do right by the kids" vibes from him through the end of this arc and I'm here for them. War criminal or not, I trust you with these traumatized children Mr. Shiba; you're not perfect but you're doing your best. Maybe consider investing in hair dye stocks as well now that he's got two traumatized orphans with self-sacrificing tendencies to look after.

The big question on my mind right now is if he'll join back up with the Kamunabi or not. He could do it for Chihiro's sake I think, but he seems to be much, much happier acting as a free agent. There could also be some bad blood between him and the org that we don't know about yet. The next few chapters will give us a clear idea of what his role will be, so wait to see if Offscreen Sorcery stocks are still a safe investment or not.

To address the baby elephant in the room: yeah, Shiba can die. It's a revenge story and if John Hishaku thinks Chihiro's too soft then guess who's first up to be offed? That's right, the mentor/adoptive uncle figure. But I'm not gonna put stock into that right now. If we see Shiba training Hakuri to take over for him "just in case" followed by a backstory dump that leads into him reminiscing over his regrets then get a little worried. But he's fine for now.

Hishaku Sorcerer: risky (minor) | UNCHANGED

Still waiting for him to show up as more than an ominous scenery detail. He's probably going to be a mid-boss at best for Team Goldfish to put down in epic fashion, but don't discount his potential to dredge up trauma for Chihiro.

Hinao: safe (minor) | UNCHANGED

Still only going to be there for plot convenience and some downtime moments, but at least she's not at risk of dying or being totally written out. Low risk low reward. Hope she's charging a competitive babysitter's rate with hazard pay included.

Char: safe (minor) | UNCHANGED

Nothing bad is ever allowed to happen to her again, so for Char to remain safe in a series like this, the less time she spends on-screen during fights the better. She probably won't have much plot involvement going forward but at least we can count on her for some comic relief and heartfelt moments. Another low risk, low reward investment.

Sojo: inadvisable (minor) | UNCHANGED

He's dead as fuck but invest if you want to, I'm not your dad.

Oni Mask Sorcerer: inadvisable (minor) | UNCHANGED

His few remaining fans are eagerly awaiting him to appear after nearly 20 chapters of absence, but most readers don't expect to see him again. I will acknowledge his potential as a recurring background character or a secret boss but I won't bet on it. Not a lot anyway.

Azami: safe (minor) | VALUATION INCREASE

Azami's another one that's been absent for nearly 20 chapters now but it's a good time to invest. He's going to be a key player in the upcoming arc, I can feel it in my bones. Azami will most likely be our primary window into the politicking going on in the upper echelons of the organization while Chihiro deals with the rank and file directly. And if we get into Kunishige's backstory, he'll be involved there as well since he's an old friend, same as Shiba. I'm really looking forward for the story to dig into the difference in ethos between him and Shiba; why he stayed while the other was glad to leave.

The most interesting investment opportunity will be in the Traitor stocks- some folks are convinced that he must be the one who tipped off the Hishaku to get Kunishige murdered, but I'm not so sure about that. Hedge bets carefully around this one.

Ikuto: safe (minor) | VALUATION INCREASE

RIP these guys, jobbed too soon. Ikuto is alive at least and can show up. I won't speculate on the specifics of how or when he'll appear but it's fine to invest a little into his well-being. Because losing the lower half of his body is probably the worst thing that will happen to him for the rest of the story. Right?

Kazane: safe (minor) | VALUATION INCREASE

Alright! It's gonna be his time to shine! If Kazane gets the Hakuri treatment, investing in him will yield great emotional enrichment. I can't wait to see him clash with Chihiro to build up the payoff we've been waiting for since he ratted out Chihiro's existence to the Kamunabi. He'll probably play second fiddle to Hiyuki for extended parts, but he will still come back for more development or I'm seven toads in a trench coat.

As to the suffering stonks, while it's unknown if he's been through worse than Hakuri, pain isn't a competition in the first place. He's the one who can best relate to Chihiro's particular brand of trauma between the two of them though. So I'm excited to see a lot of him bouncing off of Chihiro and growing as a result. Even better if he can bounce off of Hakuri too.

There's some Kazane slander going on (in good fun) calling him the next Potential Man to compared to Hakuri's Potential Fulfilled status, but I believe in him. Chihiro's gonna save him too. Invest!

Kamunabi HQ Roundtable: safe (minor) | VALUATION UPGRADE

These guys are going to have different evaluations individually but as a group, they are a safe investment. They will be Doing Things and moving the plot above Chihiro's level while our protagonist tries to use them for his own ends. Some are sympathetic, some are neutral, and some are hostile to him. Very potent brew of personal and professional interests clashing here. Invest if you are a fan of faction politics and corrupt government arcs. (Me, this setup is made for me, and I am putting my whole being into this arc and the maneuvering these guys will be doing while also dealing with the Hishaku and Chihiro.)

Individuals will be evaluated once the arc proper is underway but I'm betting that these three will be the safest investments in terms of entertainment value and screen time:

They seem like the biggest fish in the org. Especially Mr. Beard and Mr. Prince Nez as we've had quite a few shots of them during the Meanwhile, at the Kamunabi HQ segments.

Current Wielders: safe (minor) | NEW

I didn't expect to get to the Kamunabi this quickly so I left them off the list last time. All five of these guys are under the Kamunabi's protection so we're bound to meet them, though Chihiro might not get to see Magatsumi's wielder until later on since he's imprisoned like some kind of malevolent spirit. Once we meet them it'll be easier to give them individual ratings but much like the HQ brass, they're safe to invest in as a group. They seem like an eclectic bunch personality-wise so I'm excited to meet and get to know them.

Hiyuki: safe (major) | UNCHANGED

Her, her, her!!! Lots of Hiyuki on the horizon! Invest freely! I think she'll be the focused Guest Character of this arc like Hakuri was for the Rakuzaichi. Seeing her be moved by Chihiro at the climax of the previous arc really makes me excited for what's next. Her backstory, her reasons for working with the Kamunabi, everything.

She's brash and outspoken but we haven't seen much of her actual thought process yet... what's going on in that gorgeous spaghetti-filled head of hers? Where is she on the sliding scale of friend<-->enemy? Will we get to see Spinal Column? I don't care if it's just as a practice match, I want Hiyuki/Tafuku vs. Chihiro/Hakuri round 2... ah, there's so much I'm excited for. Please don't step on me but do tell me what your deal is. And bicker more with Chihiro; the mid-battle storehouse bit was one of the best interactions he's had with another character so far.

Hakuri: safe (minor) | VALUATION UP

My blorbo! I'm so glad he's staying with Team Goldfish. Hakuri is safe to invest in... with an abundance of caution when it comes to his future prospects as a recurring character.

Hakuri doesn't need further development as a character, sadly, so I'm interested in how he'll be used going forward. It's safe to invest in him as a permanent ally of Chihiro's much like Shiba, Char, and Hinao but I would advise waiting to see what he's set up to do in the next arc before going all-in on his growth. If he's Chihiro's buddy at the Kamunabi HQ then by all means, go wild. But if he's going to be hanging back at the cafe then grab that liquor and down the whole bottle (responsibly). There's no in-between in my opinion; he's either genuinely a color-coded deuteragonist that will keep growing with Chihiro, or he's a Guest Star to be checked in on when he's useful for his abilities. I wish I could just relax and accept whatever comes but I don't have an anxiety disorder for nothing, y'know. So it goes for our favorites with late introductions and few significant ties to the larger narrative.

For now, Hakuri is safe and has the potential to find happiness. I hope he does it at Chihiro's side but I will try to spare myself from disappointment. Invest cautiously for now if you care about him continuing to be developed. And please pat me on the head for not writing a deep analysis on his character arc from start to finish (I'll probably do it anyway, but I really want a headpat).

Tafuku: safe (minor) | UNCHANGED

Wherever Hiyuki is, Tafuku will follow. He's a cool dude and I'm looking forward to seeing more of him. Tafuku is doing a stellar job of being the blue oni for Hiyuki and there's no sign of that changing anytime soon.

Please carry grumpy, tired Chihiro like a kid again I beg of you! Do it to Hiyuki too! And a bratty Kazane! Free piggyback rides for all the problem children!

Kyoura: inadvisable (minor) | VALUATION INCREASED

What a legend of an antagonist. I totally missed the mark by underestimating him in the original post. He's deader than dead (and hopefully rotting in hell) but man, he was absolutely incredible at the very end. It's too late to reap the benefits of investing in him but if dead abusive dads are your thing, go for it. He's not going to have presence in the story any more save to perhaps bother Chihiro and Hakuri in flashbacks, but hey, invest if you don't mind incurring a loss due to his overwhelming superiority as an arc villain.

Tenri: inadvisable (minor) | UNCHANGED

He's donezo but pour one out for this poor kid who never got a chance to live a normal life. Dead at about 16 years old because of his father's shortsightedness and shitty parenting techniques. Don't invest but do mourn who he could have been.

Soya: inadvisable (minor) | VALUATION DECREASED

Stay dead you fucking bastard. In hindsight, my original post wasn't harsh enough on you. I don't care if the wiki lists your status as "unknown"- you're dead to me. I will only accept you coming back via flashbacks to expand on Hakuri's backstory. Thank you for helping endear me to Hakuri but no one needs your "love" any more.

I don't think Soya will be back. At least I fucking hope not. He was in bad shape before Hakuri pressurized his guts, he was acknowledged as dead by Chihiro and Kyoura didn't deny it, and the framing in Ch. 43 leans super duper hard in to the "this guy is dead like his little bro" interpretation. And on top of all that a fucking building collapsed on him.

I hate the "twist" of villains surviving improbable odds... "But we didn't see the body! He didn't explode into giblets and a fine red mist! Someone could have whisked him out with a teleport ability and helped him him recuperate! Revival from beyond the grave with magic!" shouldn't be valid coping mantras, but they are thanks to cheap shock tactics in way too many works. Ugh. Anyway. Don't invest in this guy unless you like dead abusive brocons who only incur massive Ls.

Ice Lady: inadvisable (minor) | VALUATION UPGRADE

Another dead person who still has quite a large impact despite being six feet under.

She's probably going to continue showing up in Hakuri's memories as his motivation to keep saving people. I wouldn't expect to see as much of her now that we're probably done with the lion's share of Hakuri's development into a savior, but it also wouldn't be a surprise if he kept thinking back to her. He's going to be out there trying to prove to her that there's hope outside the cage. Rest in peace.

Mr. Inazuma (Yuu): inadvisable (minor) | UNCHANGED

Go home and live a happy life with your big sister, kid. May nothing bad ever happen to you guys again. But feel free to drop by the cafe to hang out with Char.

John Hishaku: safe (major) | UNCHANGED

The man continues to let his plans simmer and I am sitting here at the dinner table, napkin tucked and utensils in hand, wondering what the fuck is up with him. He's got a lot of work cut out for him to be as iconic as Kyoura or even Sojo but I have no doubts that he'll deliver. Being able to break Chihiro's stoicism without lifting a finger is pretty damn OP! Invest to fund his machinations, whatever they are.

Thank you as always, dear void. I hope your favorites get a ton of screen time and development in this arc or a later one! We'll survive the break weak together, Bachibros.

[kunimikat]

How they act after you break up with them.

(I made sure to check but there might be small grammar errors, and this is a long one so strap in 🙇, but hope you enjoy angst+fluff here) but not me actually feeling bad for them after-

Is more out of it then usual.

The reason you broke up with him is because you felt like it wasn’t a real relationship. And more like you sometimes got to talk during class, and sometimes out of school.

He writes in his a separate notebook of ways he could’ve done better

Starts comparing himself to other guys more often

Leaves earlier then everyone else to got to dorms.

Mumbles even more then usual, and sometimes the only person that can snap him out of it is Aizawa.

Sometimes takes it out on his friends

“Hey Deku!-“

“Not right now Uraraka.”

“Oi, Deku nerd, the-“

“Can you not right now Kacchan?”

“HAAH?-“

“Midoryia! Would you like to study?”

“Maybe later Iida...”

Todoroki offered him soba but it resulted in Midoriya slowly slurping up soba as he looked into the void of people

He shut everyone one out and didn’t talk barely most of the week.

He’d take out a lot of his anger during training.

It somehow finally clicks into place how bad you feel and how much you miss him when All Might pull you aside and asks. “Uhhh...Is Young Midoriya ok? I’m getting real worried....ITS NOT LIKE I DONT WORRY ABOUT MY OTHER STUDENTS HAHAHA! HOW’S-

There’s 15 minutes of your life awkwardly telling All Might how all your classmates are doing.

Which made you want to jump off the top of UA at the moment.

You decide to head to his dorm and ask him about it, cause you feel like it’s your fault.

You walk in on him crying, clutching the shirt you bought for him on his birthday.

You almost dropped to your knees in guilt at the sight

You rushed over and sat by him, comforting him, though it wasn’t much as you started crying too.

Basically a crying festival for an hour.

“Please....Please Y/N I love you so much, I promise I’ll make it work, and I’ll do my best to make it up to you, just please...PLEASE don’t leave me.” You kiss him on the lips and then his hand, “Babe it’s not all on you, I promise I’ll do better this time too, I’m so sorry for being selfish, I love you, ok?” Another crying fest.

After you start dating again:

Always makes sure you’re comfortable, and checks into your dorm before he starts a study session.

Helps you with your work before his. ( Though you insist he doesn’t as he’s gotten points off multiple times for turning in his work late.)

Goes on dates every time you have some free space in your schedules. Somehow ends up in an All Might merch shop 80% of the time.

!!CUDDLE SESSIONS AFTER HERO TRAINING AT ALL TIMES!! Even in Recovery Girl’s office, though many times she bops you both on the head and tells you to get out.

(If you both like All Might) You both geek out over new All Might stuff, and his old interviews while wearing an All Might onesies.

(If you like a different hero) You could spend hours bickering on who’s best hero, pulling up recordings and articles on the. With you holding your favorite hero plushie and him wearing All Might pajamas.

And waking up early just to take a long route to school together.

Makes sure to say ‘I love you’ at every small moment, and compliments you, though he can’t take compliments himself-

If it’s a permanent breakup:

“I...I understand, but why?”

Tears well up in his eyes and he for once he keeps eye contact with you, without looking away

It takes everything in you to not breakdown

“I’m sorry Izuku, I just don’t think it’ll work out in the end.” He grabs your hand and holds it both of his. He puts it to his forehead, nearly on his knees at this point. You try not to cry with him, but you knew it wasn’t going to end up a happily ever after in the end. And you wanted to break it off before that could happen.

“Izuku, I know, I know, I’m so sorry, I wish it couldn’t end like this-“

“Then don’t let it. Please Y/N don’t let this end.”

You eyes welled up as you put a hand over your mouth while repeating ‘I’m sorry, so sorry Izuku’. You looked away from him as you slipped your hand out of his, you close your eyes painfully, the tears finally running down your face. You couldn’t help but look back one more time, and almost wanted to run to where he was and take it all back. He sat on his knees, his head in his hands as painful sobs wracked his body. You quickly leave the room, shutting the door behind you.

You both were pretty quiet and emotionless the whole week.

Midoriya was even worse then before,

It got to the point where sometimes he didn’t eat or sleep

He barely responded to anything anyone said

Hell, even Bakugo was worried at some point

Midoriya would always go back to his dorm and cuddle with the gifts you gave him while you were dating.

It took a long time for him to get over it, and even when he thought it did, he still gets emotional over it

Even after highschool it pains him to see your off doing your own thing without you at his side the whole time

Quieter then usual

Is so deep in thought, sometimes forgets he’s in class or what he’s doing

During tests, or while working on assignments he’d be so deep in thought he didn’t realize he broke his pencil, or used his quirk on his desk

Instead of having his usual outburst on people he’d just walk off, or click his tounge and walk off

Even during Hero Lessons he’d be less calculated, and not as pumped up

When anyone tried to ask he’d just say “Fuck off, I’m fine.”

His grades slightly dropped

He had bags under his eyes, and had even worse posture then usual

When it came time to leave, he’d be the first one out, and no one could find out where he’d go

A permanent frown was on his face at all times (basically him most of time but with a deeper frown)

No one knew what to do at this point

It didn’t click with you until one day during Hero Lessons

He was sparring with Kirishima and all of a sudden he fainted

Everyone was surprised to say the most

You rushed with Kirishima to Recover Girls office

You both almost busted the door off it’s hinges

She wacked you both on the head but quickly tended to Bakugo, surprising you both as she checked on him

“Oh....I wouldn’t have expected this from Bakugo.” You and Kirishima had confused looks on your faces. “Well he passed out from exhaustion, which I usually see with that foolish Midoriya boy. This one usually keeps up with himself, something must’ve happened.” She cut herself off as she saw the look on your face that said it all. She beckons Kirishima to follow her out, as he still wasn’t getting what was happening.

You finally got a good look at him, and saw just how exhausted he looked. The bags under his eyes, his bruised body, and how pained he looked in his sleep. You hugged the non-bruised part of his arm, and finally let the tears you held let go. “I’m sorry Katsuki...I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” Before you realized he woke up, he placed his free hand on your head, rubbing small and soothing circles on your head. “S’okay, let’s make this work.” You knew you didn’t have to say anything else as you both stayed like that until Recovery Girl came in to kick you both out.

After you start dating again:

Comes to your dorm everyday to get you up knowing you’d oversleep if he didn’t (also wants to see your sleeping face...not in a weird way)

Cooks you breakfast in bed on off days,

You guys cook something together when you have a movie night

Instead of yelling most times, he just makes sure he understands your side of everything before jumping to conclusions

Makes sure he isn’t too rough with you verbally (lol not sure physically)

Brings you to his parents house during some free time since you get along with his mom and dad well

Won’t admit it but adores the fact that his parents love you

Whispers ‘I love you’ when he’s made sure your ‘sleeping’ (you’re not, you just wanna hear him say it all shy like)

You guys go on training dates, where you both train together, then have a picnic where you just trained

Him being more open with PDA, like holding your hand, or laying his head on your shoulder, etc. just small stuff

He loves playing with your hair and twisting it around his fingers while cuddling or studying

You both cheer on your favorite hero during a fight on TV, or you pick a random channel on TV and you just listen to him rant how stupid something is while you lean onto his shoulder at 2am (somehow got him to stay up this late)

If it’s a permanent breakup:

“No...no...you can’t, you can’t be serious”

He sounded so broken. His fists clutched so hard you thought his bones would pop out

Anger was evident in his face, and he honestly scared you with the face he was making

“Y/N....are you joking?” You frown and step back a little, did he really think everything you said was a joke? “No Bakugo, I just think this isnt gonna work out in the end.” You heard him click his tongue, then just look at you in shock, then anger. He looked down, his bangs covering his expression. “So you’re just gonna end it like that? No working anything out, just break up? It was one fucking mistake Y/N.”

“Yeah one big mistake, you don’t suck faces with some other person on accident, Bakugo.” The venom in your voice slicing through the tension filled air. “Can you just fucking forgive me? I won’t do it again.”

“You said that last time, Katsuki, then you go and clown off again-“

Before you could get anything else out Bakugo already had his quirk going in one hand, and the other holding your shoulder down. You both looked surprised, even as he backed away. “No..nononono fuck Y/N baby I’m sorry-” you smacked the hand that reached out for you. You started packing everything, Bakugo’s eyes widened as he just stood in shock. Before he knew it you were leaving already.

“N...NO NO Y/N PLEASE, I’M SORRY-“ he grabbed you by the arm that reached for the door knob. You quickly shrugged him out of his grasp, and opened the door. “Goodbye Bakugo, I hope well for the next person with you.” And you slammed it in his face. He stood there, it’s like the emotions he felt before were completely wiped when you slammed the door on him. It was 8:03pm, he should start getting ready for bed anyway.

For a few weeks he was unresponsive, and only talked when he needed to

His movements were sluggish and he’d often stare at nothing

Bakugo didn’t even glare, or really do anything when Midoriya tried talking him

Or shittyhair, dunce face, raccoon eyes, or soy sauce face

They were all the same, and just molded into one voice every time someone tried talking to him

After a while he got over it, but he still regrets what he did

You helped him through so much yet he went off and did stupid shit

Even after highschool, he’d still keep up on you frequently through social media

Basically stalking you on there, guessing he never truly got over it once he felt tears subconsciously stream down his face as he saw you with someone else, happier.

He felt like he didn’t do anything wrong, and he was confused at the throb in his heart every time you looked away from him or ignored him.

So he did ask you, and all you did was look at him like he just hit you.

Why did you look so hurt?

Todoroki shrugged it off, thinking you’d come back like you did after every fight you guys had

But you didn’t, and that’s what took an actual toll on him

More emotional

A permanent frown on his pretty features most of the time

All he mostly eats is soba

He didn’t know how to handle this in all honesty

Sometimes he’d just stare at you, and even when you looked back he’d just stare...

Sometimes he’s so out of it he doesn’t realize he’s either froze the entire classroom or was a living breathing radiator, or both (rip Momo, Satou, and Tokoyami)

He’d ask Midoryia for help but it came out as a fumbled mess most of the time:

“Midoryia...how do you hurt....them, a lot...without...? Can you help?

Midoryia is just like:

(Sorry I had to add that in I was cackling sm from it)

“I think you should just talk to them Todoroki.”

That was harder to do then he expected, you mangaged to avoid him pretty well,

One day he was just fed up and as soon as the bell rang he took your hand and left the class

He takes you to an empty classroom, his left side nearly giving you frostbite

You were about to yell at him before you saw his broken expression

“What...what did I do for it to be like this?” You we’re now quiet as you saw the confused and hurt expression on his face. Him barely being able to control either of his quirks, he was shaking, yet still held a confused expression. It just clicked with you, Todoroki wasn’t used to the sudden emotions or feelings, and when one of the people he’d usually go to to talk about it wasn’t there, he started to crumble.

You hugged him tightly , not caring if his quirks messed up your uniform. “I’m sorry Y/N....I’m sorry I’m not enough, but-“ You cover his mouth as tears fell from your eyes and onto the ground or his uniform. “I- I-I’m so sorry Todo...it’s just you never gave me affection and I was being so selfish and petty about it, I just- I didn’t realize that you went through your own experience for it to turn out like this. It’s not your fault, and I love you the way you are Shoto.” Todoroki didn’t even notice the tears come down his face as you kissed him over and over again. A small ‘I’m sorry’ from you every time. His quirks calmed down and now you were holding each other in a random classroom. You’re heart nearly stopped as you looked up at him and saw a small, teary eyed smile.

After you start Dating again:

Todoroki was much more observant

He’d stay up late readings articles saying “How to understand emotions” or “Is there other good food then Cold Soba” wait-

Regularly gets you gifts, even though most of the time you make him return the stuff since he’s been getting so much with his dads card

Endeavor ended up yelling at you both in a 7/11 while you were stuffing your faces with a soba flavored chips

You both figured out a way to get Todoroki to express himself without words

He’d slightly activate his left side if he wanted any sort of attention, and his right side was if he was feeling stressed or upset

He subconsciously goes to your dorm now to check up on you to make sure you’ve had a glass of water, dinner or anything really (He just wanted a reason to go to your dorm)

You played with his hair once, and he’s never going back

When cuddling he’d lay his head in the crook of your neck, hoping to feel you playing with his hair

You push him to start taking therapy sessions to understand what emotions he’s feeling and how to express them

Takes you in your free time to an empty field just to hear you talk, and learn more about you

And he’d always wake up early and made sure to get a few snacks for you before you woke up and brought them to your dorm room (Last time he tried to cook he almost burned the kitchen down)

Overall Todoroki just loves giving you small head pats now, you don’t know where it came from but you didn’t complain

Poor bby stuttered so hard the first time he said ‘I love you’ you giggled

Ended up making him feel embarrassed and like he did something wrong, but you quickly kissed him/praised him

He can’t stop saying it now, one time you picked up his pencil, before you could hand it to him just a sudden “I love you Y/N” the entire class looked at you both in shock

“STOP SUCKING FACES OVER THERE!”

“SHUT UP BAKUGO”

“HAAAH?”

Todoroki is the happiest he’s been.

If it’s a permanent breakup:

“Over? What do you mean we’re over?”

You felt so horrible by the the pure confusion on his face

But the rude things he said to you, over powering your want to get back with him

Lately Todoroki has been more protective, and rude. Insulting everything you do, belittling you slightly. It just added up and you were tired of it

Todoroki tilted his head to the side, deep in thought.

“Y/N your being on the dumber side again, are you hanging out with them too much?” You were taken aback by how nonchalantly he insulted you and your friends. “Excuse me? Todoroki did I hear you right?” You stepped foward leaning your head toward him. “Of course you can, or did Bakugo’s yelling make you not hear so well?” The fact he said it with no emotion, or nothing to it was making you clench your fist. “The hell has gotten into you Todoroki?” You shove his shoulder a bit. He frowned at you heavily making you flinch. “Well if you didn’t go and ignore me most of this week maybe I wouldn’t be like this. I usually hold my tongue but you’ve been rude this entire week.”

You stood there speechless. “Well Ex-fucking-cuse me Shoto. Maybe if you didn’t insult me all the damn time I wouldn’t ignore you, or wait for an decent apology.”

You drag out the last words as you glared at him, Todoroki giving one back. “I’m only telling the truth so you don’t look dumb. I’m helping you out Y/N, I thought you’d understand.” You scoff in utter shock, you couldn’t help the sudden urge to slap some sense into him. Now he stood speechless, the force in that slap causing his hair to look messy, and a red mark on his cheek. Tears were in your eyes as you clenched your fist, biting your lip from cussing him out on the spot. “Your lucky I don’t beat your sorry ass, just...just the the fuck out Todoroki!” You pushed him toward the door. He looked at you with no emotion in his face as he saw you start to bawl your eyes out. “Just...just get the hell out Todoroki, it’s over, we’re over.” He felt a pang in his heart, but choose to ignore it and just left.

It only actually came to him during the night as he was about to walk to your dorm after a nightmare, when he realized the entire conversation

He tried knocking on your door but you didn’t answer, even though he could hear your music

He went back to his dorm, sat on his bed and just had a full mental breakdown

Realizing his main emotional support that helped him through mostly everything was gone

He felt he said stuff his father said to you already which made it even worse

He tried texting and calling you but you had him blocked on everything

He repeated the entire conversation in his head, just now coming to how disgusting he really did sound

Todoroki for that whole week was an emotional wreck

During hero training if he was thinking about you or what he did he doesn’t notice poor Satou trying to get out of his wall of Ice.

Is always with Midoryia at some given time,

He kind of clinged onto people in his circle that gave him attention of some sort

When he some time passed he eventually got over it

After Highschool you both kept in touch, but it pained him when he saw you engaged and happy with another person

But he was happy if you were happy.

Heyyy so this is probably the longest thing I’ve written since like my last Wattpad fanfics I used to do(yikes). But hope you enjoy, and don’t be afraid to request! I’m taking them now so go wild.

Sorry that they were all confusing it’s my first hcs+scenario thingy, but I have a few other things in the works so... 💃🕺

[anntoldst0ries]

Christmas (Baby please come home) - part II

Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Vicky Valentine)

Word Count: 6k+ 

Rating: R

Summary: Ethan & Vicky’s first Christmas together… will everything go as planned?

Category: Mini series, completed. Part I can be found here.

Warnings: A tiny bit of explicit language, mild sexual content. Other than this - I declare fluff, fluff and nothing but the fluff! :D  

Author’s note: Part II is here and it’s long - sorry not sorry :D I put a lot of effort into this story and I hope you’re gonna like it :) I’d like to thank A. from the bottom of my heart, not only has she proofread it and corrected my mistakes, but also gave me the most amazing feedback. Jenner’s response is also hers, but she thoughtfully let me use it :) This is for you my dear <3

Written for CFWC Winter season, using prompt 10. 

Christmas Eve

And then it was just them. 

In the car.

Alone. 

“For someone who has just said more words in 5 minutes than he does for a whole week, you’re surprisingly quiet, Dr Ramsey.’’

“Excellent observation, Dr Valentine. This is exactly the type of insight that earned you a spot on the Diagnostics Team.” Ethan threw her a tiny smile. “But it’s not surprising. It’s called getting things back on an even keel.”

She didn’t say anything, just gently moved her gaze outside the window, where the wintery Boston landscape unfolded right in front of them. In the background, Frank Sinatra’s velvety voice tucked her like a blanket and she couldn’t help but think he’d love White Christmas in the state of Massachusetts.

It wasn’t until then that she actually realised the Christmas song was playing in Ethan's car and not from the radio. This healthy compromise (Sinatra for him, Christmas song for her) made her smile, as she knew how much of an effort listening to Christmas tunes was for the man sitting on her left. His ears must have been bleeding heavily. She made sure of it, playing the jingles at full blast every evening, scarring him for life. 

“Did you call your family to let them know you’re not coming?” Ethan’s deep baritone roused Vicky from the sea of thoughts she was immersed in. 

“Nope, for two reasons: a - they didn’t know I was coming in the first place and b - I am still undecided.” 

Vicky noticed the muscles on his face twitch in an instant.  

“What can I do to help you make your mind up?” Ethan gently took her tiny hand in his and caressed the inside with his thumb. Then, he took it to his mouth and placed a kiss with great reverence, as if he was a religious fanatic and she was an object of religious cult. 

This took her by surprise. She was expecting a snotty remark, a raise of an eyebrow or dead silence. Instead, the question hit her with a load of affection so genuine that warmth instantly spread in her chest.

She knew exactly what it was that she needed.

He knew exactly what she was going to ask for.

“Ethan, I… listen, you and I both know there is something more to your reaction. What I said in your office, it was just a trigger. I don’t know what it is and frankly I thought about never mentioning it again. But we both know that the next time this happens, you will cut me off again. I am not going to force you to do something you don’t want to. I just can’t keep going through the same cycles and… and—“

He put his palm on hers and took a deep breath. 

“Are you hungry? Tired?” The older doctor asked with concern.

What the hell? Oh, I see what you’re doing Ramsey. Change of subject. Fine. I said what I wanted to say. The ball’s in your court now, doc.

“No to both.” She said as neutrally as possible, trying her best not to show him that the sudden change of subject upset her.

“Good. Before we go home, there is a place I need to stop by, is that ok?” The question sounded shyly, it wasn’t a tone she’d ever associate with him.

“I’ve never heard of a murderer who asked his victim if it’s ok to stop by the crime scene.”

“Trust me, if I were to murder you, you wouldn’t know.”

“Hmm, I’d like to think I know you well enough I would at least suspect.”

“I’d like to think you know me well enough to also know that I’d rather give you one of Dr Ramsey’s signature tirades. They are worse than murder.”

“No arguments here. So, will you tell me where we are going?”

“You’ll see.”

Soon, Ethan parked the car. He unbuckled the seat belt, opened the door and rushed to the other side, to open hers. He reached out for her hand with a faint smile and she blushed at the gentlemanly gesture. 

Having intertwined their fingers, Ethan led her along a high brick wall until a gate materialised in front of them. He gently pushed the gate and let her through. Only then did she realise where they actually were.

“Commonwealth Avenue Mall? What are we doing here?”

“If you ask me, it’s one of the most picturesque pathways I’ve ever seen and not only during winter. I like to come here for my runs and to… contemplate. Walk with me?” He asked, but it wasn’t really a question. Hand in hand, they walked down the alley. Fresh snow scrunched underfoot and the strings of lights danced to the melody of delicate wind. If this wasn’t a fairytale setting, she didn’t know what could be.

Vicky studied Ethan’s features carefully. Although he was still a closed book sometimes, she’s gotten quite good at reading him over the months. After Edenbrook, Ethan Ramsey was the second biggest field where her sharp diagnostic skills were heavily utilised. Maybe that’s what she should focus on once she starts her PhD? “The curious case of Ethan Jonah Ramsey.”

That’s how she noticed that something was clearly eating Ethan from the inside. If her calculations were correct, there was approximately 1/1000 chance of him making a decision to speak, so she decided to throw him a lifebelt. 

“Ethan, I can see that you want to say something, but it feels like you’re hesitating. Please don’t feel obliged to talk, I want you to do it on your own terms. As long as I know you want to talk to me eventually, I’m fine.”

“If I don’t speak now, I’m afraid I might never summon the courage.” Ethan tried to make it sound like a joke, but she knew how serious he was right now. She knew how much it had to cost him. Suddenly, she stopped and put her hands around his neck, then pressed her forehead to his.

“Don’t do this because of me.”

“Because of you? I’m not doing this because of you. I’m doing it for you. For us. What I’m about to say is painful, Vicky, but it’s nowhere near as painful as the thought of losing you. I’ve already told you how much time we lost because of my stubbornness. When… when you and Raf were locked in the hospital room…when I thought you were slipping from my grasp…” He had to stop to clear his throat and take a deep breath, clearly struggling to talk. “I promised myself that if life gives me a second chance, I will not waste it. I will work on this, on us, harder than I’ve worked during my 10 years at Edenbrook combined. I’d climb every damn mountain and swim every ocean if that’s what it takes to have you in my life.” 

She wanted to cry. It took every ounce of her strength not to. Ethan wasn’t a blabbermouth, but when he spoke - man, he knew how to choose his words wisely.

“Ethan, whatever it is… we will get through it. Together. You are not alone, darling.”

Ethan felt tears prickling from underneath his closed lids. Not only because of what she said, but also because of what she didn’t say. He saw the impact of his words in her eyes, yet she didn’t want to make this about her, but him. Her selflessness was one of the things he loved and admired most about her.  The older doctor never let himself be so vulnerable with any other person and as hard as it was for him, it also felt strangely right. As if all the pieces of this crazy puzzle called life finally came together. 

Feeling as ready as he’d ever be, he took a deep breath and said: “Let me take you on a trip down memory lane…”

25 years earlier

Ethan is 11 and he’s sitting alone in his room. The window in the 4 walls of his world overlooks the street and it's his only connection to the outside world. The window sill underneath is wide enough to sit on it, but not very comfortable for a long time. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there, unmoving. It may have been hours, it may have been days. Time lost its sense.

He’s already past the point of pain caused by the unnatural position, his body has entered the numb phase, and he doesn’t feel anything anymore. He wishes his mind could join his body in the bliss of being rid of feelings.

It is only thanks to the carollers wandering on the streets that he’s convinced it must be Christmas Eve. And how he also knows it’s been 27 days since his mother walked out on him. Anger mixes with despair, yet he’s unable to stop waiting for her, stop jumping involuntarily at any movement in close proximity of his home. There is still hope.

Unbeknownst to him, Alan stands on the other side of the door trying to make the hardest decision today: to save his son or to be there for his son. Alan is a painful reminder of the life they once had, a bridge to the reality that tumbled down. He slowly retreats from the door, unsure if he’s doing the right or the bad thing. How are you supposed to know? Life does not exactly prepare you for moments like this.

Everyone asks him how Ethan is. No wonder, he is just a child whose mother disappeared into thin air. But do they not realise he suffers too? He loved, loves this woman more than life itself.

Alan was furious at Louise. But was he surprised? Not entirely. Deep down, he always knew that she was a restless soul. She always gave him hints - a subtle comment here and there, some words said during one of their fights. But he was blindly in love, so whenever she gave him reasons to think they shouldn’t be together, he ignored it. And when she did something that surprised him, she won him over and he lost the argument with himself.

What worried Alan was that Ethan started showing Louise’s personality traits. And as much as she fooled him, he didn’t want his only child to end up broken and hurt. If he could, he’d do anything to protect him. But even as a father he was unable to shield his child from the damage of being abandoned by his mother, the only person that should forever shower him with unconditional love. How does one ever recover from such trauma?

Ethan knew. Although his dad tiptoed around him, he felt it. He knew exactly that he was fighting internal battles. He knew that his father suffered. 

There wasn’t anything that he wanted more than for his dad to come and hug him and tell him everything’s gonna be alright.

Or for his mum to come back home and explain the unexplainable. 

But somehow he knew this wasn’t going to happen and he was tired of waiting for a miracle.

And on this Christmas Eve he made a decision: he will never let anyone fool him with a promise of unconditional love ever again.

He will separate himself from the rest of the world, build a wall so high no one will ever be able to jump over it. 

No one will hurt him again, because you can’t hurt the rational mind, you can only hurt an emotional heart.

Today

“I haven’t cried since.” Ethan was now full on sobbing. “Until I met you, that is.” 

She pulled him as close as humanly possible and enveloped him in a tight hug, with his head resting upon the crook of her neck. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks abundantly.

The older doctor was afraid that once he’d start, he’d never stop crying. All his shattered dreams, his sleepless nights, silent prayers, fake smiles, they all joined forces and attacked him with all their might. Had it not been for her hard grip, he might’ve fallen on his knees. How this petite girl found so much strength was a mystery to him, but he’d never been more grateful. 

She kept rubbing soothing circles on his back and neck. It made her feel so unspeakably sad that the man she loved had to carry this unimaginable burden throughout his whole life. And as much as it sucked, she was happy that from now on, they could carry this burden together. Although he didn’t say anything, Ethan must have agreed, as she felt the tension slowly leaving his shoulders. They stood there in the freezing cold for what felt like forever. But neither of them seemed to mind, because they were in their tiny little bubble, impenetrable, where no one could hurt them.

Finally, the older doctor broke the silence.

“Let’s go. You must be freezing.” 

“I’m about 5 minutes from hypothermia but I should be fine. I know a great doctor.” 

“Well, one of the most important principles of modern medicine is ‘prevent, not cure.’ Plus, I think someone has really missed you.”

———

“OMG Jenner st—“

Before she was ready to finish the sentence, she was already on the floor, laughing like a maniac. 

“You will be the death of me, Jenner.”

I’ll treat that as a compliment, Vic. But Christmas treats first, chatting later, lady!  

That’s how she thought the conversation went in the dog's head. Ethan helped her get up and took her coat. 

“I hope you are still not sleepy.”

“Not really, why?”

“Because I need a companion.”

“Always & with pleasure, but I assume you mean something else right now?”

“You minx. I want you to sit down comfortably, I’ll pour you a glass of wine. You can watch one of your favourite Christmas movies or play Christmas songs - whatever your heart desires.”

“Who are you and have you eaten my own Mr Grinch, Christmas-friendly creature?”

“I just need you to sit here whilst I’ll be working. Now go and get changed.” 

She obeyed quickly, which she always did when he used his commanding doctor voice on her. Whilst changing into leggings and a hoodie, some weird noises reached her ears, clearly coming from the living room. When Vicky came back, a glass of white wine sat on the coffee table. But that’s not what surprised her.

The 37-year old diagnostician was tangled in Christmas lights and so was Jenner, who thought his master was playing some sort of game with him and kept jumping around Ethan.

“What are you doing?”

“Well…since, because of me, you had to call off Christmas, I’m reinstating it. I will take all the decorations out while you’ll be sitting here doing nothing, maybe apart from instructing me on how to do it right. Does this sound like a fair punishment?”

“Only if you let me record this and post it on Pictagram.”

“Don’t cross the line, Valentine.”

“Ethan Ramsey, king of rhymes! Fine, I suppose I can still die happy knowing I’ve instilled the Christmas spirit into you.”

“Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to actually dump you in the forest…”

“Talk to the hand, Gramps!”

 ---------

Christmas Day

Christmas mornings were always rushed and crazy at the Valentine household. Although Vicky loved Christmas in her family home, she didn’t know how much she actually enjoyed the lazy, easy Christmas mornings until she was able to experience it. And she couldn’t be more content that it was with Ethan.

Mercifully, he let her sleep until 9am (obviously, he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t mumble something about her sleeping too long and how she was able to function like this, but she completely ignored the remarks) and then brought her breakfast to bed, which she consumed in its entirety, with a little help from Jenner. The most important meal of the day had been delivered with a complimentary kiss, which was her favourite part.

“Ethan!” She shouted from the bedroom, not quite ready to leave the comfort of his bed. The older doctor left her with the food and went to prepare them both a cup of coffee.

“Jesus Christ woman, you’re so loud I’m starting to consider getting rid of my stereo.”

“Oh, it didn’t seem to bother you last night.” She winked at him and he grinned involuntarily. How was it possible that she was in possession of his facial expressions too?

“Anyway, can you please remind me what time we have to be there tonight?”

“Be where tonight?”

“Naveen’s Christmas Party.”

“We’re not going.”

“Yes, we are.”

“No, we are not.” 

“Ok, let me rephrase this: me and my unearthly seductive dress are definitely in attendance. If you and Your Royal Grumpiness wish to stay home, be my guests.”

“You don’t play fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

“You know how much I hate rubbing shoulders with idiots in bowties.”

“I do, but let me offer some consolation. This time, you don’t have to do this, because we are not raising any donations. Also, we can laugh at those idiots together and if either of us is stuck in a pointless conversation, the other can always rescue them.”

He couldn’t argue with her logic, instead pulling her close against his chest and kissing the top of her head.

Later this evening 

“V, how much longer until you are ready?” Ethan was growing impatient. He hated waiting and just couldn’t understand what took her so long. He was convinced that even wearing a garbage bag, she’d be the most stunning woman in the room.

“Ethan, nothing has changed since you’ve asked me 5 minutes ago.”

“Fine, but don’t be surprised if I leave without you.” 

“No you won’t. But for someone who didn’t want to go at all not longer than 8 hours ago you are quite eager now. Call me an influencer.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want if this means we can leave soon. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can come back.”

“Whatever I want? Bad move Ramsey, bad move.” 

“I’ll sho—“

He turned around and the words got stuck in his throat at the sight unveiling in front of him. She looked like a freaking goddess, who decided to descend from Mount Olympus and grace the mortals with her presence.

“You were saying?”

“I..I… you..well..” For a man so educated he now sounded less articulate than a toddler. To make things worse, a certain body part painfully reminded him that behind the facade of accomplishments, he was still a primate. 

“Ethan, could you stop talking so much? I can’t hear my own thoughts.” She laughed and it was so infectious that he couldn’t help but smile. 

She decided to wear a long, black gown, with a thigh high split showing her slim, tanned legs that he was a total sucker for. The ensemble was complimented by crystal embellished sandals and glamorous drop earrings. 

“I’ve never seen anyone whose insides matched their outsides so accurately. To me, you are perfect.”

Her heart stopped and she felt butterflies waltzing through her stomach. No matter how many times Ethan complimented her, she always felt like Cupid punched her right in the face. And she hoped the feeling would never fade or disappear.

“So you watched Love Actually with me yesterday.”

“Watched is an overstatement. I might have peeked a few times.” Ethan cleared his throat. “Can we go now?”

“Absolutely not. Did the Edenbrook gala not teach you that if you need to attend an event you are not particularly excited about, you shouldn’t go sober?”

“I suppose you have a point here. One drink.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“Deal! Pleasure doing business with you, Dr Ramsey.” 

Ethan poured them both a glass of his best scotch. Before she was able to take a sip, he stopped her with his hand. “I’d like to propose a toast.”

“Fire away.”

“To curing the incurable. In medicine and in life.” He sent her a sweet, genuine smile that made her heart beat ten times faster.

Then, they made some bets about what’s going to happen during this year’s party, who’s going to get so wasted that they will be forced to perform a walk of shame for months to come. For the whole time, the younger doctor couldn’t shake the feeling that he is studying her.

“What is it? And don’t tell me it’s nothing, I’ve spent too much time with you for my observation skills not to improve insanely. Like it or not, you created a monster.”

“I like to think of it as making the world a better place… nevertheless, I’m impressed, Dr Valentine. For a 3rd year resident your skills are exquisite.” 

She put her hand on her heart and smiled. All the compliments she’s ever received in her life faded in comparison to one from Ethan Ramsey. Her high school hero, her inspiration and she still couldn’t quite believe it, the man she was now sharing her life with. 

“Now, if you’ll allow me, I must order a cab now, otherwise I may lose a battle soon.”

“What battle?”

Ethan looked at her, lust flooding from his eyes. He quickly stepped behind her and gripped her waist, then leaned into her ear, catching it ever so gently with his lips. This alone was enough for her knees to give out and she was never more grateful for the kitchen island and the fact she was holding onto it for dear life. But he didn’t stop there. He whispered into her ear and no other sounds in the world could compare to the symphony of his voice, dripping with desire.

“The one in my mind, between my rational mind and my primal desire, urging me to rip off this dress and devour you right now.”

Goosebumps spread across her body, a painful reminder of the fact that maybe her mind and mouth could lie to Ethan, but her body couldn’t. Damn it.

She knew it was a matter of milliseconds before she’d be unable to make a rational decision, so she quickly slipped from Ethan’s grip and whispered: “You should order it now then.” Then, she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Oh, you’re gonna make me work for it, aren’t you?”

“Well, that’s only part of the reason. The other, bigger part is that I just really, really want to show up at this party with my insanely hot boyfriend by my side, without finally having to hide and pretend. Unless…he’s ashamed of me.” 

“Vic, there are a lot of things in my life that have ‘shame’ and ‘you’ in one sentence. I’m ashamed of running away from you to Amazon. I’m ashamed of denying my feelings for so long. I’m ashamed of hurting you, more than once. But to have you by my side, to finally call you mine? That’s my greatest pride. Now, shall we?” He offered her a wide smile and his arm.

“You asshole. First, you try to seduce me and then you make me cry. Let’s go then, Naveen is going to kill us. I promised we’re only gonna be fashionably late.”

———————

The party was already bustling when they arrived, the room filled with chatter of many guests in attendance. The event was Naveen’s pride and a tribute to his many years as one of the most important figures in today’s medicine. It was almost like Elton John’s Oscars after party - everyone wanted to be there. Being there made Vicky feel special, but more than that, uneasy - she was still just a resident and somehow felt like she didn’t belong there. At least, not yet.

In the background, the string quartet played classical versions of popular songs and carols. The venue was impressive, located within one of Boston’s most prestigious hotels, whose owner was Naveen’s - obviously - long time friend. 

The second Dr Banerji spotted them, he practically ran in their direction, almost bumping into one of the guests.

“Well well, if this isn’t my favourite pair of doctors. Dr Valentine, you look like you walked out of one of Botticelli’s paintings.”

“Enough with the formalities. I’m so happy to see you, Naveen! Merry Christmas.” She hugged the old doctor tightly and although initially surprised by this display of affection, he instantly relaxed and returned the hug.

“Merry Christmas, my dear.” 

“It’s quite something, this party of yours Naveen. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Why, thank you. You know what my favourite part is?” He locked arms with the younger doctor and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “This party satiates my hunger for gossip for months to come. And I’m pretty sure this evening will be, for many reasons, unforgettable. Enjoy your evening, my friends, I shall see you around.” 

Naveen winked at Vicky and Ethan felt like there was some sort of unspoken agreement between them, one that he wasn’t a part of.

“What was that about?”

“What was what about?”

“I know you and I know Naveen. Something is off here.” 

“Ethan Ramsey, are you jealous? FYI, I don’t fancy older men. Oh no, wait. I totally do.” She was trying really hard to stay serious, but failed miserably.

“Very funny, Valentine.”

“Sorry Gramps. This one you were totally asking for.”

“I’m gonna go get us some real drinks, I need to hydrate myself heavily if I’m to survive the evening.”

“Don’t cloud your judgement too much, Ethan. You may need it.” 

Maybe he was imagining the whole exchanging looks thing between Vicky and Naveen. But now he was certain she’s hiding something. And he intended to find out what it is or he was not Dr Ethan Ramsey. 

After he fetched them the drinks, they found their seats and soon Naveen made his annual speech, summarising the whole year and thanking tons of people. Vicky loved experiencing Naveen as a speaker, he didn’t have Ethan’s commanding presence, but his years of experience and sincerity in his voice made everyone listen with absolute silence.

He then joined them at the table. Of course he sat us with him, Ethan thought.

“Naveen, if you think I’m going to be your source of hospital gossip, think again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We don’t spend as much time in the hospital together and I miss my dear friends.”

Before he was able to respond, Vicky pinched his thigh under the table and sent him a murderous look. 

“We miss you too, Naveen. Now, why don’t you two catch up properly, whilst I’m gonna go and do my round of talks, there are a couple of people I wanted to chat with.”

“Sure, feed me to the lions, Vic.”

“When have you become such a drama queen, Ethan? If I wanted to feed you to the lions, you’d be standing over there.” She pointed her finger to the corner of the room, where some big pharma executives were enjoying themselves. She waved friendly in their direction, and they responded in kind.

“Alright gentlemen, I need to run before they catch me.”  

Before she turned around, her and Naveen shared meaningful looks, but before Ethan had a chance to ask, she was already gone. Plus, Naveen changed the subject and the two immersed themselves in a very interesting conversation, which reminded Ethan how much he liked his mentor, not as a doctor, but genuinely as a human being. This made him one of a few people Ethan truly liked.

Dr Ramsey was one of those people who, when they were focused - whether on the case, on the conversation or on watching an opera - dedicated their attention entirely to said activity. Which was probably the reason why the sounds coming from the stage took him by surprise. He didn’t realise that the string quartet had been replaced by a group of young people, who started playing more lively. 

No longer than 30 seconds later, someone started singing, but the voice was not coming from the stage. It was coming from behind. Suddenly, all the guests turned their heads around as one. 

The snow's coming down

I'm watching it fall

Lots of people around

Baby please come home

The angelic voice belonged to a beautiful girl in a black gown. She sat on a bar stool, side-facing everyone. Suddenly, she jumped from the seat and started walking towards the stage, each step sensual.

The church bells in town

All ringing in song

Full of happy sounds

Baby please come home

Ethan must have looked like an absolute idiot, because he sat there gaping like a fish.

They're singing "Deck The Halls"

But it's not like Christmas at all

'Cause I remember when you were here

And all the fun we had last year

Once on the stage, she owned both the stage and the crowd. Some people started dancing, others clapped to the rhythm and sang with her. When she finished and took a bow, the audience applauded her generously. 

“Good evening everyone. I’m Vicky and I’m a doctor at Edenbrook Hospital. Thank you for organising this amazing event, Naveen, and thanks for having me. And now, please meet these amazing musicians, whom I have the honour of calling my friends. Back in high school we formed a band, which we called Valentine’s Day… that was a very accurate name on many levels.” She chuckled and the crowd followed. 

“You are looking at people who never gave up on their dreams and now play in some amazing venues. I couldn’t be more proud of them. It would have been the same for me, most likely, if it wasn’t for a book, which I’m sure a lot of you ladies and gentlemen are familiar with. It’s called Diagnostics Principles. After I read it, nothing was the same. And here I am, all these years later, getting covered in blood and sweat almost every day. But today, I can at least bask in the glory of the amazing people standing here with me.”  

“I’d like to dedicate this next song to the author of the above mentioned book. He changed my life in more ways than he can realise. And although I promised him we will not exchange any Christmas presents, I haven’t spent any money on this one, so technically it doesn’t count, right?” She earned another amused reaction from the crowd.

“It’s my favourite Christmas song and I’m so honoured to be able to sing it for you.”

The subtle sounds of a piano reverberated in the room and she started singing, her voice pure and powerful.

O Holy night

The stars are brightly shining

It is the night of our dear Savior's birth

Ethan couldn’t move or breathe. He just stared, completely transfixed. 

Long lay the world in sin and error pining

'Til He appears and the soul felt its worth

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn

To hear her singing was one thing. To feel all the things the act was doing to him, was completely different. With every sound produced by her vocal cords, a new, overwhelming sensation was born inside of him.

Fall on your knees

O hear the Angel voices

O night divine

O night when Christ was born

O night divine

O night

Oh night divine

Their eyes locked and she sent him a look so full of affection that he felt a warm tear flowing down his cheek. 

For him, it was anything but watching a performance. It was a spiritual experience. Towards the end of the song, she hit the notes so high, that he couldn’t help but look around the room. Everyone was in awe of her. And he was never prouder to call her “his”.

After the last bits of instruments resonated, the guests gave her a standing ovation. Ethan clapped his hands so hard that they hurt. He even whistled on his fingers which he hasn’t done since high school. To hell with it, he thought. 

And then he ran, knowing that in a second he will not be able to squeeze through the crowd of admirers. He scooped her in his arms and kissed her with so much passion that she felt dizzy.

“Wow, that was different.”

“What do you mean?”

“The kiss, it felt different.”

“There are so many things I want to say right now, but I can’t do it here. How much longer do we have to stay?”

“I promised the guys I will sing a couple more songs with them and then I wanted to introduce you and have a drink together. After that, we’re free to go.”

“Deal.”

——

“My feet are killing me. I don’t know how I survived in those heels, but I’m walking barefoot for the next 2 days.” 

“How fitting since I’m not going to let you out of this apartment until we have to go back to work.”

“I’m gonna go get changed in my PJ’s”

“Ah, not that soon.” Ethan said with a devilish smile and then approached her, reaching for her hand. “May I have this dance?”

“Although I’m tempted to say no to Dr Ramsey just to prove a point, I could never say no to Ethan.” She took a bow and gave him her hand.

“Lucky me. I just wanted to dance with you away from the prying eyes. For the whole evening everyone stared at you. I’m a selfish man and I was counting the minutes until I have the view all to myself.”

The sounds of Something by The Beatles started seeping from a glamorous gramophone.

“The Beatles? I didn’t take you for the type who’d listen to them.”

“Frank Sinatra christened this song the ‘greatest love song ever written.’ And who am I to argue with him?”

For a moment they swayed in silence, cheek to cheek. Then, the older doctor leaned back and looked her straight in the eye.

“So, you are not great at keeping promises, are you?” He mumbled playfully. 

“You mean the “let’s not exchange gifts” thing? I stand by what I said earlier, I haven’t spent a dime on it, so it doesn’t count.”

“It’s funny that you don’t even begin to realise how wrong you are.” He was very serious but there was a rare gentleness in his voice. “First of all, you mentioned you had a band in high school and that you sang but you never told me that you practically traded being a music star for being a doctor.” She blushed shyly at the compliment.

“Secondly, when you sang, I just couldn’t take my eyes off of you. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard and I consider myself an audiophile.”

“Coming from you, this is officially the biggest praise ever. I will have this printed and framed. You may even get an autograph if you play your cards right.”

“Shut up, I haven’t finished. You can ruin the moment later.” Ethan playfully swatted her arm. 

“With you, I am discovering parts of myself I never knew existed. And I’m strangely content with this. So, to sum up, all of the above makes me feel very guilty that I didn’t get you anything.”

“Ethan, you don’t have to give me anything. But it’s funny you said that, because you don’t even begin to realise how wrong you are.” She was proud of herself for being able to use his own words as a counterargument. 

“Actually, you gave me the biggest gift yesterday: a real part of you. I’m guessing, actually it’s more than a guess, that this is not something you shared with many people.”

“I haven’t shared this with anyone.”

“And that’s the biggest gift I could ever ask for. I want to be the person who helps you carry the cross, no matter how heavy it is.”

He pressed her even tighter against his chest and rested his chin on her head. But he felt the need to express all the other things his words couldn’t, so he gently lifted her chin and pressed his lips to hers. She tasted and smelled divine. On a very basic level, she smelled like coconut and mango. 

To him, she smelled like spring, summer, autumn and winter. Like a promise of sun after the storm. Like home. Ethan finally found his home, his safe haven.

The kiss made her feel dizzy again and then she remembered.

“So, the kiss. It feels different. Why?” She looked at him so innocently it almost made him sweat. Ethan cupped her cheek as if he was holding the most precious thing in his palm… and for him, he was.

 “When you were singing for me, I made a promise. From now on, whenever I kiss you, I want to make it feel like it’s the last time, but also a promise of the million more kisses we will share. Merry Christmas, Vicky.”

“Merry Christmas, Ethan.”

***************************

If you made it this far, from the bottom of my heart - thank you & you are awesome! I wish you all the best in 2021, let’s hope it’s a better year for us all :)

Tag list: @genevievemd | @terrm9 | @starrystarrytrouble | @danijimenezv | @mercury84choices | @maurine07 | @gryffindordaughterofathena | @jamespotterthefirst | @justanotherrookie | @alwaysmychoices | @takeharryandgo | @beckaroo | @lucy-268 | @aarisa-frost | @openheartfanfics | @caseyvalentineramsey | @brooks-eden | @heauxplesslydevoted | @iemcpbchoices | @lovingramsey​ 

[cinnonym]

christmas is the time to say i love you (share the joys)

Written for Day 9 - Ugly Sweater / Dressing Up of 12 Days of Supercorp @supercorpbb

Read on AO3

***

In retrospect, maybe Alex should have known better.

After all, there had been signs aplenty in the past couple of weeks. Supergirl taking longer for her tasks at work. Kara smiling at her phone during movie night, although she used to be the one who always insisted on the no-phones rule. Lena coming over to the loft unannounced one day, looking somewhat bummed when she found Alex there.

Just to name a few things that Alex had noticed. And who knew what else had been going on behind her back? Since her little sister had finally learned to keep a secret (and used that power for evil, evidently), there was no telling, really. Because, like, people didn't fall in love over night.

But Alex was getting ahead of herself. There was a certain order to events, and Alex should at least try to do this the right way. So she would have her story at the ready, if she were ever asked to recount it.

At her sister's wedding, for example. In case it came as unexpectedly as... But she was getting ahead of herself.

***

Of course, it had all went down during game night.

Because heaven forbid they could have one relaxed pre-Christmas evening without something big happening. (Alex supposed she should be glad there hadn't been a city-wide fire, again, or a hostile alien attack or something of the sort. Then again, at least she would have known how to deal with that.)

So, game night. They'd been a small round that evening, just Kara, Lena, and Sam, plus Ruby as a honorary guest, all huddling together at Alex's place for once. Because it felt empty ever since Maggie had moved out, and also because Alex was planning on drinking plenty and Kara'd been hesitant to let her stay over lately (Alex should have known).

It was a quiet night, peaceful somehow. There hadn't been any snow yet, but the clouds were thick and promising, and there lay a certain expectancy in the air, as if the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Well, something did happen. It wasn't snow though. It was the doorbell.

"You're late," Alex said into the entry phone, fully expecting a contrite giggle in reply. Kara was rarely on time, but she always, always apologised profoundly when she arrived at last. As for Lena... Well, Alex hadn't even expected her to show up at all, in fact. Leading a company like L-Corp probably didn't allow for much free time, and Alex barely considered Lena to be one to drop it all just for something as trivial as game night.

She was wrong. On all accounts.

"Why, hello there!" Kara sang (yes, sang) in reply, and there was a chuckle in the background that Alex would in the course of the evening learn to recognise as Lena's. "And a good evening to you too. Hope you didn't get started without us?"

"Us?" Alex asked. Oh, blissful last moments of oblivion.

Kara's laugh was entirely unfamiliar, loud and carefree in a way Alex hadn't heard in years. "Oh, Lena and me of course," she said, "sorry for coming so late, we got... held up along the way."

There was that chuckle again, before Lena's voice was heard in the background: "Is she gonna let us in or not, it's freezing!"

Alex pressed the buzzer wordlessly, turning around with a slight frown.

"Us?" Ruby asked, catching her eyes from where she was stretched out on the couch. "Was that Kara?"

"Yep," Alex made, "Kara... and Lena."

Sam raised her eyebrows. "Did they come together?"

"Apparently?" Alex sighed. Something was off, something was not adding up, like a calculation gone awry, but she couldn't yet put her finger on the point where she went wrong. She shrugged the thought off.

"Why don't you ask them yourself?"

Because then there they were, Kara in one of her light jackets that did a great job at masking her alien heritage (not), Lena in a lush coat, wrapped up from head to toe.

"Hi!" Kara beamed. And while her sister was a smiling person in general, Alex had seldomly seen her that radiant. Even Lena's typical "Alex" was way less reserved than usual. Oh yes, something was going on.

Sam noticed it too. She gave Alex a puzzled little side glance before she stood up to hug the newcomers, warm and long like only Sam could hug people. (And maybe something was going on there too, but Alex refused to think about it.)

"Kara," Sam smiled, "it's good to see you again. And Lena, I'm happy you could make it."

Lena ducked her head, because even she wasn't immune to the charm that was Samantha Arias. "Anything to spend time with my friends."

At which Kara snorted. Alex's frown deepened.

"Now that we're all here," she said, rather pointedly, "maybe we can get started on some games?"

"Please, before y'all start acting even weirder!" But even Ruby, her reproving (and very valid) exclamation be blessed, couldn't help glancing curiously at the blush that had appeared across Lena's cheeks.

***

"Neat sweater, by the way," remarked Sam halfway into Activity. It was a comment totally aimed at distracting Alex from the fact that Lena and Kara had just fleeced them in pantomime, and to Alex's shame it worked like a charm.

Because the thing was, she'd noticed the sweater too. It was a hideous thing, (clashing colours, frantic patterns, an honest-to-God bell sewn to the front) and there was just no way that an item like that could be found in Lena Luthor's walk-in closet. She must have either bought it especially for this occasion, or...

Or there was a reason why it was slightly too big for her. Why Lena snuggled into it from time to time, inhaling its scent with a smile that was uncommonly soft. Why Alex had the feeling she'd seen this exact sweater before, the ugly pattern burned into her memory.

And why Kara was wearing a sweater with a suspiciously equally ugly print.

Alex started choking just when Lena's smile turned from surprised to smug. She knew what Lena would say, realised it in the very second Lena spoke the words, like she were reading her mind.

"Thank you, but it's actually Kara's."

"Is it now?" Sam smiled in a way that made it very obvious she'd figured out as much already. Ruby was smirking too. Only Alex had apparently been too focused on fucking Activity to notice it earlier.

"Oh?" She made somewhat strenuously, the feeling that something was going on suddenly stronger than ever before. "How come?"

Lena gave her a patient smile, while Kara giggled. "Well, she came to pick me up in the nicest dress you can possibly imagine, although I'd specifically told her to wear something casual. And like, I said to her 'you can't wear that, we'll all get depressed' because you know, it was just that ho- pretty." Kara blushed. Alex was beginning to feel a little faint.

"O-kay?"

"Anyway, one thing led to another and long story short, I let her borrow a sweater," Kara finished hastily, then looked at Lena with what Alex called the un-frown (just like a normal frown, except it became exceedingly clear that Kara very much didn't mean it). "Borrow."

Lena blinked innocently. "Whatever you say, darling."

Darling?

"I'm never getting this sweater back, am I?" Kara huffed exaggeratedly, to which Lena only replied with a "nope", popping the p almost as hard as Kara usually did. Then she squeezed Kara's hand in reconciliation.

At which point Alex noticed they were holding hands.

***

It had all got sorted out quite quickly after that. Ruby wasn't surprised. Sam had always known, or at least strongly suspected it (which was mildly terrifying insofar that Alex was pretty sure she herself did a way worse job at hiding her feelings than Kara and Lena. On the other hand, maybe it also meant that the dinner invitation Sam had extended to her later that night was a dinner invitation indeed.)

Ultimately, it turned out that the only one who'd been completely in the dark about matters was Alex. She, who'd always prided herself in having a good nose for all things Kara-related. She, who'd always assumed she had a decent gaydar.

She, who couldn't even complain about it, because the light in Kara's eyes whenever Lena smiled at her was so bright, it banished the dark thoughts right from Alex's mind.

So, yeah, in retrospect there had been signs aplenty. Supergirl working out between her assignments sometimes now. Kara buying a necklace that was so not her style, even the jeweller asked her multiple times if she was certain she wanted that one. Lena sitting on Kara's couch one day when Alex came by unannounced, painting her nails with Kara's favourite polish.

Just to name a few things Alex recalled now afterwards. And she really should have known.

[nautiscarader]

One more stocking next year - pregnancy/impregnation Hiccstrid. Astrid wants to give Hiccup a memmorable snoggletog gift. They fuck on furs by the fire all night long. Astrid wants to make absolutely sure it works so she times her getting filled with the rising solstice sun for the gods blessing.

(okay, so first of all, i LOVED that detailed and well-thought prompt, this is how you ensure yourself a spot in my heart. I had to make one tiny change to make it better with the idea of polar night during Snoggletog, though. Also ages might be wonky given the canon, but w/e)

(Ao3)

Also, if you enjoyed my work, here's Ko-fi link if you'd be so kind ❤️ .

==============

Never before has Astrid been that nervous during the Snoggletog day. true, this day was usually hectic, filled with preparations and last-minute shopping, but this year was different. This was their first Snoggletog on New Berk. First Snoggletog without dragons. And first Snoggletog as a wife.

The past few months she helped Hiccup preparing the Vikings for the winter in new place. Finding new sources of food, gathering supplies, mapping the territory. And now, on top of it was the celebration itself, draining the time from the ever shorter days, as their land approached the short two weeks of never-ending night.

Sitting by the table, amongst her and Hiccup's family, Astrid nervously looked in the window, at the last rays of the setting Sun, hoping her nervousness wasn't too noticeable. But she was wrong, as Hiccup's keen eye quickly spotted her behaviour and reached his hand to hold hers, noticing she hasn't touched the dish she helped preparing.

- Is something wrong? - he whispered, leaning towards her, while his mother sang with Gobber - No, no.. - Astrid smiled - I just wished we were alone already... This day was so... exhausting.

Hiccup looked into her tired eyes, and after a moment of thinking kissed her on the cheek.

- I hope you are ready for one last act. - The what?

Hiccup sat back in his chair, reached for a bottle of mead, and when everyone else were staring at the singing couple, he pretended to pour himself a cup. The peaceful musical moment was shattered with the cup that tumbled to the ground, as Hiccup began moving erratically in his chair.

- Oh, oh dear! - he babbled - It seems we might have brewed a bit too strong mead this year.

He winked at Astrid.

- Aye, yes, you are right, my husband. - she acted best to her abilities. - I don't think I can stand on my leg! If only there was someone strong that could help me walk to my bed! - Don't worry, lad, I'll carry ya!

Hiccup stopped wobbling at once when Gobber reached towards him.

- Between you and we we have two working legs, so we'll be there lickety split.

Astrid pierced him with a stern gaze.

- Er, don't you think tat tis should be Aye, his betrothed wife to carry him, and, er... scold him for clouding his mind too much? - Ar, ye might be right. Just wanted to help, that's all. - So, that's settled then, we are so sorry we cannot stay longer, but...

The two exchanged knowing looks.

- I have to make him a nice cup of yak nog!

This time, Hiccup didn't have to pretend to lose his balance.

- Yes, right, that should do it...

Five minutes later, Hoccup and Astrid were laughing as they waddled through the thick snow away from the chieftain's hall back to their hut, and just before they entered, Hiccup ceremoniously grabbed Astrid and carried her through the door, much to her enjoyment.

- Okay, first emergency exit from family meeting as a new chief. I don't think it was that bad. - It was. It was horrible. - Astrid kissed him - But we don't have to worry about it. - Astrid, go to bed, I'm gonna make you some tea, maybe? - Hiccup took her coat - That should calm your nerves. And I will do stuff around the house...

But as he undid his coat, Astrid's arms closed around his neck, just as her lips met with his in a long, fiery kiss that truly made him feel drunk.

- Actually, I wasn't feeling tired... - she looked into their living room, illuminated by just a dash of light from outside. - I was hurrying up to.. to give you my gift. - Oh, milady, you don't have to do this today, you can wait till tomorrow- - No, no I can't. - she said sharply.

She pressed her lips against his again and walked into the room, leading Hiccup with her. And with each step, her fingers undid one layer of his clothes, and when his hands reached her waist, she let out a prolonged moan, happy that he was on with her plan.

- Here? - Mhm. - she murmured, kissing his jawline.

His ceremonial clothes felt to the floor, and so did hers, tied with dozens of knots and strings.

- We have all night... - No, no we don't. - she repeated, making Hiccup raise his eyebrows. - Okay, time out. Is there something I don't know about? - Hiccup...

She leaned against him, still undoing her clothes.

- Today is the last day of the Sun.

With her other hand she grabbed a piece of wood and threw it into the fireplace. Hiccup at once readied his fiery sword and ignited it, filling the room with pleasant warmth and light.

- Hiccup, I did some calculations, and it's today. Today is the best day for me to... give you your present.

She took his hand and placed it above her sex, just as he was about to undo the bindings there. But then, he looked at her, and noticed the fire in her eyes, burning so much brighter than any reflection of real one would.

- Astrid...! - Don't you want it? Gods would approve, it's a perfect... perfect moment...

She turned around again, hoping to see the light between the thick wall of trees that surrounded their house.

- Well, if so, then we are losing time, milady.

Astrid yelped again when Hiccup took her and lay her on the thick, fluffy furs, one of the few new spoils of hunts on the New Berk. He didn't bother with the last bindings of her corset, and went straight for her delicate panties, kissing her thick thighs, so ideal for the gift she wanted to give him.

- Hic-Hiccup, maybe-maybe don't... - I am not going to leave my lady unsatisfied. - he replied sternly, continuing his foreplay. - Oh, Hiccup...

Astrid threw her head back and let his subtle kisses coat her wet, overflowing sex. She straight out cried his name when his tongue dipped between her folds, revealing how wet she really was.

- I think you did your math right. - he kissed her folds - It's a good thing I didn't drink at all... - Hiccup, don't-don't let me wait... I want to do it all night, but the first... The first one has to be now!

Her husband slid onto her, and as soon as their lips met, her legs locked behind his back, as if her life depended on it. She moaned when his tip parted her soaking folds, and with his first thrust, she arched her back, aligning her sex to better suit their animalistic needs. a moment later she felt something underneath her back, and realised that their clothes, bundled together would serve as a makeshift pillow, shaping her body into an ideal position for her carnal desire.

But even then, Hiccup took it a bit further. He grabbed her legs and threw it on his shoulders, just so he could sink an inch  or two deeper inside her, an action Astrid welcomed with an unbridled "Yes!". her legs locked behind his neck this time, together with her hands, and in the intimate, tight position, the two began rocking their bodies, running against the time and Sun itself.

Every few seconds Astrid looked to her right, at the small window, and to her left to see shadows of the tree getting longer and longer, trying to find the right moment when they would disappear. but it was easier said than done, as with their biological needs came also the frivolous ones, when Hiccup sneaked his hand between their bodies just to stimulate her swollen num above her entrance.

Astrid lost her mind, kicking and scaring his shoulders, as they drew closer and closer to hers and his fulfilment. The two often finished at different moments, but this one? It had to be simultaneous, Astrid decided, there was no other way.

Astrid moaned, nervously shifting her stare between her husband and the frosted window, trying to postpone his release, despite her body demanding the pleasure that has been building up in her loins. Her needy, quickened, ragged breath coincided with his grunts, and only when she lost track of the Sun that hid behind the horizon, she dug her nails into Hiccup's neck and screamed her plea.

- N-Now! give me your seed! All-all of it!

Never to disappoint his lady, Hiccup gladly fulfilled her plea. He let out a prolonged, deep groan as his hips smashed against hers one final time, and he finally let go, flooding Astrid's fertile womb with streams of his seed, while her body arched under the pleasure that shook her body. Hiccup collapsed on top of her bosom, quickly trying to find her lips, while his body, twisted with hers, continued the sacred ritual they've been preparing for, sending more and more life-giving fluids inside her thirsty body.

Long minutes have passed, as their bodies shook together, and when the two opened their eyes, all they could see in the dimly lit room was the fire's reflections, dancing in their eyes. Hiccup was sure that Astrid cheeks have never look more flustered, the combination of heat from the fire, sultry atmosphere, and an even sultier passion that connected their bodies.

- Do you think it worked? - Hiccup sneaked a kiss between her breasts, knowing well that Astrid would jitter when he brushed a particularly sensitive spot - It better did. Otherwise I will be really pissed at the gods.

She cupped his face and pressed his head against her chest, still rising up and down, desperate for air she expelled when she cried his name.

- But still, I wasn't joking, Hiccup. - she suddenly added, catching his attention - I meant it when I said I want to make love all night.

He blinked.

- Not until the Sun rises again...

Hiccup's eyes opened wide just as he was about to kiss her breasts again, as the meaning of her words finally dawned on him.

- But... it's gonna be two weeks, maybe even fifteen days until... - I know. - Astrid cupped his face and tightened her grip on him - We've been gathering the supplies, and for the next two weeks, we're not gonna leave the house. And you...

She crossed her legs, locking them tightly behind his back, bringing his face inches away from hers.

- You're not gonna leave me.

To prove her point, she gave him a gentle kick to his butt, and with that, he started advancing again, seemingly delving deeper with each trust even though she thought he has reached his limit already, just to ensure he would plant his seed as close to her womb as possible. And though he already filled her once, he was more than happy to do it again.

As it turned out, Astrid really wasn't joking about her plan. Though the two did leave the house, of course - perhaps just to watch the northern lights against the dark sky of the short polar night - she was relentless with milking Hiccup of the chief's seed at least twice a day, ensuring that not a drop of his cum would be wasted, though she sometimes had to use her fingers to clean up after a particularly messy finish that overflowed her sex. Still, she was his wife, so it belonged to her, even if she has to preserve it in her belly...

Astrid never before believed what her mother or Valka told about women's instincts, until she awoken two weeks later to the first rays of newly reborn Sun. She felt ill, was sweaty, hot, though instead of her forehead burning, sudden warmth radiated from within her core that just a few hours earlier has been once more overfilled by Hiccup's virility. And when she placed her hand over it, she knew it has happened. She wouldn't even have to ask Gothi for her wheat seeds that she'd have to pee on to see if they'd sprout. She just... knew.

She turned to her husband, sleeping after another tiring session and though she was eager to tell him the news, she just closed her arms around him, sneaking a kiss to his cheek. And when he turned and closed his arm over her belly, he knew it too.

===========

Also, that “peeing on wheat seeds was a surprisingly reliable pregnancy test. 

[stargazerholland]

Home - Peter Parker

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary : You’re left to do an English assignment that catches you off guard, but Peter may or may not have been your inspiration.

Warnings: Cussing (let me know if you find any, though!)

Words: 3.2 k

What is home? The message was sprawled across the board as your English teacher, Mr. Gilloway stared at the class, eyebrows scrunched up and his hooked nose crinkled. The soft light bounced off of his bald head. 

“Since you all like to complain about wanting to go home, you might as well write down what is home. You can either write it as a descriptive piece, because I’d live to know why you want to go so badly,” he said sarcastically, “Or whatever comes to mind. It’s due in a month, so Flash, you better not complain about not having completed your work. You will also have to present in front of the class just so I can hear your wonderful voices grace my god-awful days. Class dismissed.” 

You had no idea as to what is home to you, as you’ve never felt at home wherever you go. It seemed as though you never stuck to one place. A million thoughts ran through your mind thinking of a solution as to how you were going to come up with an answer, when you meet up with your best friends, Ned Leeds and Peter Parker near the school’s overcrowded parking lot.

“Hey, Y/N! Are you ok? You look a bit.. distracted.” Ned stated, his voice laced with concern. Ned always looked out for you, right after Peter. The duo had welcomed you into their “super secret that no other soul should ever be told cult” with open arms, when you had first moved to Queens. Overtime, the three of you were inseparable, the school knowing you as the three who would be sitting in the quiet, snug corner of the cafeteria fighting over who was the actual hero in Star Wars. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just thrown ‘off the rails’, if that’s even a saying,” You created air quotes to try to emphasize it, “it’s just Mr. Gilloway being a pain in the ass with his ‘deep and meaningful projects’ that are supposed to bring us to a realization of some unknown idea to our ‘uneducated minds’, whatever he means.” The Polynesian boy smiled, his pudgy cheeks showing off the rosiness of his almond skin tone.

“Peter and I both told you not to take AP English and look at where it got you, huh,” he taunted, as you looked to see both of them give their signature ‘I told you so’ faces, with their eyebrows raised and an amused smile, “just goes to show that we’re always right.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you moved on to go home, 

“Yeah, yeah, thanks mom. I’m gonna head out now. See you in chem tomorrow.” Before you left to catch the subway, Peter grabbed your wrist and said, 

“Wanna come over? May misses you and we’d love to have you for the evening.”

You quickly nodded in affirmation and sent your mom a text to let her know about your whereabouts. The ride to his place was the same as always, sharing the headphones to listen to AC/DC, you complaining about Flash being your lab partner, and Peter sharing the previous night’s events during his patrol. Everything felt right at the moment, as if he was your safety blanket. Peter had the ability to radiate this sense of comfort even if you were across the room from him. 

The subway finally stopped at your final destination, and you soon found yourself in the small, cozy apartment. It was the same as always, the soft grey throw blanket draped over the back of the worn out brown couch, and the smell of charred bread in the air. It was simple, just like the family. You sent a simple wave to Peter’s Aunt May and followed Peter to his room to start on your Chemistry homework. 

Hours later, there were papers filled with math calculations and Chemistry formulas scattering the small room, as Peter was munching on some cheese-flavored potato chips. 

“Did you get seventeen moles of copper nitrate for number 8?” Peter inquired, causing you to let out a groan.

“It’s seventeen? I got twenty-nine. Pete, I’m a hopeless teenager who doesn’t understand a single thing about this right now,” You heard a chuckle across from you and looked up, only to find Peter staring at you, something was different about his expression, but you still threw you eraser at him. Peter simply replied, 

“Instead of complaining, you could have just asked. Lemme see what’s wrong… Ah,” he went on to explain the confusing lesson, however everything he said became sets of useless words as you were focusing on what was happening to you. Your entire body filled with warmth, while your heart was beating feverishly, like you’d just ran a marathon. The constant feeling of elevation in your stomach was overbearing, it felt like the spark on a tungsten before it reached the gunpowder for fireworks. It was different to what authors wrote in their stories, it was so much more than what you’d imagine, but it didn’t feel like love. The constant overcame your mind until you heard Peter call your name,  

“Y/N, Y/N, are you still alive? May’s calling us for dinner, it’s Thai Food Thursday.” For the rest of the night, you could feel yourself being distant and distracted from the conversation, all thanks to Peter. 

A week later, you still hadn’t made any progress on your English paper, which made you dread English class even more than you had before. Your past made it harder to even get an understanding of what home even was when all you could think of was your father. 

Your father was always distant from you and your mother, acting like a guest at a bed and breakfast where he was only there for the night. Some weeks, he’d have to leave for a business trip, not coming back for a few weeks, or at least you thought that until you found him at a city nearby while being on a class field trip the fifth grade. He was with a familiar woman who you’d known growing up, Aunt Lydia, your mother’s younger sister. It turned out that your father had become infatuated with her in the duration of his first marriage, eventually starting a new family with Aunt Lydia and being much happier with her. The news spread like wildfire in a forest, eventually getting to your mother last. It broke you to know that your father would rather spend his days with some other kids than with you, another woman instead of your mother. After a short 2 weeks, the two of you had packed your bags and moved to Queens to forget the past, making it seem as if everything you knew from before was now supposed to be thrown out of a window. The project was no use when now all you could think of was a cold space where tension was intermingled in the air, and pain stained into the deepest threads of the couch pillows when you thought of home. 

The library was almost completely empty, which was usual considering that the people of New York had better things to do than spend their time at the library, except for you, Peter, and now Ned. It was your annual reader’s binge night, where you’d all spend the afternoon reading a book from start to end, and then go out for a sub at the small, family-owned deli from around the corner. It was a tradition, and allowed you to bask in each other’s presence without the hassle of having to talk. The sounds of iced coffee being sipped and the constant whoosh of pages could be heard throughout the day. After the author had infuriated you enough with their cliche-filled sci-fi novel, you looked up to break the silence, until the sight of the room stopped you. More specifically, Peter. The sunlight shining in through the gigantic windows had illuminated the small features of his fair, pale face, like the freckles that were sprinkled all over his nose and cheeks just as the course sugar on sugar cookies. His chestnut brown hair became an array of colors as the copper undertones shining through, as he was concentrating on the book before him. Peter’s state of peace made you feel safe, as if nothing bad was going to happen to you. The time flew by as if it were like seconds as you continued to take in his image, until you felt a twinge on the side of your head, looking to your side to find a plastic straw on the ground.

“Y/N, you can stare at Peter after finishing the book. Now hurry up or else Mr. Delmar’s is gonna close up shop before we even finish!” Ned exclaimed as he smirked at your actions. Peter softly chuckled as you flipped off Ned, before all three of you went back to the book. While you mindlessly flipped pages, all that you could ponder was the same weird feeling that you felt at Peter’s house. It was almost as if you belonged there, as if you weren’t an outcast who had came out of nowhere. There was something about the feelings you had that you couldn’t comprehend completely, but it was becoming more and more prominent to you each day. Whatever the universe is trying to tell me, it sure is fucking me over, you thought, just as you saw your best friends close their books. Peter saw your expression, it was evident that you were deep in thought, and asked, 

“You okay, Y/N?” To which you simply replied in the most New York way possible, 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Wanna go grabba sub now?”

You picked up the group’s sandwiches and headed over when you heard Ned and Peter talking about you, 

“I don’t know, Ned, Y/N is hard to be around when she can’t even take a hint,” You stopped dead in your tracks, like gravity was pulling you down and you weren’t able to move your feet. It felt like the day at the school field trip, everything you once knew was fabricated and far from what you thought your friendship was. 

“Peter, you’re going to have to tell her someday. It’s hurting you and it's probably gonna hurt her too in the future,” you took your chance and walked in before any more damage could be done to your friendship. 

“Whatcha talkin’ about?” You said as you sat down. The two shook their heads, muttering words that you couldn’t make out, and started a new conversation. Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn’t help but wonder about what you’d done wrong, guilt and fear flowing through your veins as if your blood had been replaced with it. 

You  invited Peter over the next day for dinner to repay him for when you ate at his house last time, and in hopes to try to mend whatever tension Peter was feeling. The dingy apartment that you’d been living in for the past 5 years was usually dull and quiet, your mom still hadn’t comprehended how her sister could betray her and you were left trying to feel the same way as she did when you were younger, when your family wasn’t broken. While eating the burnt ends of your chicken parm, the English project was still running on your mind. Of course Peter knew you were thinking about it, so naturally, he had to ask how the English assignment was coming along. 

“I can’t connect with anyone or anything that relates to my home. I am genuinely convinced that literally everyone hates me, and soon I’ll be living alone with my three cats in a studio apartment!” You complained as your arms flew up in exaggeration. Peter, on the other hand, seemed frustrated, with his eyes in annoyance and his knuckles turning white from clenching them so hard. Peter cried,

“Well, maybe if you would just open up and try to let more people into your life, then you wouldn’t be here right now!” At this point, the tension you tried to get rid of was now a thick fog that couldn’t be seen through. 

“That’s impossible, Peter! You, out of all people, know it’s hard for me to get close with someone, when practically no one finds me bearable,” you looked at him with anger, “not even you.” Peter was taken aback, 

“How did you hear that?” 

“So it was true,” you scoffed as you felt the wet trail of plump tears run down your cheeks, “gee, thanks a lot, Pete.” He stood up, intimidating you, as he boomed,

“Well, yeah, it is. All you ever do is push away anyone whoever tries to get close to you. You’ve built this thick barrier around everyone and it stupid. Grow up and stop acting like a four year-old, it's annoying,” and immediately walked out the tiny apartment’s door. 

You sunk down in your chair, the tears flowing faster and add onto the pain-ridden apartment. There goes someone else I love, you pondered, I love you, Peter, more than I’ve loved anyone else. 

Your English assignment was now due in a week and a half's worth of time and you’d barely had an outline or a single idea as to what you wanted to write about. For multiple nights, you would just sit in front of your grey, busted laptop and stare at the blank document until you’d figured it was now time to sleep. Multiple sentences that were once on the document soon disappeared by the click of a button immediately after.

As sleep-deprived teenagers rushed to leave the room, you went up to Mr. Gilloway, intimidated by the hunch on his back that formed every time he was scrolling down the New York Times about another political outburst from the Senator. It wasn’t that Mr. Gilloway was bad in person, it was just that he tended to be very unfiltered. All it took was one glance from him and you knew that you were going to take in the bitter and harshful words about not working on the assignment. But you took the leap anyway, and took all the courage you had in you to ask,

“Mr. Gilloway, I don’t know what to write for the assignment. I keep thinking about it, but nothing is coming to mind and I really have no clue as to what home is.” Squeezing you eyes, you braced for the string of words that were meaningless to him.  

“Well, what was it like for you to be at home? Anyone particular who comes to mind? Or perhaps a memory that just replays over and over in your head? Remember, Y/N that home is not a definitive object, you can make it anything you want. It could be the simplest idea, or something over the top, but that is what it means to you. I have full trust in you to go with your guts and write wha’ is home to you,” Mr. Gilloway gently replied. His response was out of character compared to who he really was. It was unrecognizable, sympathy and gentleness was the last thing that would come across anyone’s mind when they thought of Mr. Gilloway. Unable to form words, you nodded your head, only to hear, “Now go, I need to catch up on what our jackass of a Senator we have right now.” 

It wasn’t until you got onto your laptop once again when you knew what to write about. You finally had an idea. 

It was finally the day of the presentation and your nerves got the best of you. The past week was more muted, with evenings spent writing the English assignment, and the daytime spent studying in the library in hopes to avoid Peter. It was also the most emotionally draining week, knowing you couldn’t just go up and tell him how you really felt about him. 

Y/N, it’s your turn. And Flash, puh-LEASE keep the flirting for someplace else, my classroom is not a ‘Singles Mingle’,” Mr. Gilloway said. The voice at the back of your head kept telling you don’t mess up, don’t mess up, don’t mess up. The anxiety of sharing something so intimate with a group of bored teenagers was nerve wracking, so much so that your hands were quivering. 

“Home is an abstract idea, and to most people, it is their place to go to sleep, eat, and repeat. In my entire life, I'd never felt like I was at home until just recently when I came to know how I know I am at home. Home is a blend of emotions, where there are multiple feelings every time you’re there, A sense of belonging, where no matter how different, broken, or mismanaged  a person is, they still know that the very spot will always let them be themselves. Home is where a person feels comfort and safety, where they know that they will be supported and consoled through all the times you’ve been through. A sense of adoration that lingers in the air, making a person feel loved for who they are. The idea that a person knows who they are when they’re at this place, or with this person, makes us realize that this very place is our home. My home is with someone who I’ve known for a while, and even a glance into their brown eyes makes me feel complete. As they always say, home is where the heart lies.” 

You looked around the room to see blank stares and an unusual smile from Mr. Gilloway, but it was relieving to feel the overbearing weight of not knowing yourself being lifted off your shoulders. 

Once class had ended, you heard your name being called by none other than Peter. 

“Was your speech about me?” Peter had a look of desperation and hope, “I feel like home to you?” How’d he listen? You thought, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  

“I asked Mr. Gilloway,” Peter had read your mind, “Y/N, I only said I couldn’t bear you because I’m so deeply in love with you, but you never see that. It’s kind of hard to be friendzoned all the time, y’know?” 

The moment you had awaited all along finally came in the least expected way, nor was it how everyone else described it to be. There were no fireworks in the background but instead, it was just as if the world had stopped around you. 

“I love you too, Peter,” you whispered. 

“So is it true?” With a simple nod and a small smile, you said, 

“Yeah, it is about you, Peter.” A soft smile creeps up his face as he pulls you into his arms. It felt right, as if your body was perfectly molded to fit into his embrace. You decided to take the risk and pulled away, placing your hands over his pillowy cheeks, and pulled him towards you. You placed your lips on his, they were soft and smooth, with a hint of vanilla from the chapstick you made him use after seeing how rough they were a few months back. Peter kissed back, trying to empty all the love and adoration he had kept inside of him. 

You couldn’t tell what the future held for you two, but you made a vow, right then and there that you would protect him with your entire heart, help him after his patrol’s and night, and most importantly, keep him in your heart for the rest of your life. 

This was your home, right here with Peter. 

A/N: Hi! I hope you liked this piece, I’ve had a a writer’s block for almost 2 years now, so to write this was a bit of a struggle, but it’s all good! Feel free to send over any requests or criticism. I also have to give an honorary mention to @wazzupmrstark​! Her INCREDIBLE works gave me a bit of a push and inspo to get back to writing, so thank you so so much Kaili! (i’ll stop annoying you guys, byee :) )

[lovehugsandcandy]

One-on-One: Decisions (Colt x MC)

A/N:  Third one-shot for basketball!Colt. I have two more planned after this.

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~1,500 words

Rating: R? (Swearing. One suggestive line. Idiots.)

Summary: Colt should never talk to the media...but Ellie will allow it this one time.

Ellie set up the media alert fairly early in their relationship; it allowed her to catch threatening situations before they boiled over into irrecoverable issues that inevitably would involve her bailing out her idiot boyfriend-yet again.

It allowed her to call him right after he lost his first game this season, interrupting the complete destruction of a locker room that could have resulted in a suspension. It was the reason she sped north, weaving frantically through rush hour traffic for hours, when a gruesome Achilles tear had prematurely aborted his senior year and he had to redshirt so he could actually play out his final season. It was the reason she convinced him he should never attend the post-game press conferences. Ever.

And it was now furiously dinging over.

She groaned and reached for the phone, eyes still closed, slapping the sheets once, twice, three times until she finally clasped her fingers around plastic. Her eyes fluttered open, bleary and slow, as she internally prepared herself for whatever foolish shit he had pulled.

However, before she pulled up the browser, her phone rang; it was her dad. She declined and tried to pull up the search engine when the phone rang again. Ingrid. She frowned and declined. When her dad called again, she raced to her computer, sinking suspicion that the plethora of alerts and multiple phone calls were no coincidence.

Where was he again? Texas.

She scanned the gossip rags, relieved to find nothing damaging, and then navigated to ESPNU. Oh Lord, a video. He wasn’t supposed to be talking to the media. 

She hit play.

“Your third Nationals Title is looking more and more like a lock. What are your plans for after graduation?”

Colt shrugged, looking directly at the camera, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I don’t know. Maybe the draft. My wife’s gonna go to Yale for grad school though so, no matter what, I’m gonna be in the Northeast.”

She blinked. It was overall a calculated move, signaling to anyone interested in drafting him that there were only a few pro teams he would consider. But she was more caught by the word choice. But did he just call her his...

The phone rang again, and this time she connected to her dad screeching over the phone line, “Did you get married?”

~~~~~~

She waited up for him. He usually crashed in the city once their plane landed, ditching the team bus to crash in her apartment before heading back upstate, and they would spend a few carefree days lounging at her apartment and strolling the city streets as if they weren’t facing impending graduations that would thrust them into a future they could never prepare for.

Sometimes, she would greet him with pizza and commiseration over a tough loss.

Other times, she would greet him with a shared bath, ostensibly drawn to ease sore muscles, but always ending with them both soaked and sated, huddled close under her covers, reconnecting in the most satisfying of ways.

This time, she perched on the sofa, toe ticking by the seconds, mentally mapping his route through airport corridors, then where the Dryve would crawl down crowded city streets, to where he would walk through the lobby, up the three flights of stairs, and turn the spare key in her lock. She seethed with every imagined step.

Finally, twenty-three minutes after landing, 1,387 furious taps of her toe against hardwood, jingling sounded outside her door and the knob turned, opening to reveal a broad-shouldered figure that she was going to murder.

“Hey!” He dropped his duffel bag on the floor, locking the door behind him. “You waited up?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

He froze, forward progress halting as his jaw dropped at the venom dripping from her words. “Uh… baby? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Her eyebrows climbed her forehead, and she stood, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s wrong?!?!”

He blinked, mouth opening and closing, and she could practically see him reflecting on his day, the day prior, hell, the last week as he tried and failed to figure out why she was glaring daggers at him. “Uh… are you mad that I fouled out? Because, I mean, the game was over and there was forty seconds left in the quarter and-”

“No. Not that.”

“Uh…” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Is it because I told Logan that if he sat next to me on the plane, I would cut his hair off in his sleep?”

She rubbed her hands over her eyes. “I had no idea you said that, but I appreciate you adding it to the list.”

“Ellie, just fucking tell me. I don’t know what the fuck you’re pissed off about.”

“Your interview.”

He blinked blankly down at her. “What interview?”

“After the game? About your plans once you graduate?”

“I thought those…” He paused, uncertain. “I thought those were our plans. Are… are they not?”

She winced at the stab of guilt; she did not mean to imply that they wouldn’t move in together after school. “Urgh, yes, they are but you… Colt, you called me your wife.”

“That’s what you’re pissed about? Seriously?”

“Yes! It’s not true and my phone has been literally ringing off the hook, and some ESPN talking head devoted ten minutes to it during one of their trashy shows and-”

“Elie, we’re basically-”

“We are not-”

“Babe, I just meant-”

“Don’t you babe me!” She stomped closer to glare up at him. “This is why Logan is the one who talks to the press.”

“What? Fuck him. And what was I supposed to say? She cornered me!”

“Oh, how about anything but that?”

“Come on, babe.”

“Don’t even.”

“Who cares what the hell they say on tv?”

“Colt…” she put a hand to her temple. “You created not only confusing press for you but also drama. For me! My dad is convinced we eloped.”

“Babe, it’s like wifey. Everyone knows I meant it like that, come on.”

“No, no one knew that.”

“Come on, wifey,” he pouted.

“Jesus Christ. Don’t you dare-”

“Wifey…” he complained while she bristled, traitorous lips twitching regardless of how hard she tried to fight the smile down.

“Stop calling me that!” 

“Oh, wifey. You-”

She groaned, jumping away to stalk into the kitchen, yelling “Oh my God!” Footsteps followed her and she spun, glaring. She tried to stay annoyed, she did, but he was fucking ridiculous, lips curved in an exaggerated frown and eyes brimming with mockery.

“Wifey....”

“I swear to God!”

His hands wrapped found her hipbones, pulling her close to kiss her neck before whispering in her ear, “Wiiiifeey.”

“Jesus!” She pushed him away, barely able to get the words out through hitching giggles. “Why do I put up with you?”

“Because you love me.” She couldn’t speak through her laughter, but she hoped the fond grin stretching over her face betrayed her thoughts. “How about wifey like marry me?”

She froze. “... What?”

“Marry me.” Time stopped and the air left Ellie’s lungs.

“This isn’t…”

“Ellie, marry me.” His eyes were intent on hers, and she had to lean against the counter to hold herself up.

“You…” she stuttered. “You asked me that before.”

That brought him up short. “I did?”

“Kinda.” Her shaking hands found the counter top behind her, and she held on for dear life. “When you got your concussion junior year against Hartfield.”

“When I was in the hospital for two days?!?”

“When you were bleeding out on the court.”

“Oh. The perfect time for major life decisions.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Well, what did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything! You passed out!”

His mouth dropped open. “You left me hanging?”

“What.”

“Seriously, you just ignored me, what the heck, El?” he jeered. “You can’t leave a man hanging like that!”

“What the-” She rolled her eyes. “Colt!”

“Well, what do you say now?”

“You don’t… you don’t have a ring.” His lips stretched into a self-satisfied smirk. “You have a ring.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the piece of jewelry and holding it out between two fingers. “What? You want me to do this right? Get down on one knee and all that?” She couldn’t even answer, eyes welling with tears; he rocked back on his heels. “Uh, Ellie? You gonna answer me?”

“You-” Her voice trailed off as the tears started falling, rivulets over her cheeks, her smile; she tried to blink them away, tried to speak, tried to do something, but she could only stand there, watching him gaze at her in absolute adoration. Finally, she gave up and just nodded, slowly at first, then frantic, giggling, leaping  into his arms, not even caring that she was crying all over his university tracksuit as he cradled her close.

When she finally thought she had control of her face, she glanced up and the smile on his face made her heart skip.

At least until he spoke. “I knew you would wanna lock this up.”

“Don’t make me immediately regret my decision.”

He pulled back to shoot her a cocky grin, eyes gleaming. “You’re not gonna.”

She only smiled back, thinking, No, I’m not gonna.

.

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@desireepow-1986​ @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn @thequeenofcronuts @lilyofchoices @choicesarehard

Colt

ROD

@omgjasminesimone @mskaneko @lovemychoices @burnsoslow

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[smolbeandrabbles]

Driving Home For Christmas - Johnnie x Reader (Prime Mover)

Holiday Fic 3! 🚛🎁

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​

Author’s Note: Sooooo... this song was just staring me in the face and I didn’t even clock that this was the easiest connection until super late. When I sat worrying about how the heck I was supposed to fill all my December slots!! 🤦‍♀️🙈

As a warning, this one is certainly Christmas related, rather than winter related. As the next one will be

This is also the same relationship as in ‘End Up With You’ and ‘My Oh My’.

Disclaimer: Prime Mover & associated characters not mine / I capped the cap! / lyrics not mine.

Premise: Everything seems to be going too well for Johnnie on his last run of the year, until he hits traffic...

Words: 2331

Warnings: Swearing / all the joys of your parents hating your S/O during the festive season / sexual connotations look I told ya

_____ I'm driving home for Christmas Oh, I can't wait to see those faces I'm driving home for Christmas, yea Well I'm moving down that line

And it's been so long But I will be there I sing this song To pass the time away Driving in my car Driving home for Christmas

It's gonna take some time But I'll get there Top to toe in tailbacks Oh, I got red lights on the run But soon there'll be a freeway yeah Get my feet on holy ground

Driving home for Christmas With a thousand memories I take look at the driver next to me He's just the same Just the same

Top to toe in tailbacks Oh, I got red lights all around I'm driving home for Christmas, yea Get my feet on holy ground So I sing for you Though you can't hear me When I get trough Oh and feel you near me Driving in my car Driving home for Christmas

---

This hadn’t exactly been the plan. Nowhere near the plan. In fact, if you had it the way you wanted it, Johnnie wouldn’t even have been pulled out on this last run of the Holiday season. He was supposed to have got back and been done roughly a week ago. Only a few days ago, as he’d been kicking around the garage to hang out with you, Phil had hauled him into one last over-nighter. Johnnie could probably have said no, and afforded to. And you, staring helplessly at him, hoped that he might. But he didn’t - and part of you knew that he wouldn’t. Johnnie would take work when he could get it - that’s what he always did. You let him know how unhappy you were about it, but he had calculated for this, and all he did was smile, showing you his worked out route: “It’s okay! I’ll be home! I’ll be home!” He was due back mid-afternoon Christmas Eve and you had held him to that. In fact, Johnnie had been running pretty well up until about lunch time, he’d got all the way there in relatively light traffic and made good time - the final drop off was complete and now he was driving empty back home he could at least lay on the gas a little. He made sure to update you every chance he got - and you always reminded him to take rest breaks. Johnnie bent the rules often enough, you didn’t need him in trouble just before the holidays - especially not REAL trouble. By the way you’d both calculated it, he might have been back even earlier than expected. And that got your hopes up. Unfortunately, as the day had worn on, Johnnie realised that he was not the only one going home… everyone this side of Australia seemed to be heading in the same direction. And suddenly he found himself stuck in tailbacks and holiday traffic. “Aw… Geez…” The radio was playing the appropriate festive music, only - sitting in the Australian summer heat - Johnnie couldn’t really say he was feeling the lyrics when all they talked about was winter wonderlands and wrapping up warm. No thanks. The one upside was, with only minor movement, he could message you a little more. But he didn’t want to worry you too much and stress you about traffic. So he let you know that he was in it - but nowhere near how bad it really was. It couldn’t be this terrible all the way back home, right? It had to let up eventually… Johnnie would have nothing to worry about. And worrying you any further would just cause him unnecessary problems. *** Your original idea was to wait for him at the depot until he arrived and then head over to your parents. But as it got later and later, he was nowhere to be found and you were pretty much the last person standing - realising the futility when even Phil started switching the lights off - you understood that you should be heading off yourself. In reality you didn’t think Johnnie or your mum would mind this predicament so much, considering how much they despised each other. But as you’d been telling both of them all week to ‘please be nice to each other! It’s the holidays!’ you figured you’d completely wasted your breath. Well… then again, you probably would have anyway. You checked your phone once more as Phil practically had to drag you out as he locked up. Nothing. You sighed gently; hopefully that meant he was at least moving again. You just hoped Johnnie wouldn’t do anything reckless… You knew better. Tapping out a quick text, you slipped into your own car, turning on the ignition and hoping you weren’t met with traffic of your own. The wrath of your mother at this time in the evening, considering it was already dark, would be bad enough. ‘I’m heading out to my parents now. See you back at home! Stay safe babe, I love you xx’ *** You barely got the chance to knock at the door of your parents’ house before your mother wrenched open the door. Her eyes were narrowed at you standing alone and she peered out onto the driveway, expecting to see Johnnie exiting the car or standing a little way off looking reluctant to be a part of this. When she realised he wasn’t there, her face softened and she looked back to you. “Hi Mum…” Your hands were in your pockets, “Happy Christmas-!” “Come in, come in!” She opened the door wide and as soon as it was closed behind you, she started, bustling passed you, her finger jabbing the air: “I TOLD you he was useless! I TOLD you he wouldn’t get home and he’d make my little girl cry-!” You weren’t crying, but you supposed you couldn’t exactly hide the disappointment on your face. Rolling your eyes you scoffed, trudging in after her, “Mum, he’s just running late. He says there’s really bad traffic. I’ll have him back this evening… You don’t want him here anyway-!” “No, and you should stay the night! Have Christmas with us!” “Mum.” You were firm as she turned back to you, “You know I can’t do that to him.” “I don’t know what you see in him.” “I don’t think there’s anything I could say that would persuade you to see anything in him.” And that was the honest truth, Johnnie could turn into a full-blown Saint and your mother would probably still hate him. You’d long since given up trying to change her opinions of him - after all, hers weren’t changing yours. Sure, there was some truth - and legitimate reasoning - behind her concerns. But making it her personal vendetta to hate him hardly helped the situation. Sometimes it just made you hold onto him a little stronger. And perhaps you would argue with her, but it was Christmas, and that was the last thing you were going to do. Besides, you were growing pretty tired of this type of bickering. Your dad appeared in the doorway, “Hey sweetheart!” “Hey dad!” You gave a genial wave. You were never exactly sure where he stood with the trucker you dated. You thought the appropriate word might be ‘tolerated’... He also peered around, “I thought Johnnie was coming?” You watched your mother instinctively glare at the mention of his name and shook your head; you had told them you would call in as soon as he was back. At this point you’d regretted planning anything. “Yes, but he hasn’t returned yet and it was getting late. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t going to stop by.” “Ahhh… He got caught in that big smash up?” As if that was any help with your panicking about his safety, ever. “What!?” “It’s caused back ups everywhere in the region, he’s probably in traffic there. It was all over the news.” “Still bad? On Christmas Eve – that’s just… that’s horrible is everyone okay?!” You father shook his head, “No. All clear now. Seems to be no major injuries.” Thank goodness for that, you breathed a sigh of relief; “Good, I hope he’s moving.” Your mother scoffed, “Probably at some bar somewhere-” “Mum, Please. It’s Christmas!” You tried your hardest not to snap at her, it took a surprising amount of control; “I know he’s not here, but please can we talk about something else?!” She stepped forward and took your face in her hands with a concerned sigh, “Oh, Y/N… One day you’re going to see what I see… and you’ll realise…” “...Maybe, but it’s not today Ma. Today Johnnie’s still my boyfriend and I still love him. And I want him home!” She let you go, and pushed passed your father into the kitchen, “Well now, both of you sit! What was the point in me preparing this food if we’re not going to eat it!?” You shrugged yourself out of your jacket, throwing it on the coat stand and ran a hand through your hair, groaning. Hopefully that was the definitive change in subject that meant Johnnie wouldn’t be brought up for the rest of the evening. And you’d certainly be praying on that one! *** Johnnie rolled the truck into the depot just as the clock ticked around to midnight. It would certainly be Christmas Day before he got back home to you. He was exhausted and he parked up, sat in his cab for a minute, head against the steering wheel groaning. At least that would be it for this year. He could relax for the next week. Clambering out of the cab, he gave his truck the once over, it looked fine - and it wasn’t like anyone was around to check it anyway. He yawned as he strolled slowly over to his car; the only one left on the lot. Rubbing his eyes, he slid into yet another driver's seat and turned on the ignition. This journey wouldn’t be so bad though, all he had to do was drive across town to your place. He fished his mobile out of his pocket - Johnnie had felt the vibration before, but had opted for simply getting the journey done instead of pulling in anywhere to check it. Aside from a bunch of Christmas well wishes, there was one from you saying you’d left for your parents. Well, now he was here that much was obvious - Johnnie thought for a minute, would you still be there? You could well be, but what would be the point in going over? He doubted they would want him crashing the party. Best to leave you to it, especially as they weren’t his biggest advocates. Instead Johnnie opted to drive home, and tapped a text back: ‘Ok, at depot, see you at home. Also sorry I couldn’t be there x’ Throwing his phone back in his pocket he pulled the car out of the lot and breathed a sigh of relief. He was almost home, he was almost back to you. You checked the text as soon as you received it, with a little smile. He could apologise for not being there all he wanted, but you really knew he’d only have been with you begrudgingly. In reality the traffic meant both your mum and Johnnie had dodged a bullet tonight. And, whilst you were a little disappointed not to have him back on time, you thought that might have been better for all of you. Finally you might have a nice peaceful Christmas - and not an argument to be had! You didn’t even bother texting him back, he’d be home before he got it anyway. And you couldn’t wait. *** When Johnnie pulled into the drive, he was almost surprised to see lights on in the house. ‘Oh? She’s back?’ Your parents didn’t want to keep you for Christmas then? They had released you! Johnnie smiled gently, at least that wouldn’t mean waiting up for your return. Although he realised you were probably waiting up for his... He opened the front door with a yell: “Babe, I’m home!” Expecting to have to catch you into a hug as you ran to him. Instead he was greeted with a call of “Welcome home!” from elsewhere in the house. He waited, but when you still didn’t appear, he frowned. That was odd; was one night away simply not long enough for you to enact your signature move? Nah, surely not! Johnnie moved through the house slowly peering into each room trying to figure out where you were - making you eventually call out again, “I’m back here!” He paused, and tipped his head with a little smirk; Oh. Bedroom, right! You probably were really waiting up for him then - and if you were comfortable in bed, he could understand your unwillingness to get out and run to him. Opening the bedroom door, Johnnie understood everything, and bit his lip a little too hard at the sight he was greeted with. Instead of being tucked up in bed you were lying provocatively across it, in fairly sheer - and festive themed - lingerie. The little look on your face was playful as your eyes met his. He tried to hold your eyes for a moment before he swept your body - the artwork of all your tattoos on full display. About the only places you didn’t have any were your face, neck and hands. Other than that, your body was a canvas of gorgeous intricate patterns. He knew the list of stories for each piece was endless, and even Johnnie didn’t think he’d heard all of them yet. You sighed seductively, rolling onto your stomach, propping your head up on your hands and swaying your legs in the air, waiting on him to make a move. “You got any new ones?” You laughed through your nose; “In 2 days? No. But I wouldn’t object to you kissing all your favourites.” “They’re all my favourites.” “Mhm?” Your tongue ran out across your lips as his eyes met yours again. “Is this my Christmas present?” You smirked, “Noooo… but you can have that if you’re good.” Johnnie took a step forward, wicked glint in his eyes as his smirk matched yours; “Well I can’t promise you I’m not about to do something that’ll get me put on the naughty list.” That only made you smirk even harder, and you knelt up, pulling him to you by his jacket. Johnnie’s hands rested on your hips for about half a second, before he started running them over your body. It felt so good to have them back on your skin. You grazed your lips to his, pulling away teasingly when he attempted to deepen the kiss, whisper seductive: “Aw, well, you should let me be the judge of that. I certainly won’t tell anyone.”

---

Thank you for reading! On the home stretch now-! 3 to go!🎉

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 1.4 - Young Yunichika

4. MISCONDUCT

Translation Notes

1. Bon refers to a young man from a well-to-do family

2. These are lyrics from the opening theme for the famous volleyball anime, Attack No.1

3. I know nothing about Attack No.1 so I have no idea what this is referring to. The original line is “ヒロイン訛ってるって”. If you know anything about this, let me know

4. The kanji for Meisei is 銘誠.   銘 from 座右の銘 (means favorite motto) and 誠 is pronounced makoto by itself

5. Meisei-chuu as in Meisei Middle School

Previous || Index || Next

Haijima Kimichika was an idiot. No, his grades overall weren’t that bad. He was slightly above middling for his third semester finals. However, Kuroba was dumbfounded when he saw the breakdown of that “slightly above middling.”

In regards to math and social studies, he was well above the average, and in fact, he was at the top of the class in his grade. Math, ninety-five. Social studies, ninety-nine—that was the first time he ever saw ninety-nine on an exam paper. He was taken aback by the brilliance of the two 9’s next to each other.

But, things didn’t look good from there. Science, seventy-three. English, sixty. His marks around here were so normal that it made you wonder what his high marks in math and social studies were. Apparently, his strong areas were unusually inclined towards calculation and memorization.  

Japanese,

Thirty points.

…They really were unusually inclined.

“Ooh, there’s a whole row of x’s here. What a nice view.”

It was a question about close reading a novel. The answers to “What are the emotional states of the characters”-type questions were continuously absurd, and the way the x’s were written was becoming increasingly desperate, as if to represent his Japanese teacher’s emotional state.

“For the question ‘Please answer in eighty words or less why you think the king forgives Melos,’ you answered, ‘Melos was naked      the cow,’. I can see the signs of suffering from trying to write a little more, but not being able to write a sentence and getting frustrated. …Cow?”

“Shut up. You’re always joking about people’s exam answers.”

“Ow ow ow!”

Kuroba groaned as he fell prostrate on the exam papers spread out between his legs with a weight pressed tightly against his back. The other club members laughed at the two stretching as a pair.

“You shouldn’t laugh at other people, Yuni. You got forty-two in math and fifty-five in social studies.”

“Hey, don’t read it aloud. This is an invasion of privacy.”

“Japanese…oh? Eighty-seven. Not bad.”

“For real?”

His back lightened with Haijima’s upset-sounding voice. He lifted his body with a self-satisfied look that said “Fufufu. Japanese is the only thing this guy’s good at,” but Haijima, who snatched and returned Kuroba’s Japanese exam paper, once again pressed down on his back tightly with his entire upper body while staring at his answers with a slightly displeased look on his face. Kuroba grumbled “Ow ow ow” while facing the floor in an open-legged forward bending position.

“Why did you answer the cow question like this? I don’t get it at all.”

“First, let go of the cow…I think the first issue is that no cows appear in the story. I’m getting worried about whether or not you can get into high school.”

He briefly wondered if one could get into school through a volleyball recommendation, but even if one could, it didn’t matter because there was no chance of their weak club reaching the point where they could get noticed in a big tournament. If Haijima was in his previous middle school, recommendations might come, however—he hadn’t asked Haijima himself, but there was no doubt that he had been in a fairly strong volleyball club with a decent coach. He had no idea what a full-scale stretching regimen was until he started practicing with Haijima. Next, Kuroba laid on his back as Haijima took his legs and thoroughly stretched them.

I thought that since Haijima would have nothing left if you took volleyball away from him, it would be his greatest desire to go to a strong volleyball school, but…

Haijima Kimichika was a volleyball fanatic.

The ban on club activities, which had been suspended a week before finals, had been lifted, and they held a practice day at once. With people turning up once they knew it was active, the boys’ volleyball team, which used to be as good as non-existent, had more or less taken on the appearance of club activities recently. With just barely six people, they still haven’t been in a match yet.

It was when they stood up and stretched their backs after finishing their brief stretching session.

“Kuroba, how tall are you now?”

Haijima said while looking up at his hair whorl.

“Hmm? Didn’t I say I was one-seventy-three?”

“When did you measure that?”

“Um…in fall, I think…November?”

He tamped down his hair whorl, but his bed hair bobbed back up. He felt depressed when he wondered if he had been exposing this hair to people all day since morning.

There was a scale on the door frame of the gym equipment room that could be used to measure height, and was used to compare heights for fun during club activities and gym class. It was probably the work of students from decades ago. It was the culmination of very precise work, with each millimeter being carved out from one-fifty to one-eighty centimeters with a utility knife.

“One-seventy-five-point-zero.”

Putting an empty powdered drink box to the top of Kuroba’s head, Haijima read the scale out loud.

“Ooh, I grew two centimeters?”

“My turn.”

They exchanged places and now it was Haijima with his back to the scale.

“Don’t raise your heels. Um, one-seventy-two-point…seven.”

“Ah. I grew too.”

But, Haijima didn’t seem too happy about it. With a sullen face, he left the scale and grumbled “Two centimeters off.”

“Two-point-three centimeters off. Don’t round it down. You’re a setter, so you don’t have to be so worried about your height, right?”

“I have a favorite player. It’s Abe, who was selected for the national team. He’s a setter, but he’s one-ninety-one. Even for setters, the bigger you are, the better you block and the faster you set. And, Abe’s ambidextrous, and he has a good left dump.”

“Huh? That reminds me, do you also…”

Haijima served with his left hand. But which hand did he hit with outside of those times...he didn’t have a clear impression. He felt like he recalled him hitting with his left and with his right.

“Use both hands?”

“I do,” He said carelessly, but was that something so easy to do? “There’s still an eighteen-centimeter difference, huh… But Abe can’t hit jump serves, so once my height catches up, I’ll be better.”

When it came to the subject of volleyball, Haijima became more talkative than usual. The way he spoke was basically like cutting short the front part of the context and throwing away the back end, but he came to be able to speak fairly long lines in a polite manner. He must love it a lot, he thought in half amazement and half admiration.

“I’m not sure if you have way too much confidence in yourself or is just an idiot…but I never thought you’d compare yourself to a member of the national team.”

He forced a smile, and got glared at with resentful eyes. He got scared, wondering if he said something that made him angry. He still wasn’t very good at knowing what set Haijima off.

“Kuroba, at the practice game, you see blocks and differentiate between hitting the ball cross and straight, right?”

“Cross-court and straight…oh, straight is where you hit the ball right down the middle, and cross is where you twist a little and hit it outside.”

“It’s the other way around, dumbass.”

He had answered with hand gestures while tilting his head to the side in confusion, but was completely denied with an insult.

“A cross is a spike that passes through the court at an angle. A straight is a spike that goes straight and parallel to the sidelines. When you’re hitting on the front row, you tend to step towards the center in front of the net a lot, so if you hit it straight on, it becomes a cross, and if you hit it with the intention to twist it outside, it will be straight.”

“So complicated…”

“It’s not that complicated, but…oh well. I’ll teach you step by step.”

He thought “Teach me?” every time, but why was he naturally acting like he was above him?

“Even if you don’t understand it with your head, you have good eyes, so you can deal with blocks. Being able to naturally rotate your trunk midair, the length of your time in the air, the suppleness of your shoulders…those are qualities you’ve probably always had. You will get good. It’ll be in no time if you do it properly. You’ll be taller, too.”

“…? Do you have a fever?”

He stared at Haijima’s face suspiciously and got a suspicious look in return.

“What. Did I say something weird?”

“No, it’s just that you’re always so self-important, so I thought you were someone who wouldn’t praise or acknowledge people in that way.”

“If there’s something to acknowledge, then of course I’m gonna acknowledge it. But, there’s no way to acknowledge what’s not there.”

Haijima stated, pouting and seeming truly upset.

Haijima never flattered. He wasn’t humble. He couldn’t hold himself back. Indeed, he might be sincere and straightforward in a sense. …But, he thought it was probably a tough way to live. Most people didn’t want to be told the truth right to their faces.

“You will get good.”

Afterwards, slowly but steadily, a ticklish feeling welled up in the depths of his body. It was uncool to take someone at their word, so he purposely looked indifferent and said,

“I have a talent for volleyball, huh. It won’t make me all that popular though.”

He feigned ignorance and talked big. Unlike Haijima, he felt like he had been drifting through life frivolously, with a bunch of façades lined up in front of him, obscuring reality.

***

The days have become longer, and the chill had subsided considerably. It was now often possible to sneak peeks at patches of blue in the sky which had been covered by depressing snow-laden clouds in midwinter. The sun had completely set when he nearly ran over Haijima in front of that karaoke box in February, but by mid-March, there was still some faint light left in the sky at that same time of day. A rusty copper sunset fringed the ridgelines of Mount Nokude in the distance.

Since their houses were in the same direction, he ended up going home with Haijima on days they had club activities. Their enamel bags, slung over their shoulders, rattled, and they tread on the rugged road in their snow boots. Although the snow on the road melted during the day and was close to becoming sherbet, it had begun to freeze again in the shape of punched-through car ruts and footprints. During the snowfall season from December to March, elementary and middle school students were prohibited from cycling to school, so it took forty minutes to get there on foot. There was no doubt that they would starve before they reached home, so the two stuffed their cheeks with sweet bread as they walked. Incidentally, he stuffed himself with two pieces of bread before club and of course he was going to eat dinner when he got home. At any rate, he was hungry. And at any rate, he was sleepy.

Until one or two months ago, he would have wanted to skip over middle school and become a high school student as soon as possible, but come to think of it, he had stopped thinking about that recently. He had no time to think about superfluous things because after he finished club activities, went home, ate, and took a bath, he immediately went to bed. He fell asleep feeling like he was sinking into the floor with his futon, and then when he woke up, it was next morning.

Finals were over, and now it was time to neglect everything and go into spring break. And whether he left it alone or made a fuss, once the break ended, he would become a third-year. The word examinee still didn’t really strike home for him.

“Haijima, what are you gonna do for high school? Are you taking it here?”

He finally broached the subject that actually wanted to ask him about during club, but hesitated over.

“Well, I was thinking of taking it here, but…”

He got stuck on how Haijima trailed off at the end of his sentence, which was unusual for him.

“But? Is there a condition or something?”

He once again asked Haijima’s profile, which was bulged out with the bread he stuffed in his mouth. He wasn’t wearing his glasses right now. Haijima always followed the procedure of putting in contact lenses and taping his hands before club started. If he taped first, he wouldn’t be able to handle his contacts. When club activities were finished, he followed that procedure in reverse, but there were days when he went home as he was, perhaps because he couldn’t be bothered. From the point of view of Kuroba, whose vision had never fell below 20/20 and whose fingernails and bones seemed healthy and strong, he had a difficult constitution.

“More importantly, new first-years will come in April.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah. Skilled guys would get picked up by the other clubs, so it’s better not to get your hopes up, but maybe we can get one or two people.” More importantly? He had a feeling he was changing the subject, but the timing to repeat the question escaped him.

“If we get more members, I wanna go to a tournament. I don’t know the tournament schedule here, but there should be a prefectural tournament before the summer inter-school.”

“Tournament, huh. But even if we can be in it, I don’t think we can win at our level…”

“It’s no fun if you don’t play a game. I wanna be in a match. I’m gonna train you all to be presentable enough by summer. I’ll take care of the rest.” Once again, he said that he was gonna train us without hesitation. Is he treating us like performing monkeys or something?

Ah, there it was. The sparkle in his eyes like that of a dinosaur-loving elementary schooler. Though he was just being arrogant and saying something self-centered, when he had that look in his eyes, he couldn’t help but feel that it was as though it was being secretly switched with something of pure purpose. Kuroba realized that he couldn’t oppose those eyes at all.

“Ooookay, got it. We need an advisor to be in a tournament or it’s no good, right? Let’s ask tomorrow.”

When he said that with a sigh, a crude voice called out to them from the side of the road.

“Hey, isn’t that the head house’s bon walking there?” (1)

It came from in front of the signboard of the aforementioned “Karaoke Box Monshiro”. Was this the only place to hang out? Well, it probably was. There were three men. Two 125cc motorbikes and one moped. Each of them was sitting astride their seats and hanging their butts on their tandem grips, smoking cigarettes as they tucked their chins inside their collars of their jackets, looking cold. They had the appearances of what countryside delinquents should be.

“Oh, Yori-chan!”

Kuroba called out to him with a smile, but Yorimichi only took a glance at his appearance and looked away.

The other two were Yorimichi’s senpais, both from the neighborhood. When someone other than his relatives called him the “head house’s bon”, it was probably filled with ridicule, but since he was used to it, he didn’t react to it every single time, and Kuroba greeted them in a friendly manner as well.

“’Sup. It’s been a while. I didn’t know you guys are back.”

“It’s spring break in uni too. Bon, how much you got today?”

“Oh…I only have some coins. I’ve been doing club activities lately so there’s a lot of times when I’d be leaving my bag alone.”

“’Club activities’?”

The two repeated it with a rising inflection that contained laughter.

“Oh, is that what Yorimichi was talking about?”

Smirking, they eyed Kuroba from the top of his head to his feet. He uncomfortably let his gaze escape to Haijima, who was waiting next to him. When he looked at Haijima, he could see his own appearance like he was looking into a mirror, or rather, he was just copying Haijima, but—he was wearing a knee-length padded coat over his jersey with his rectangular enamel sports bag slung over his shoulder, and he really did look like he was coming back from a sports club. In regards to the padded coat, Kuroba saw Haijima’s and also bought one recently.

“You do receives or something, how did that go again? We didn’t do it in gym in high school, so I completely forgot.”

The two had mean smiles on their faces, pointing their chins. Either the smoke of their cigarettes or the whiteness of their breath from the cold made their stubbled mouths misty.

“Um, it’s like this, I guess…?”

Kuroba had no choice but to drop his hips on the spot and did the posture for an underhand pass, and the two cackled and applauded.

“Wow, looking pretty good, aren’t you? I know, it’s that thing, Attack No.1, right?”

“That old manga? It’s that ‘I won’t cry, I’m just a girl’ thing, right?” (2)

“The heroine spoke in dialect. Gyahahaha!” (3)

“Haha…”

When Kuroba forced a smile while feeling his face turning hot, his bag was suddenly pulled on. The strap was biting into the pit of his stomach. “Gueh,” he groaned as he turned around.

“Haijima?”

“You’re just getting looked down on. We’re not playing around.  Don’t keep them company.”

Like he was pulling on the leash of a not particularly disciplined dog, Haijima primly started walking while gripping the strap. “Okay, okay, don’t pull me. It’s dan…” Right when he twisted his body around and rushed to follow him,

“You’re hanging out with us, right, Yuni?”

Yorimichi called out to his back.

Haijima turned around, not even trying to hide his annoyance. Kuroba also followed his gaze while feeling lost. Turning away and smoking his cigarette, Yorimichi snorted sarcastically.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting’ influenced by Fighting Spirit Chika-chan, are ya? You’re the one who’s gonna be embarrassed later.”

“Hey…oh, hey Yori-chan, are you mad at me? Sorry for not hanging out with you lately. We’ll do stuff together during spring break.”

“Kuroba, we’re practicing during spring break too.”

Haijima’s dissatisfied sounding voice pierced the back of his ear. “We can’t practice everyday, right?” When he turned around with a half-smile, his face seemed to say, As a matter of fact, of course we are. “If we’re going to the summer tournament, we’ll still never make it in time even with that.” “Are you serious…” He was of course ready to have fun and relax during spring break, so when he was told to be prepared to completely spend that time on club activities… I underestimated this guy’s volleyball obsession.

“Yuuuuni. You understand, right? It’s no good for you. It’d be less embarrassing if you stop playing around. I ain’t patient either, so I can’t wait too long for you.”

“Hey, even Yori-chan’s being mean? You’re not serious, right?”

He looked at Yorimichi again with a twitching smile. “Oh, you’re pretty popular, Bon. If you pick one, you have to cut off the other. This is a real mess.” The two university students irresponsibly jeered and aggravated the situation.

“You, you get it, right? I have the same blood in my veins as you, so we get fired up and cooled off easily.  I’ll probably get bored halfway, right?”

He ended up prioritizing putting Yorimichi in a good mood with a joking tone. A cold sweat ran down the nape of his neck as he felt Haijima’s burning gaze scorching it.

He knew that he was playing it safe. He was still afraid now that Yorimichi would throw him away. He wanted to secure the warm place he could always return to if things got tough. Don’t put me together with you, he grumbled in his mind. Haijima, who didn’t have an ounce of doubt about himself doing volleyball, probably wouldn’t understand, but for us until just now, guys who went hardcore for club activities were just something to be watched from a distance and gawked at.

Yorimichi bared his teeth and grinned.

“Haha, that’s right. You’re the same as me.”

Relieved, Kuroba also slackened his cheeks.

And, the heat wave of Haijima’s gaze that was burning the back of his neck also abruptly disappeared. The strap was released to send him flying.

“Then quit now.”

Haijima said it bluntly in a cold voice, a complete reversal from the heat of earlier.

“Hey, no need to go that far…”

“I don’t want to the tournament to get messed up.”

“Messed up…”

He immediately guessed that he was talking about scandals that would result in a suspension. Kuroba himself didn’t smoke or drink, but he overlooked Yorimichi doing it. It wasn’t illegal to ride double on a bike, but having only one helmet was probably not allowed. It wasn’t a good look to sneak into karaoke bars either. He didn’t really care about it until now, but it was somewhat understandable that school sports were sensitive to those kinds of issues.

Haijima’s concern was reasonable, and perhaps this was where he should be sorry. But on the contrary, antagonism reared its head. So, from the beginning, he wasn’t worried about whether or not Kuroba would continue to do volleyball or not, but about that?

“You showed your true colors, eh!”

Yorimichi’s loud voice suddenly rang out. Haijima glared suspiciously at him and Kuroba was also confused. Peeling his lips back in a vicious grin that made him draw back a little, Yorimichi continued to speak in a theatrical way.

“The infamous ‘Genius Setter’ of Meisei Middle School only thinks about satisfying his own desires, right?”

“Yori-chan? What are you talking about?”

“You were the one who wanted to know, Yuni. You asked why he came back here. That’s why I investigated.”

Haijima’s sharp gaze immediately moved to Kuroba. He did voice his doubts, but he thought the conversation ended there, so to think that Yorimichi would investigate it…

“Oops, you’re barking up the wrong tree if you’re blaming Yuni. It’s that ‘you reap what you sow’ kind of thing, right?”

Yorimichi came down from his bike and stepped on his cigarette to put it out. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his down jacket and approached him with bowlegs and swinging shoulders, looking particularly vulgar. “Move, Yuni,” he said, pushing Kuroba aside and standing before Haijima.

“I could have easily gotten the name of your school from your grandpa through mine. Well, I used Itoko though, since I’ve been given up on by Gramps. So when I quickly searched the net…oh look, there’s slander of the ‘Genius Setter’ who reigned over Meisei Middle until last year. The net sure is terrifyin’. Everything’s on there. Well, I guess it means you’re not liked very much.”

The more Yorimichi talked, the stiffer Haijima’s expression became. The color disappeared from Haijima’s face that seemed to embody the world’s arrogance and fearlessness, and his gaze dropped downwards. The shadow of Yorimichi, who was a size bigger in height and width, hung over the head of Haijima, who was looking down and biting his lower lip. “Oi oi, look at the poor guy, Yorimichi. Don’t bully middle schoolers. You’ll make him cry.” The two university students saying insincere things were completely taking the role of spectators.

“Yuni.”

“Huh? Y-yeah.”

Kuroba reflexively responded, unable to catch up with the conversation very well. Yorimichi’s face changed from that of someone tormenting a dying animal, and when he turned around, he was no longer smiling. It was an extremely serious expression.

“I don’t have anything against Chika, but I don’t really care. I think it’s petty to talk about other people behind their backs online. It’s all for you. Don’t get too absorbed in it. After all there was apparently someone who attempted suicide because of this guy——”

An instant later, Haijima barked something that couldn’t be expressed in words and grabbed Yorimichi. “Oh?” Although Yorimichi staggered a little, their physiques and amount of fight experiences were different. He grabbed Haijima’s face and thrust it aside, just like he was grabbing a ball—a dodgeball instead of a volleyball—with one hand and throwing it violently. Haijima was lightly blown off two or three meters away, the side of his face crashing into the muddy snow-covered road.

Because it was the first time he heard Haijima’s enraged voice, Kuroba was temporarily distracted by that. He hurriedly broke into Yorimichi’s path.

“Yo-Yori-chan, stop! Violence is no good!”

“He was the one who charged at me. Ah, it’d be no good for a sports boy to be violent, right? Didn’t you say that yourself? I’m being kind by ending it with just knocking him down.”

Yorimichi threw mocking jeers at Haijima over Kuroba’s shoulder. Kuroba turned around and ran up to Haijima, who was crouching and holding his hand to his face. “Oi, you’re alive…” he knelt down and was about to touch his shoulder, but what Yorimichi said flashed across his mind and he stopped his hand.

…Attempted suicide…?

“Let’s go back. My ass is frozen.”

Urging the two university students, Yorimichi returned to his bike.

“Yuni, get over here.”

Summoned, Kuroba looked up at the chin of Yorimichi, who was sitting astride his bike, but hesitated and returned his gaze to Haijima. His earlobe, which was poking out from the gaps between his hair, were terrifyingly white. No way, is he actually dead? He thought, but he saw a fist clenching the snow underneath his face pressed against the ground. Mud soaked into his white taping and stained it brown.

He couldn’t leave him here and go home.

“Even if you say go home, you won’t let me ride double anyways. I’ll send him home, okay?”

“Well, whatever.”

Yorimichi backed down easily with just a shrug of his shoulders. The sneering had already disappeared and he returned to his normal self.

“Don’t forget. Wash your hands of him as soon as possible. From his reaction, it doesn’t seem like those are groundless rumors. Be careful on your way home. I’m talking about the snowy roads and your teammate next to you.”

Perhaps Yorimichi also felt that he went a bit too far. He awkwardly turned his face away, made his engine roar its usual crude and vulgar sounds, and departed on the Komashi-gou.

***

“Mei from zayuu no mei and makoto, Meisei. (4) It’s called Meisei Private Academy Middle School. It’s a middle and high school in one, and their sports clubs are pretty strong. Apparently the distribution map of famous private schools is common knowledge among Kanto kids. You can’t really experience it here, can you? There aren’t enough schools to choose from. Hey, everyone’s gonna hang out in the city after the end-of term ceremony, so do you wanna come with us? I wonder if Haijima would come if we invited him. You guys have been getting along well lately.”

“Um, oh, yeah. If that’s all I can ask then I’m good for now. Thanks.”

He hung up first because it seemed like the conversation would never end if he left it alone.

Itoko said “Everyone”, so the group probably included girls. To tell the truth, he was really jealous of this merry spring break-like event. Normally he wouldn’t be able to refuse. But, it was only today that he couldn’t get into the mood at all. He was willing to bet that Haijima would never come either.

He put the phone handset next to the desk and turned towards the computer again. Since he had an agreement to not own a cell phone until high school, the only place he could access the Internet at home was the laptop in his dad’s study. When he tried to convert Meisei-chuu (5), he realized he didn’t know the kanji for it, and since Yorimichi said he learned it by way of Itoko, he called to ask her directly. Based on the current feeling, Yorimichi had really only gotten the school name, and it seemed he didn’t tell Itoko more than that. He felt relieved about that.

A school with a strong athletic department. If this school was that famous, then it might not be strange for there to be a rumor or two to float around the Internet. After all, there was even a message board titled “[Monshiro Town] Old Man Kuroba [Yokai]”—Yorimichi thought it was hilarious and told him about it, but Kuroba never searched for it because he was scared of learning the contents.

“Tokyo meisei academy middle school boys volleyball club attempted suicide”

He entered the search words, and just when he was about to click the search button, his finger stopped. He couldn’t easily press the key. Of course he was unbearably curious. But, he was afraid to find out the contents for that more than Grandpa’s message board.

“Yuni? Where are you?”

His mother’s voice came from somewhere on the other side of the sliding screen door. He twisted himself around on the tatami chair and raised his voice.

“In here! The study!”

“Why are you there? Aren’t you going to take a bath?”

“Okay!”

After thinking about it a little bit, he ended up pressing the backspace key to delete everything he typed in. Once he did so, he completely gave up, closed the computer and stood up.

Previous || Index || Next

[steppedoffaflight]

Van has just come back to the land of the living, rubbing his eyes groggily as you enter the room.

“Shit,” He croaks, “I meant to get up before you. Wanted to surprise you.”

“Don’t be silly,” You brush him off, but secretly you’re pleased that he remembered. He’d been talking about it all week, sure, but you wouldn’t blame him if it slipped his mind first thing in the morning.

“Happy birthday,” He grins as you hand him his warm mug of coffee. He takes it right into his hands, unbothered by the heat, and immediately takes a sip. Three years into your relationship you no longer openly cringe at him trying to blister his tongue every morning.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” You retort with a grin, climbing back into the warmth of your bed.

based on the prompt: Hi! Can I request a fic in which readers bday is valentines day and she spends the day with Van❤️

A/N: This probably went in a different direction than you meant it, but I hope you like it! Also I’m completely in love with this universe, and if anyone would like to read more of it feel free to let me know!

Word count: ~4.5k

As soon as your alarm goes off, you dread getting out of bed.

February in New York is as cold as can be, and as usual the frigid air has seeped in through the exposed brick walls of your apartment. Your first act of the morning is barely allowing one of your arms to emerge from the warm bubble of your comforter and sheets, your hand reaching blindly to turn the bedside lamp on. 

Your second order of business is forcing yourself to peel away the warm, soft layers of protection from the rest of your body, your skin breaking out in goosebumps as you slowly get your feet off of the side of the bed, your toes landing in the plush rug your bed rests on. You take another deep breath before you manage to stand yourself up, stepping off of the rug and onto the chilly hardwood floors as you start to stumble out of the bedroom.

You scowl at Van as you go. He’s nestled happily next to your empty space on the bed, deeply asleep and oblivious to the torment you were being subjected to.

Your shared apartment relies mostly on natural light, so preparing coffee on early morning workdays means you’ve learned to navigate the space in near-complete darkness. The kitchen light nearly blinds you when you flip the switch, your eyes unprepared for the burst of brightness.

Van’s put the coffee filters one shelf higher in the cabinet than you can comfortably reach, and you groan as you hoist yourself up on your very tiptoes, barely able to grasp them with the tips of your fingers. But you manage, and soon the coffee maker is starting to sputter, warming up in preparation to make a pot for the two of you.

You head across the room to the thermostat, satisfied when it reacts to you changing the settings by coming to life, the vents creaking as lukewarm air starts to blow from them.

You head into the living room, then, tugging open the curtains that are covering the big window. It reveals the same city you’ve been staring at all winter; gray skies and dirty, slushy snow. 

Once you’ve used the bathroom the coffee is ready, and you pour two mugs before heading back into the bedroom. 

Van has just come back to the land of the living, rubbing his eyes groggily as you enter the room.

“Shit,” He croaks, “I meant to get up before you. Wanted to surprise you.”

“Don’t be silly,” You brush him off, but secretly you’re pleased that he remembered. He’d been talking about it all week, sure, but you wouldn’t blame him if it slipped his mind first thing in the morning.

“Happy birthday,” He grins as you hand him his warm mug of coffee. He takes it right into his hands, unbothered by the heat, and immediately takes a sip. Three years into your relationship you no longer openly cringe at him trying to blister his tongue every morning.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” You retort with a grin, climbing back into the warmth of your bed. 

Your text messaging threads and Facebook wall are already full of messages from friends and family wishing you a good year. The rest of your feed is dedicated to Valentine’s Day, everyone and their uncle making long, sappy posts about their significant others, complete with a spread of photos. You’ve never made one for Van before out of respect for his hatred of social media, but this year it might be fun to join in with the tradition. You’ll have to ask him about it later.

Van’s set his coffee on his nightstand, wrapping his arms around your midsection. “How do you feel?” He asks, before burying his face in your stomach.

“Older,” You laugh, setting your phone aside. You pet his hair with the hand not holding your coffee. “Like I don’t wanna go to work today.”

“Don’t go,” He pleads, his voice muffled in your shirt. “Call off.”

It’s his go-to line almost every morning. You roll your eyes.

“It’s not that simple,” You tell him, as if you haven’t a hundred times before. “Plus, you’ll be at the studio all day, so it won’t even be worth it!”

“You can come to the studio with me!” He begs, right on cue.

“Shush,” You shut him down. “I’ll have plenty of time in the summer to drop by the studio.”

It’s hard to imagine that summer will ever exist, given the ice and snow that’s covered every inch of New York for months, but the thought of it still excites you. You’ll finally be getting a much-needed break from work, the band will be done working on this album, and you and Van will have nothing but quality time to spend with each other. The thought of it brightens up your day, as if the July sunshine has somehow magically transported here today.

After coffee you’ve got to force yourself to get ready for work. A few friends from your office have already wished you happy birthday this morning on Facebook, so you’re sure you’ll have people constantly stopping by your office to give you their well-wishes. You sift through a few outfits, feeling more self conscious than you have in months.

You end up tugging on a sweater dress that clings tight to your skin. It almost feels like it’s suffocating you, but when you step out of the walk-in closet Van’s eyes almost bug out of his head. 

“Do you like this?” You ask him, your voice betraying your uncertainty. 

“Love it,” Van nods before taking a glug of his coffee. “Proper sexy.”

You glare at him. “It’s so tight. I feel like a fucking balloon.”

Van rolls his eyes. “You can say it, doesn’t make it true.”

You head back into the closet in a huff, but Van’s approval means you leave the dress on. You pair it with a loose cardigan so that every single contour of your body isn’t clearly visible, and after deciding you look decent you struggle to roll on a pair of thick stockings and a tall pair of boots, preparing to keep yourself warm on the walk to work.

You share the bathroom with Van as you fix your hair and makeup and he shaves in preparation for his own day, and then he’s helping you into your warm wool coat, giving you a quick goodbye kiss before you head out. 

Your thick layers of clothing make your buttoned coat feel like it’s squeezing you, so before you’ve gotten very far from your building’s front door you’ve already decided to unbutton it. It’s not windy today, and during your walk to the office you work up a bit of a sweat, so overall today is going better than usual. 

\\

As predicted, people stop by all morning and into the afternoon to wish you a happy birthday and gush about their Valentine’s Day plans. When they ask you what you’re doing to celebrate in return, you try not to be bothered by the way all of their faces fall when you tell them that you and Van have nothing special going on, just a quiet night in. 

You run behind schedule all day from interruptions, and by the time you’re heading out into the snow to head back home you’re frustrated, trying to mentally calculate everything you’ll have to get done when you get back to the office on Monday to make up for your lackluster performance today. 

“Christ!”

You jump when Van’s voice materializes behind you, and you turn on your heels to see he was leaning on the brick near the door, rushing to catch up with you, a cigarette burning between his fingers.

“You didn’t even recognize me!” He laughs in disbelief, the steam of his breath floating into the air.

“People smoke there all the time!” You laugh, happily taking his hand when he holds it out for you. You two start the walk home. “Good day in the studio?”

“Oh, it was class. I feel like I’m writing better than I ever have.”

You beam at the profile of his face, watching the nippy evening wind carry his exhaled smoke away. “Oh really,” You tease, “Why?”

Van’s been happier ever since you two relocated from LA to New York, but with the way things have been going so well between you two he’s been even happier, an extra pep in his step everywhere he goes. Everyday he looks like he’s on the brink of proposing. You’d be lying if you hadn’t sort of had your hopes up for today being the day.

“The summer,” He grins. “Can’t fucking wait.”

He’s lazily swinging your hands between you two, and you watch your hand move back and forth in his before you sigh. 

“Give me a hit of that,” You insist, reaching out for his cigarette with your free hand. Van looks appalled, plucking it from his mouth to hold it on the other side of his body.

“You quit!”

“I’m not gonna start again over one hit,” You roll your eyes. “Not with you keeping me so fucking accountable.”

Van doesn’t look convinced, and you scoff.

“It’s my birthday! And fucking Valentine’s Day! Don’t you love me, like, at all?”

At this Van narrows his eyes. “Oh, quit,” He mumbles, but then silently passes over the cigarette. 

You close your eyes at the taste of your first hit in months. God, you miss smoking so much. “Happy birthday to me,” You joke when you finally let the smoke out of your lungs, stealing another quick hit before you pass it back to him. “You know, you’re gonna have to quit soon.”

Van shakes his head on his next inhale. “Don’t think I can, honest,” He tells you on his exhale. “But I’m gonna give it a hell of a try.”

You snort, and you two fall into a comfortable silence the rest of the way.

Van doesn’t let go of your hand until the elevator arrives on your floor and he has to let go to unlock the door for you, ushering you inside.

“Oh my God,” You laugh when you see the inside of the apartment, which Van’s decorated with red, white, and pink streamers. “I’m not cleaning all of this up.”

“Course not,” Van laughs, tenderly touching your lower back as he heads into the kitchen. “Come open gifts.”

“I didn’t even ask for anything!” You protest. “Besides that new pillow. If you didn’t get me that, I’m pissed.”

Van throws his head back, laughing as you two come through the doorway into the kitchen. There’s a birthday cake sitting happily on the island, which Van has poked a billion candles into.

“I feel like there’s more than 25 here,” You try to count them with your eyes.

“Nope, 25 exactly,” Van grins, presenting you with your first gift. “I can’t take credit for this one, it’s from Bob.”

As soon as you pick it up you know exactly what it is, the wrapping crinkling around the edges of a picture frame, the glass panel cool through the paper. Van leans on his elbows across the kitchen island from you, a knowing grin across his face.

“Is this what I think it is?” You’re hesitant to get excited, starting to rip the wrapping paper away from the corners. “Holy fucking shit,” You gasp as the photo is revealed.

It’s a photo of you and Van in black and white, standing in front of the living room window. The contrast of the bright white lighting of the window against your dark bodies showcases both of your silhouettes. Bob must’ve taken it when you two weren’t paying attention, because you’re both laughing about something. Van’s hand is absentmindedly resting on your baby bump, which is showing up prominently in this photo.

“This is so gorgeous,” You murmur, unable to stop the tears that spring to your eyes. Bob had just been over last week to take these; you hadn’t expected him to have them developed and ready so soon considering the boys were extremely busy right now. You’re just getting settled into your second trimester, and although it seemed a bit premature for photos Van was adamant about capturing your newly blossoming stomach. 

“I didn’t realize I already have such a bump,” You sniffle, still admiring the photo. Despite the fact it’s your maternity shoot your eyes are glued to Van, looking so content and joyful. 

“Me either!” Van exclaims, rounding the corner now to admire the photo with you. “It’s gotten bigger this week, too.”

“I know,” You sigh, reminded of the way your sweater dress has been squeezing you all day. “Speaking of, let me change into something comfy.” Van holds his hands out for the frame, and you pass it over to him. “Can we hang that up tonight?”

“Your wish is my command,” Van jokes as you head into the bedroom, quickly changing out of your work attire and into one of Van’s baggy t-shirts and pair of leggings. You instantly feel more like yourself now that you’re out of your stuffy office clothes that make you feel like you’re middle-aged. 

You’re much happier as you bounce back into the kitchen. “What else do you have for me?”

Van carefully places the photo down on the counter, heading back to the other side of the island and leaning down. When he stands up his arms are full with the pregnancy pillow you’ve been begging for now that your stomach is starting to weigh enough to make sleeping uncomfortable. 

“My pillow!” You clap your hands together in excitement, reaching over to squish it. “It’s so soft. It better be as good as the reviews say.”

“It better be,” Van laughs as you take the pillow into your arms, trying to get a feel for the shape of it. “It cost a fortune.”

“Oh, shut up,” You tease, narrowing your eyes at him. He laughs, unable to keep a straight face. Van McCann? Worrying about finances? As if.

“Is this everything?” You ask, hauling your pregnancy pillow into the bedroom before returning. 

“Well, I’ve got another one for ya, but I had to run it by you first.” Van is drumming his fingers on the countertop. You grab a knife from the knife block, playfully giving his ass a squeeze as you tug your birthday cake towards you, ready to slice into it.

“You can’t eat that yet!” Van protests, momentarily distracted.

“Why not?” You ask, as you lick strawberry icing off of the finger you’d swiped over the piping on the edge. “You know I always crave Salty’s!”

Salty-n-Sweet Bakery, two blocks away and right on your route to and from work, has become your favorite place to splurge on a cupcake or a danish during your pregnancy. You know Van’s paid a premium price for this cake, and you’re eager to see if it was worth the money. 

“You haven’t even blown out the candles!” He grabs your wrist as you make to dig your steak knife into the flawless icing, undeterred by his argument. “It’s bad luck!”

“I don’t think it is,” You roll your eyes but surrender, setting the knife down. “Anyway, what were you running by me again?”

“What I was saying,” He glares at you playfully as he continues, “Is that I thought we’d use your two weeks vacation time and fly south so we can visit your family for a week, and then we can fly across the pond and see mine.”

“No fucking way!” You exclaim, birthday cake forgotten. “When?”

Van shrugs. “Whenever you wanna call off! Within the next couple’a weeks, ideally.”

You’re already imagining your parent’s face when you tell them you’re coming to visit. Since you and Van have told them the big news your mom has been calling you almost everyday for updates, eager to dispense the wisdom that only other child-carrying women can provide. You know it’s hard for them, what with their only child fleeing the state, but you hadn’t planned to see them until after the baby was born, so Van’s gift is the best surprise.

You know Mary’s been worried about you too. You’ve heard Van reassuring her that everything is moving along smoothly during their late night phone calls.

“I’ll check the schedule on Monday,” You promise, wrapping your arms around Van’s neck and leaning up on your toes to give him a kiss. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“I love you,” Van replies when you stop punctuating each thank you with a kiss. “Happy Valentine’s birthday.”

You snort at that title, and Van reaches into his back pocket for his phone.

“You wanna order dinner now? I was thinking we’d do that Chinese place you love.”

Your mouth practically waters as you head to the drawer in the kitchen where you keep the menus, tugging the one for the restaurant out. “You actually love me,” You joke, already pondering what you’ll order. “I actually feel so bad I don’t have anything for you.”

That’s the agreement; You tend to go overboard for Christmas, splurging on Van with a custom-built electric guitar, too many pairs of black socks, and embroidered scarves for him and his family, and in return you are not allowed to buy him anything for Valentine’s Day, so that you are allowed to enjoy your own birthday without the stress of finding the perfect gift for him a second time per year. 

“You’ve got something for me!” Van pokes at your tummy. “Best gift I could ask for.”

“Aw, quit,” You laugh, but Van’s palm flattens against your skin, warm and reassuring, and you rest your own hand on top of his.

“I still haven’t felt him kick,” Van frowns when he finally pulls his hand away, reaching for his phone to start placing your order.

“Don’t call it a him when you don’t even know!” Your hand is still resting against your bump. “And I’m still early along, it only happens sometimes.”

“You want me to DoorDash it?”

You think about it for a second. “Nah. Let’s walk.”

Once the order’s placed you two get a head start on leaving. With only Van’s thin t-shirt on your coat can actually button, and after Van pulls his long, gray coat (your favorite of his) over his own shoulders you two head out, holding hands like always.

There’s foot traffic in LA, but not like this. The businesses are more spaced out there, so you’re required to at least make a partial drive in order to get somewhere by foot. But here it’s nice to have everything so close to your apartment, and to have the opportunity to stroll around with Van. Especially in the evening, when all of the lights of the city are twinkling.

You two are quiet, simply enjoying each other’s company, when a mother pushes a baby bundled up in a stroller past you two. “I was thinking…” You start, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Do you care if I post that photo on Facebook?”

“The photo Bob took?” Van asks, and when you nod he shrugs. “You mean like, tell everybody? Sure, but wouldn’t you rather wait for him to develop the rest?”

He’s got a point. You’re sure Bob has a ton of other gorgeous photos of you two. “I dunno,” You still sigh. “I mean, I can post the rest when Bob gets around to them. But I can see people at work starting to be able to tell. And everyone was acting like it was so pitiful we weren’t doing something crazy tonight! It’d be nice if they knew why we’ve been enjoying our quiet alone time so much.”

“And we’ve already held off so long,” You point out. 

For the first week after that pregnancy test, when Van came home from the studio to find you pacing around the apartment like a madwoman, it had remained a secret between the two of you. It was a tiring week filled with early work mornings and late nights, the conversations between the two of you within the darkness of your bedroom stretching on for hours. Your voices quietly pondering if you two were ready to bring a real life human into this world, if your careers would allow it, or if you were better off scheduling an appointment at the local clinic. But by the end of the week the idea of starting a family was equally as exciting as it was terrifying, and so the decision was finally made.

But first pregnancies are at such a high risk of miscarriage, and you two didn’t want to get your families worked up over nothing. Both only children, the expectation of a grandchild from both sets of parents was not something to be toyed with. You two held off for another week or so, waiting with baited breath for blood in your underwear, or for your doctor to reveal this was all smoke and mirrors. But instead your ultrasound revealed a heartbeat, steady and strong, and you two finally called your families to spill the beans.

Van told the boys when they bugged him about being glued to his phone, asking you for constant updates when they had a few performances in the UK during your first trimester. And that’s how things have remained, but now you’re ready to share the news.

“I know,” Van beams, squeezing your hand. “I didn’t know we had it in us.”

“We?” You laugh. “Which abandoned social media page were you going to post on?”

Van throws his head back laughing, the breeze ruffling his hair. “Christ. Instagram, maybe?”

You snort.

“I’m serious!” Van’s voice climbs in pitch. “If I’ve ever had a reason to log on to that godforsaken app again, this is it.”

“Shouldn’t you warn your team first? They’ll probably have a heart attack getting the notification.”

Van shrugs, looking mischievous and carefree and every other reason you fell in love with him.

\\

The Chinese food is even better than the last two times you’ve had it, you and Van joking through the entire meal that the chef was on his A-game today. And then you blow out your candles and each help yourself to a slice of cake with buttercream that melts in your mouth before retiring to the couch, bloated and happy.

It’s not long before you’re gripping the armrest of the couch, on your hands and knees atop the cushions while Van fucks the shit out of you from behind. Pregnancy hormones have only made everything feel more intense, and the sound of Van slipping in and out of you is unbearably noisy. 

“That’s too much,” You grit out when Van gets a hand between your legs, his fingers trying to circle your clit. Any other day his fingers would be necessary to come, but today you can feel your orgasm building from lower down, deeper inside of you, and you know as long as Van doesn’t stop you’ll come from that alone.

“Oh, fuck,” Van laughs in disbelief, and you hear the leather of the couch rustle as Van wipes his fingers against the back of the sofa. “You’re soaked.”

“I know,” You groan in annoyance, pushing your hips back harder so that Van’s next thrust is twice as hard. The sensation has you crying out, your fingers aching from gripping the armrest so hard. Van’s rhythm falters for a second time, and you make a displeased noise in return. “Harder, babe, c’mon.”

“Woman, I’m giving you all I’ve got.” Van’s out of breath. “I’m about to bust.”

“C’mon, baby, c’mon,” You plead with him, your eyes squeezing shut as he has another burst of energy, his hands roughly grabbing your waist so that he can control the pace better. You know that Van’s still trying to figure out what to do with this version of you in the bedroom, more demanding and particular and forced into doggy style by your round belly, and if you think about it too hard you might laugh through your bleary state. To his credit, he’s handling the nightmare you’ve become amazingly well. So well, in fact, that the pressure that’s been building between your legs finally implodes, sending you into a fit of swearing and screaming Van’s name so loud you’re positive the neighboring apartments can hear. 

Van shudders into his orgasm right after yours is complete, his chest hair tickling your back as he slumps forward, letting you support his weight until he’s finished, pulling out as he still twitches with aftershocks. 

“Oh my God,” You gasp as you flop into a sitting position, your thighs soaked with a mix of sweat and come. Your stomach rises and falls in jagged zig-zags while you catch your breath, and you pat it like you might pat a dog that’s sitting for a treat. You feel a bit sorry that there’s another person that’s going to be witnessing all the sex you and Van will be having for another five months, but you’re even happier that Van still treats you like normal Y/N, and not just an oven cooking up his firstborn. “That was so fucking good.”

“You’re mental,” Van grins. He sees you smiling down at your bump, and leans forward to give your stomach his own pat. “Sorry, lad.”

“You don’t know if it’s a lad!” You cry for the millionth time.

“Speaking it into existence,” Van brushes you off as he lights a cigarette for his usual post-sex smoke. 

You reach out for a hit, the craving crashing into you full force. And Van shouldn’t let you, but he does, affectionately rolling his eyes as he passes his cigarette over again for the second time. 

“Do I really have to quit?” You whine when you pass it back, itching for your own. “I’m sure it’s not a huge deal.”

Van shakes his head. “Benji showed me tons of studies on it.”

You slump into the couch, exhausted and sated. “I’m too tired to take a shower.”

“C’mon,” Van nudges you. “I’ll wash your hair for you.”

\\

Clean and warm from your shower, you doze off immediately after you and Van slip into bed, preparing to watch some TV. When you wake up two episodes later, Van’s nose is buried in his phone.

“Told ya,” He smirks, shoving his screen right into your face. You have to blink the sleep out of your eyes before you understand what you’re looking at; an Instagram post with Bob’s photo of you two.

Buzzing to announce we’re expecting a little one this July, Van’s caption reads. Can’t wait xx

\\

[angsty-aliens]

Truck Stop Knives And Other Accessories of Childhood (2/3)

Thank you a million times to @jocarthage @foramomentonly and @haloud for the beta and brainstorming. 

Here is part 2 of what I’ve been calling my “feral stabby baby” fic. Alien tech manifests an inner child for Michael. And that inner child has a knife. You can find part one on Ao3. (CW: discussions of child abuse)

***

Alex’s cabin was a solid half hour out of city limits. Close enough to not be too much of a hassle, but far enough away to not have neighbors. It’d been a while since Michael had been alone with Alex and he tried not to let that nervousness show as he parked.

Things were good. He and Maria broke up amicably. Michael was good at pushing people away. It was a carefully cultivated skill set and eventually even though he tried to be good, it wasn’t fair to Maria. He was a mess and she deserved someone better than him. And throughout all of it, Michael and Alex tried to maintain an alliance if not a friendship. Michael didn’t have friends. He didn’t know how to be one. Closest he had was Liz, and he figured she tolerated him because he was adjacent to Max.

The kid was giving him suspicious looks the longer they lingered in the dark outside the cabin. The lights were on. Alex was clearly home. They just had to knock.

Finally the kid rolled his eyes and kicked the door.

“Hey! You could have knocked!”

Mikey raised an eyebrow, “YOU could have knocked.”

Michael’s retort was cut short by the door opening. Alex. No matter what, seeing Alex made the knot between his shoulders ease. Even when they crashed into each other and pushed on each other’s bruises, Alex still felt like home.

Alex may have been texted the sit-rep for this little alien misadventure, but it was one thing to read his ex-boyfriend had manifested an eleven year old version of himself, and another to see it. To his credit, he only gawked for a second before gesturing them inside.

“So….”

“Uh, yeah. Alex this is me as an eleven year old. Inner Child, this is Alex.”

The kid gave him a look of disgust, “Don’t call me that.”

“Liz was calling him Mikey.” Michael said.

Alex held out a hand to shake, “Michael Guerin, I’m Alex Manes. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

It took an elbow from Michael, but Mikey accepted the hand and gave his best adult impression as he shook it. “So, what happened to your leg?”

Michael’s jaw dropped, “you can’t just ask someone what happened to their leg! What’s wrong with you?!”

“What? He stands weird.”

Alex coughed, “it’s fine. Kids are curious.” He pulled up the hem of his pants to expose the metal prosthetic, “I’m in the Air Force and I lost my leg in combat.”

The kid crouched down to take a closer look and ordered, “I want to see where it connects. Show me how it stays on.”

Michael mumbled an apology, grabbed the back of the kid’s hoodie and marched him into the kitchen.

“You’re not being curious, you’re being an asshole. Stop it.”

The kid exploded in sudden anger and hissed, “YOU brought me to the house of someone in the military! Do you WANT us to be cut open?”

“He knows about aliens. He’s a good guy. No one’s getting vivisected. He’s on our side.”

The little boy threw his hands up in revulsion, “Does EVERYONE in this shitty little town know about aliens?”

“Max resurrected Liz. Apparently once you bring someone back from the dead, the secret gets out. But the people who know are Team Extraterrestrial. No one’s gonna blab to the government. We… trust them.”

Mikey sneered, “Do you?”

“Okay, Max and Isobel trust them. I trust Alex. We can trust Alex.”

“I can’t believe I grew up to be a dipshit.”

“I can’t believe I was such a little prick!”

Alex knocked at the door frame to get their attention, “you guys aren’t exactly being subtle… or quiet. Instead of yelling at each other, do you want dinner? It’s almost 7pm. I can order pizza, or I’ve got some frozen dinners we can microwave.”

The Guerins stood in the kitchen still glaring at each other.

Michael’s jaw clenched, but he broke the silent warfare, “we ate at 4 but we could probably eat again. I can also cook if you want.”

Alex opened an empty cabinet, “If by cook you mean heat up a can of soup, sure. But there’s not really anything else to cook here. I haven’t stocked up on groceries in awhile. I’ve got some microwave oatmeal packets for breakfast so no one’s going to starve to death, but we’re not gonna get a Leave It To Beaver dinner out of this kitchen.”

The kid gave a calculated look between the two men before asking, “are you fucking each other? Are we gay?”

Michael sucked in air through his teeth before stalking angrily away from the kid who was swaying on his feet in anticipation. “Alex, I’m sorry. I don’t know why he’s being like this. I shouldn’t have brought him and bothered you. We can go back to the airstream.”

Alex explained gently, “He’s poking the bear. He wants to see what’ll happen. You STILL do this so it’s not surprising you do it as a kid too.”

Michael turned back to the kid with a considering gaze, “do you want to see if I’ll hit you or if Alex will?”

Kid shrugged, “It’s Saturday. Doesn’t really matter which of you does it.”

Michael exhaled suddenly like he’d been punched in the stomach, “It’s Saturday. I can’t believe I forgot about this.”

Alex looked between the two Guerins. Michael scrubbed his face angrily. The little boy held himself completely still. Alex waited for an explanation. Michael leaned against a countertop and carefully looked at a spot on the wall. Looking anywhere but at Alex or Mikey.

It took him a minute to speak. This was hard.

“On Saturdays the religious freaks would line us all up and paddle the crap out of us. Didn’t matter how good we were. On Saturday you were getting your licks. They said it was to cover all the sins we did during the week that they didn’t catch. Because they’d whack you if they thought you were doing something wrong. But on Saturdays no matter what, no matter how good you tried to be, you were getting it. They said it was…”

The boy calmly stated, “Taking your medicine.”

“Yeah that’s right. Taking your medicine.” His jaw twitched, “Like they had to beat all the bad stuff out so on church Sunday we could be good again. We could absorb the lessons. And the man in charge of the home said children listen better on sore bottoms.” Michaels’ face twisted up, “That fucker.”

Mikey looked uneasy. Michael took a steadying breath and forced himself to remain calm, “We don’t do that here. No one’s gonna hit you here. I might yell. But no one will hit you no matter what a little shit you are. I’ll explode anyone who tries with my brain.”

The kid stared at them both, silently making calculations before nodding once. “I want pizza.”

Alex made mental plans to find out the names of these fundamentalists and completely ruin them online.

***

The call for pizza had been made, and Alex awkwardly watched the two Michaels sit on the floor methodically taking his toaster apart. He tried to insist it wasn’t broken, but Michael just made meaningful eye contact and repeated, “let us fix it.”

So now the toaster was in pieces, scattered across the hardwood floor. Alex had to admit this was the calmest he’d seen the boy. Having a task seemed good for him. And two Michaels were actually getting along, passing a phillips head screwdriver back and forth. If he had to buy a new toaster, it’d be worth it for this momentary peace.

The pizza wouldn’t arrive for a while yet, the downside of living in the boonies. His cabin did have a washing machine though, and unless Isobel made good time, she probably wouldn’t have new clothes for the kid until tomorrow.

Alex cleared his throat to get their attention, “I have a load of laundry I was going to start, and I can stick you stuff in there too Mikey. That way you have clean clothing for tomorrow. If you want you can take a shower and I can try to find you pajamas. Dinner should be here by the time you get out.”

The boy protested, “but the toaster…”

Michael began to pick up the mess, “the toaster will still be here. This isn’t a time sensitive project. No one will be in trouble if it doesn’t get fixed tonight. Clean clothes probably isn’t a bad idea. I’ve got a couple shirts that could use a wash too.”

He pulled the kid to his feet, and steered him towards the bathroom. “Alex has good water pressure and the tank is huge. Hot water for days!”

With the two house guests preoccupied, Alex started to gather clothing to wash. It was just an excuse and Michael knew it, but maybe it’d make the boy feel less awkward if he thought everyone had laundry to do. He heard the shower start and Michael exited the bathroom with an armful of clothing. The challenge was going to be finding the boy something to wear while his clothing was being cleaned. A tshirt would hang like a dress on him and preserve his modesty, but Alex doubted he had any sleep shorts with a drawstring tight enough to stay up on a child.

The two men began to load the washing machine. Michael added a couple shirts from his backpack. Alex didn’t know if they actually needed to be washed or if Michael was just trying to keep the kid from feeling weird.

“You okay?” Alex asked.

Michael dug through the kids pockets quickly and removed four quarters, a shiny rock, and a plastic bag with two pancakes inside. Deeming the clothing now safe, he crammed it in the washing machine. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Because you’re suddenly the guardian of a very angry eleven year old version of yourself who manifested from alien technology we don’t understand yet?”

Michael laughed, “yeah when you put it that way… today is a lot. Thanks for letting us crash here. We would have killed each other in my airstream. At least you’ve got a couch the kid can sleep on. I’ll take the floor.”

“What? No, you’re not sleeping on the floor.” Alex’s forehead furrowed, “You can… look my bed is big enough. We’re adults.”

“I don’t want this to be weird for you.”

“Then don’t make it weird.”

And with that statement Alex walked back to his bedroom to find the boy something to wear. When Michael followed him, he handed him an oversized air force shirt, and a towel.

Michael sheepishly handed the shirt back, “Maybe something that doesn’t have a military logo on it? Kid isn’t a huge fan of Uncle Sam.”

Another rummage through his drawers, and Alex a plain black shirt. It wasn’t quite as big as the Air Force shirt, but it was still an oversized shirt Alex used to sleep in. It should be long enough for the boy.

Michael gratefully took the items and knocked on the bathroom door in warning before leaving the towel and shirt inside.

Sure enough by the time the pizza arrived, Mikey was done with his shower and standing in the living room shifting from foot to foot. Alex knew he was eleven, but he looked smaller engulfed in his shirt. It made his heart feel tight to see Michael Guerin’s face on a child wearing his clothing. Like he’d crush anyone who ever hurt this kid.

The boy attacked the pizza, and Alex spotted a thin red mark on his thigh, peeking out from the edge of the shirt. Alex was familiar with marks like that, but his marks were always wider. Belts tended to linger. Michael Guerin was carefully avoiding his eyes, as he reached around the kid to grab his own slice. When he finally managed to catch his gaze, Michael just shrugged as if to say “shit happens.”

Alex knew that. And he knew better than to mention it to the kid. It was no secret that he and Guerin connected over shared trauma. It just felt like a punch in the gut to see evidence of a beating on a kid. It was surprising Michael wasn’t triggered to hell being confronted with his worse childhood memories in technicolor.

Alex carefully peeled his own piece of pizza off the cardboard so they could all pretend this was perfectly normal.

***

Michael could hear the thump of clothing in the dryer as he made Alex’s couch up for bedtime. He carefully tucked a sheet around the old seat cushions and layered some homemade quilts on top. The overall effect was very homey, if a little ill-matched.

The kid was still wearing Alex’s shirt like a dress and that red mark was impossible to ignore. When Michael buried his head in the closet to look for an extra pillow, Michael casually asked “do you need some neosporin?”

Mikey was still poking at the disassembled toaster, “for what?”

Michael carefully kept his voice calm and disinterested, “The switch marks. Anything bleeding?”

“Nah. Her aim just sucks. Or maybe she did it on purpose. It’s a new placement. She got my back and my legs, not just my butt.” Mikey hesitated, “Did she do it on purpose?”

Michael couldn’t pretend to fluff pillows in a closet forever. He turned around and swallowed hard, “Yeah. She really liked smacking my legs. Aimed for the lower thighs a lot, where it really hurts and where it’s hard to cover. I got in trouble in PE a lot for not wearing my gym shorts.” Michael ran a lot of miles around the track in jeans, but it was worth it to not have those marks visible to Max and Isobel. They didn’t need to know. And he wasn’t willing to risk being moved out of Roswell if a grown up figured things out.

The kid didn’t seem surprised, “How long do we stay with them?”

“Three years. We get moved after our fourteenth birthday. Single family placement instead of a group home. It was better.”

His foster dad kicked the shit out of him, but anything was better than being exorcised. Kid didn’t need to know that. “And when we’re fourteen, we meet Sanders. He’s an old dude who owns a junkyard. He teaches us to fix cars, and lets us crash on his couch sometimes. That’s where I work now. I can fix anything. We can fix anything.”

That felt important, but Michael didn’t want to make it awkward so he peeled back the covers so the kid could tuck himself inside.

“How did you know Alex was missing a leg? He doesn’t stand funny.”

The kid shrugged, “he had a fancy crutch leaning against the fireplace. Those mean there’s something really wrong. I just guessed his leg was messed up. I didn’t know it got blown up.”

Michael sighed, “Can you lay off of bugging him about it? He’s doing us a favor.”

“Yeah.” Mikey thought for a second, and then continued, “I really AM curious about the leg though. I wasn’t JUST being an asshole. I really do want to see how it all connects.”

Michael rubbed his forehead, “maybe he’ll show you later, just… can you relax with messing with him? He’s not gonna get mad and hit you. I’ve pissed him off as a grown up, and he never hit me, he’s definitely not gonna touch you.

The kid shrugged noncommittally.

“By the way, we’re bisexual.”

“What?”

Michael repeated, “You asked earlier if we were gay. We’re bisexual.”

“Huh.”

“Don’t act surprised. We had a crush on Taymon Johnson in fifth grade.”

The kid protested, “No we didn’t! He was just cool!”

Michael raised an eyebrow.

“Oh.” The boy looked like he was reassessing every hero he ever had.

“Yeah. Oh. And yes, Alex and I had a thing, but we’re just friends now and it’d be awesome if you’d cut out the ‘are you fucking’ line of questioning.”

The kid smirked, “Aren’t you about to go have a bisexual slumber party with him?”

Michael narrowed his eyes, “Yeah, a totally platonic slumber party. We’re friends now.”

The kid raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up.” Michael rolled his eyes and pulled the quilt up around the boy’s chin. People never tucked in kids like Michael Guerin. Not foster parents anyway. Sometimes if he got to go to a slumber party at a classmate’s house, a well meaning mom would also tuck him in. Once a mom kissed his forehead before she shut off the lights. He didn’t know that was a real thing that happened sometimes. Michael always assumed it was just in movies. He felt stupid when he realized it was real, it just wasn’t for kids like him.

With his stomach twisting up at that memory, Michael dug in his pocket and pulled out the switchblade he took from the kid that afternoon. “I’m giving you this back because I’m trusting you not to stab anyone, and I know you’ll sleep better if you have it. And I know you’re gonna want to go to Foster’s Ranch.” The kid opened his

mouth and Michael cut him off, “I KNOW. But the military bought it, and the last thing we need is an alien hanging out on top secret government property. Plus the hitchhiking didn’t always work out well for us. So let’s just not, okay?”

The kid clutched the knife and begrudgingly nodded.

“Go to sleep. We’ll figure out the rest of this tomorrow.”

***

Michael closed the door to the bedroom behind him. “Kid is in bed. Doubt he’ll sleep much tonight, but at least I’ve got him all tucked in.”

Alex was making puzzled faces at his laptop. “I keep looking at the glyphs on your disk. I don’t recognize most of them and we translated ‘child, memory, temporary’ but there are more glyphs on the back.” He squinted, “This may say ‘permanent.’ Guerin, I don’t know how this disk works. I don’t know what you did.”

Alex scrubbed at his hair, frustrated. With a sharp exhale, he closed the laptop and tucked it away. Michael watched Alex slip into bed and swallowed hard, “I can still sleep on the floor if you want. I’m used to it.”

“We can share. It’s fine.”

Michael tried one more time, “I could go sleep in your creepy murder bunker. That’s an extra bedroom.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, “Do you WANT to sleep in the creepy murder bunker?”

“No. It’s a creepy murder bunker.”

“Okay, so stop being weird about this and come to bed. I promise I won’t cuddle you in your sleep.”

Michael muttered under his breath, “I wish.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. He unbuckled his belt and reached for the button of his jeans when he suddenly stopped. The words burst out of him, “I should have figured out the stupid Saturday thing earlier. I was in that group home for three years.” Michael turned to face Alex, “I didn’t stop getting weird about Saturdays until senior year when I lived in the truck.”

Alex watched him from his side of the bed, face still pressed against his pillow. “My dad played mind games like that too. He liked creating obstacle courses for me and my brothers. Last one to finish got his ass kicked by my dad. I’m two years younger than Flint. Unless one of my brothers was incapacitated, I was always the one who lost. Every time they had us run a course in basic training, it was like I could see my dad waiting at the finish line with his thumbs stuck in his belt.”

Alex paused, “maybe it’s good. Having Mikey here. Maybe it’s time to work through some of this stuff.”

“You sound like Isobel.” Michael shucked his pants off, and pulled his shirt over his head in one practiced move. His clothing sat in a rejected pile on the floor and he slid under the covers, Alex’s knees almost touching his thigh.

“Is she wrong? Neither one of us talk about it. We just pretend everything is fine.”

Michael turned on his side to face Alex with a huff, “Everything IS fine!”

“If everything was fine, we would have kept dating after high school and we’d probably have a dog by now. Instead I became a runner, and you like to self-destruct.”

They were silent a minute. Michael admitted, “I didn’t self-destruct after high school because of you. There were other things. You were one of the only good things in my life.”

“I know.” Alex touched Michael’s hand, rubbing a thumb across his knuckles. “You were a good thing in my life too.”

Michael closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see how his next statement landed, “you still are. You still are a good thing.”

Alex pushed his head forward so their foreheads touched on the pillows. “You are my good thing too.”

Michael exhaled, “What are we doing?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want you to stop answering a question with another question.”

Alex tilted his face and lightly pressed his lips to Michael’s. “Is this okay?”

Michael answered by cupping Alex’s cheek and pulling him in for a deeper kiss. It had been too long since someone touched him this way. Too long since Alex touched him this way. They were hungry for each other. Knees knocked together awkwardly under the covers as they tried to press their chests flush to each other, wanting as much skin touching as possible. Finally feeling like they could both breathe.

Michael wormed his arm underneath Alex so he could pull him closer. He keened as Alex threaded a hand through his curls and tugged just slightly. Michael’s hand drifted down Alex’s cheek, stroking his shoulder, then disappearing beneath the covers. His fingers stroked down Alex’s stomach, and dipped just under the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Alex pulled back with a gasp, “wait.”

The hand retreated immediately.

“No I want to. I want to. It’s just…” Alex panted against Michael’s lips, “I don’t want to screw this up. We’re really really good at the sex parts, and not so great at the communication parts. So maybe we should…”

“Focus on communication?” Michael asked.

Alex kissed him lightly, “Yeah. Yeah, I don’t want to pause but… I don’t want to fall into old patterns. I want to build something new with you. Something stronger. Plus there’s an eleven year old sleeping on the couch twenty feet away.”

Michael returned his hand to Alex’s cheek. “Is this okay? Hands above the waist at all times?”

Alex smiled with his lips still pressed to Michaels, “Yeah. That’s good. Let’s do that for awhile.”

Michael could feel Alex’s heartbeat thump against his chest. He could feel the swell of Alex’s belly with each inhale, his skin sliding against his own as they breathed in unison. He sent a trinkle of power to turn off the lights, and tugged Alex tight against him. Michael’s nose nuzzled down into the dip of his shoulder, rubbing his face into the curve and breathing deeply. His whole world smelled like Alex, and it felt right. He could feel Alex sigh against his hair, and his hand massaging the back of his neck, occasionally venturing up to play in his curls. And Michael let himself close his eyes and drift off to sleep.

***

Michael woke up suddenly. There was a new connection in his head that he hadn’t noticed. The places where he could sometimes sense Max and Isobel were muted after decades of practice. That connection had atrophied and he never tried to repair it. But now there was a sudden feeling of distress that could only be coming from Mikey.

He slipped from the bed, pulled on a shirt to go with his boxer briefs, and with bare feet, padded his way to the living room. The kid was sitting up, hugging himself with fists twisted around the loose material of his nightshirt, and breathing shakily.

Michael crouched next to the couch, “Bad dream?”

The kid didn’t even look at him. He just shrugged and tried to calm his breathing.

“Can I touch you? Or no?”

Mikey took a second, then nodded. Michael sat behind him and rubbed his hands down the kid’s trembling arms, like he was trying to warm him up. Michael remembered nightmares like this. Where he woke up not sure what feelings were real and what feelings were memories. Phantom pains lingering from his nightmares, that could only be soothed away by proving it was just a dream. His body was safe. He was okay.

The kid took a deep breath, then another. His hands unlocked from his sides and he leaned his back against Michael’s side. Michael let his arm rest heavily against the boy’s chest, like a seat belt grounding him to this world.

“Better?”

Mikey nodded and let his head thunk back against Michael’s shoulder. During the day he’d never allow this comfort, but in the dark, after a nightmare, he needed it even though he’d never admit it. Facing away from his older self, he had the courage to admit, “Nightmare. They were hurting me. … And they had Max and Isobel.”

“Those are the worst. I hate the dreams where I’m being hurt, but if Max and Isobel are there too…” Michael exhaled sharply, “Do you want to call them? So you know they’re safe? They won’t care if we wake them up.”

Michael would never call his siblings over a bad dream, but he knew in his bones they’d never mind a phone call from the kid. It felt okay to offer this to the kid.

“I don’t even LIKE Max or Isobel.”

“Yeah, I don’t always like them either. But they’re still mine. They’re still family. And the idea of someone hurting them makes me want to set the world on fire.”

They sat on the couch in silence. Mikey would never ask for a hug, and Michael wouldn’t volunteer one. But with the boy leaning against him, and his arm slung around him, it felt like a hug. They both felt settled. Like their bodies weren’t being flung into a nebulous nightmare void where everything bad could and would happen. They both felt real. They were on Alex’s couch, in Alex’s living room, in Alex’s cabin. They were safe.

[hazytaezy]

to a tea. (m) ksj

pairing: jin x reader

word count: 3,923 (not proofread because I’ve been sitting on this fic for two fucking months and I can’t wait any longer bsbdfsbdkj. jin in this universe has been consuming mY LIFE.)

genre: doorman jin, really good friends au, pwp (kinda cause I just build a story around (y/n) finally nailing jin lmao), so that being said smuttiness does ensue!!!, humor because once again I do think I am a comedian

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, language,

“jin is just your doorman. but he’s also your best friend. and you also want to fuck him.”

The giant spinning door leading into your apartment building was both a gift and a curse. A gift because most people found it too complicated and just decided to not come in. Solicitors, guests, bad dates…the list goes on. A curse because, we because of right now. You’re stood staring at the mound of groceries that had just fallen moments ago from your hands. A lone apple still rolling and rolling farther away into the abyss of the front lobby.

Where the hell was Jin?

Lately, when you needed him most, he was no where to be found. In fact, you felt like he was playing opposites because he actually decided to be there during the most inopportune times. Such as a few weeks ago, when you stumbled in with your blind date. Tongues dancing and hands roaming. You felt yourself press against the front desk and was allllllllmost slipping into a blissful euphoria when you heard a throat clearing. There he was, in all his glory. Jin- the doorman. He peered up at your from his seated position and he didn’t have to say a word, but the smug look across his face told you enough. You were never going to hear the end of it. Ever. It took you a full week and a dozen batches of homemade brownies to convince him to stop teasing you.

The bell on the elevator chimed as you were stuffing stray produce back into your bags. Jin got off, arm linked with Miss Roosevelt’s, grinning down at the elderly woman. She had been living in this building since it was developed in 1945 and made fast friends with everyone who had lived there. You had been over to her apartment many times. Mostly, because the mailman was always confusing her apartment for yours. So, it became a weekly ritual to deliver the swapped mail to each other.

Jin carefully removed his arm from hers and pushed the front door wide open. A strong gust of autumn wind blew through the front lobby. Just cold enough to pull tears from your eyes. You watched as he safely tucked her into a cab and sent her off, waving goodbye.

“You know, you do such nice things, so it makes it hard for me to hate you.” Once he had re-entered the lobby you felt the need to share that thought in your mind. Choosing to channel all of your annoyance in re-bagging your groceries.

“Good evening to you too, (y/n).” He jogged towards the other side of his desk and picked up the apple that was somehow still rolling around everywhere as if it had a mind of its own.

“I would just like to remind you that you are my doorman too. Thank you very much!” Reaching out, you tried to snatch the apple from his grasp. But now he was holding it high over his head. Gazing down at you in enjoyment.

This mood of yours- it was always his favorite. Mostly because of the way you would puff your cheeks out when you got annoyed. It was cute. He always wondered to himself how someone so small could be filled with so much fire.

After running the apple across the breast of his suit jacket, he took a satisfying bite, pieces of it peeking through his smile. “How did you know I liked honey crisps?”

“Lucky guess.” You huffed out. The bags were finally hooked over your shoulders, but you didn’t remember them being this heavy on the way out from the store. And definitely not on the subway. And the four blocks you had to walk to get here.

“Give me those bags.” Jin reached out and pulled them away from your grip. You would usually refuse any additional help from him. After all, he was just the doorman. He was only supposed to open doors and greet you from the lobby. That was it. No where in his job description did it say that he would help elderly ladies to their taxi’s or carry groceries up to apartments. That was just Jin being Jin. But if you really stopped and thought about it. You were much past that point anyways. He had started working at the building just around the same time that you moved in a few years ago. A few “good evening’s” blossomed into a friendship that you would be devastated not to have. He was your best friend. And you practically spent every night with him at his desk talking about your days.

“My hero.” You stuck your tongue out at him as you pushed your floor’s button.

“Don’t forget it either.” He smirked and turned to rest against the railing of the golden elevator.

…………………………………………………………..

To put it in the nicest way possible, it was a shit day. You didn’t see any other way to describe it.

When you came through the door, Jin was luckily speaking with another tenant so he didn’t get to see your puffy eyes and reddened face. Who are you kidding anyways. The fact that you are home early would raise some questions. And after a few hours locked in your apartment, as if on cue, those very questions came.

You wanted to ignore the incessant buzzing of your intercom, but it had been going on for a solid five minutes now.

“What!” You pressed the talk button until your finger turned white. It was meant to come out as annoyed, but it had been hours since you had gotten up off of the couch and you had maybe dozed off a few times. So, it came out as more of a meek and measly statement.

“Come downstairs. I have tea.” The intercom popped and you glanced down at your current state. When you had gotten in the door, you immediately stripped yourself of your bleak work clothes and jumped into the matching kitten pajama set your Mom had gotten you last Christmas.

Jin could be demanding. Who did he think he was talking to? Saying “come down.” And “I have tea.” Knowing full and damn well you would march yourself right down there.

When the elevator doors popped open, he let out a long string of giggles and eventually let himself full on belly laugh. “For your information,” you grabbed one of the mugs he was holding “this is Louis Vuitton.” You pointed towards the gold kittens scattered along your pants.

“No it isn’t.” He leaned back in his chair and lightly blew on the lip of his mug. Smirk blazing as hot as his Earl Grey.

“It could be.” You perched yourself on the top of the front desk and glared down at him over mug.

“So…are you going to tell me why you busted through the doors frazzled this afternoon or am I going to have to bribe you with more tea?”

Your thumb ran over the handle of the mug, catching a drop of tea running down the side. “Well, I was fired so…”

“Oh.” Jin sat up straighter in his chair and began to be a bumbling idiot.

“I’m sorry.”

“Uh..I..that’s awful.”

“What can I…I mean like, is there anything I can do?”

You let yourself crack a smile as you gazed down at him. “Wow Jin, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you tongue tied.”

The first time I’ve ever let you see me this way, Jin thought.

“But really. It’s okay. It wasn’t anything I did. It was budgetary. They couldn’t afford me anymore.” Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Jin’s hand hesitantly moved towards your own. When you finally looked down at your own, he latched his hand on top of yours and let his fingers trace over your knuckles.

Maybe it was the way he touched you, and it wasn’t something you two did often, but you felt something like a surge go through your body. And so that made you want to reach out and touch his face.

So you did.

And he let you.

He got up to stand and wrapped his arms around you, pulling your face to rest against his head. From the few hugs that you and Jin have shared, this one was becoming your favorite. He smelled like a bookstore, but in the best way possible. New pages, fresh ink. It was one you wouldn’t forget. And the small ministrations he would do when he hugged. The tiny movements of his fingers. The gentle humming. You just wanted to curl up and tuck yourself into the pocket of his jacket.

When you both pulled away, he dropped his hands down to rest next to your thighs on the marble desk. You let your eyes drop down to his lips and your mind wondered for a fleeting moment. It’s not like you haven’t ever thought about kissing him, but this time it was something greater. Almost like if you did, it would magically make all of your problems go away. You thought you might be going crazy. I mean there wasn’t a single chance that he was possibly leaning into you.

So when you hopped off his desk, you peered down at your hands and they were shaking. You stuffed them into your hair to keep them busy. “I’m, uhh, I’m gonna go back up. Bye.” You repeatedly hit the up arrow on the elevator and stepped inside. You jammed the door close button as you watched Jin’s silent frame slide away.

…………………………………………

Well. What now.

You can’t go downstairs. He will be there. And this is what? Your third consecutive day inside.

If your calculations were correct, Jin was up for a night off. And you were never wrong about these things. You couldn’t be. That night was tonight. He usually took an evening off and came back to his post and started a shift for the next day at 12 midnight. This would give you plenty of time to go to the grocery and restock at the tea shop.

At this point, you were two bites away from turning into a pop tart. Seeing as how that’s all you had left from your last grocery visit.

Drops of water kept falling from your hair and hitting the top of your foot. You were too broke to have your groceries delivered, but too scared to go out and get them yourself. You had half a mind to climb down the first escape in your robe. Actually… that wasn’t such a bad idea.

You had your window pulled open, leg rising to step out into the cold city air, when you heard knocks at your door.

Through the peephole you could make out Jin’s perfect head.

What the hell was he doing here?

Upon further inspection, he was not dressed in his usual uniform. More casual. Plus a leather jacket. One that made your eyes linger across his shoulders for longer than they should have.

Before you could even get the door fully open, he was speaking. “Hi. I, umm, I got these.” He lifted four grocery bags that were wrapped around his hands. He also had a teapot tucked underneath his left arm. Wordlessly, you moved to the side, signaling him to come in.

“I have a teapot you know.”

Jin scoffed as he set the groceries on your kitchen table. “You have a glorified water warmer. And it only makes one cups worth of water. You are weak if you brew water for tea and only drink one cup.”

You hadn’t moved from your front hallway. You were too busy taking in Jin’s movements. He carefully took out each ingredient from the bag. You would help him, but your feet felt like they were cemented to the ground.

“Where are your cutting boards?” He turned to face you.

“What?”

“Your curling boards?” He had a smirk creeping up on his face. You wanted to reach out and press your fingers in an action to swipe it away.

“No, I know what you said. But what are you doing? Why are you here Jin?”

He breathed in deep. And you wanted so badly to screw your eyes shut, but you couldn’t pull them away from his frame. In all honesty, you wanted to know every single detail about his days since the last time you saw him. But delving into that conversation would lead you to wonder if he had been thinking about you too these past few days. And was his mind spinning every time he thought of you like yours was with him. Was he playing a round of kickboxing with his stomach when he saw something that reminded him of you? Because you sure were. Every single minute of your days has been Jin. And only Jin.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. Look, you ran off so fast the other night. And then I didn’t see you for a million years after that. I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay.” Until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to you how Jin felt in that moment on that night. Being left alone sitting at the front desk.

You didn’t know how many rounds of jenga you had been playing, but what you did know is that you were about to win. By the look of Jin’s face, he already knew his fate as well. The jenga blocks came crashing down and a few sprinkled into your empty bowls from dinner. After finally showing Jin where your cutting board was, he proceeded to make what you would call probably the best meal you’ve ever had in your life.

You pulled yourself up onto the couch as he called for you from the kitchen. “Rose or Lavender?”

“Rose!”

You felt a lurch in your stomach at the though of a life with Jin. Him calling out what flavor of tea to brew was so…domesticated. And it made your mind wander on how it would feel to press a good morning kiss to his lips. How it would feel to send him off downstairs and even though you two were apart, just knowing that you were in the same vicinity would be enough.

You snapped back into reality when you felt a warm mug being pressed into your hands. Jin had settles down next to you and you watched him bring the mug up to his lips. A bit of tea tickled down the bow of his lips and your hand was itching to wipe it away.

“So what’s next? Job hunting? Seeing the world? Staying locked in this apartment?” Jin laughed and you took note of the way his eyes would glitter when he was laughing.

“Uhh, well, I think what’s next is probably moving out.” Your hands reached down to pick loose threads on the couch. “I can’t afford this place without a steady income. Plus, it’s the city, you know.” You brought your hands up to your face, because you honestly thought you might cry again. After they had given you the news, you had left work with a bleary, tear smeared face. You had thought you had cried enough tears to fill the river across from the apartment, but in this moment you felt them pricking your eyes once more.

Jin wrapped his arms around your shoulder and brought you to sit closer with him on the couch. For a moment, you let yourself rest against his chest. It felt safe. Like you would wake up tomorrow with a job and how things figured out somehow.

“I’m sorry.” You pulled away to stare up at him. “I didn’t think I’d be this upset. It’s just this place has become a part of me. And things have finally become to feel like home for me. Places…” You hesitantly glanced away from him. Unable to look at him, because even your own mind was coming to terms with this reality. “…even people are home to me here. I’m not ready to give that up.”

………

When you woke up, it wasn’t exactly jarring, but you were having difficulty opening your eyes. You grabbed the clock by the couch and it was well after 12 am. Jin must have left after you sat there practically crying into his arms. The last thing you remember was your head hitting his lap as he held you.

The kitchen was spotless. Almost like they hadn’t just been in here making a mess with dinner. There was a note taped to the kitchen counter. The closer you got, you observed that it had two tan pills with arrows pointing towards it. “Take these when you get up. It will make you have less of a headache tomorrow.- Jin.”

Upon further inspection before he had written the dash, you could make out a loopy “L” written in Jin’s cursive.

It was normal to have your stomach doing flips.

This is what you told yourself.

But the more you tried to fight the thought off, the more it came crashing in like a dam that had broken. Jin was the one you went to when you needed comfort, a laugh, or just someone to be with.

He was your best friend. And you loved him. Or rather you were IN love with him. Both really.

So that was it then.

As your feet padded against the hallways towards the elevator, you were making your mind up. You rarely treated yourself and this was one thing that your mind wasn’t going to let go.

When the door opened to the lobby, you could see him sitting at the front desk. He was hunched over, engrossed in some book, so much so that he hasn’t popped his head up to meet yours.

“Hey.” You tossed your keys on his desk and his head shot up to the sound. You watched as his eyes warmed to the sight of you. Ugly pajamas and all. “(Y/n). Hey.” His tone was just a few steps above a whisper and that only made the gymnastics that your stomach was doing magnify.

“You forgot something upstairs.” You said matter of factly. Wrapping around the corner of his desk, you dove towards his body. Your hands found their way around his neck as you planted your lips right on your target. Much to your surprise, it didn’t take long for him to reciprocate. His hands shot up to grip your waist and pulled you to sit in his lap. You felt your back bump against his keyboard and tipped it off of his desk, but you both were too enraptured in each other.

He pulled you around the corner back towards where you came from. When the bell chimed for the elevator, you were too spellbound by his touch to question what he was doing. The whole ride back up to your place, his hands never left your body. Choosing not to dwell on one place for too long.

Then, so choreographically and perfect, you danced your way down the hall to your place. Tongues peeking. Teeth bumping. Years of underlying want finally bubbling to the surface. While Jin had a gentle demeanor, he was a man that knows what he wants. And in this moment, he is unashamedly relishing in the fact that he has you in his hands.

Many nights were spent wondering what you would look like as he peeled off those damn pajamas. So now, as he’s tracing the waistband of your underwear with his middle finger, he can’t help but stop to take a mental picture. You are rested back with your hair splayed out around your head like a halo. Fitting, he thought, an angel on Earth.

Your hands travelled up to lock around his neck once more, pulling his face closer to yours, not wanting another minute to pass by without your lips on his. He dipped his hands lower past your waistband and ran his index finger past your heat. He looked up to gauge your reaction and rather than speaking, you lifted your hips up to meet his palm, and rocked against it. This drew a sigh of pleasure from you that only drove Jin’s desire for you into greater heights.

It didn’t feel as unknown as you thought it would. As he guided one finger inside of you, your hands instinctively reached up to grip his shoulders. He stopped, fearful that he was hurting you, but it was quite the opposite. “Sorry, it just- it feels so good. I haven’t been touched in a while.” Embarrassment washed over you for a moment until Jin leaned into the crook of your neck, peppering kisses along your jaw. “You’re all mine now.”

He drew his face closer to meet his hand. Peeking his tongue out to run across your most sensitive area. “Jin.” You cooed, coming undone beneath him. Your fingers knotted into his hair as he brought you closer to your high, but not before you tugged his face up to look at yours. “Jin, I need you. I need you to be inside of me.” He snapped back and that was all it took for you to say. He fumbled with his belt and tried not to look like he was going to combust. The fact that you were laying here, asking for him to be in you. He just might burst here and now.

He spread you legs and positioned himself in-between your thighs. Slipping his head back and forth against you, spreading your arousal that was all for him. He liked rubbing against you and ever other stroke you would lift your hips up to meet his hands and he would slightly thrust in with each swipe.

The last time you lifted up, Jin grabbed your hips and thrusted down harshly, making both of her abdomens meet. You laid back against the bed and let him choose the pace as you were just happy that Jin, your Jin, was fucking you.

“You feel so fucking good. Fuck. This is better than I even imagined it would be. So much fucking better.” He panted in-between his words and you were too choked up from his thrusts to reply.

“Fuck. Keep. Fuck… Jin I’m close.” He reached down and rubbed against you with two fingers as both of you came to your highs.

He fell back against your bed and you both sat staring at the ceiling. Trying to catch your breath.

“That was.”

“Yeah.”

Jin turned and wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you so that you were nestled against his arm. “I hope that you won’t think I’m an asshole, but I really should get back to the front desk.” You giggled and shoved him away, looking for his pants that he had thrown somewhere on the bed.

“No, it was my fault anyways. I came down there and pulled you away.” You held his belt up to him as he buttoned his shirt.

“Please be ready at 10, that’s when I get off and we are going to have a breakfast date in bed.” He stopped short next to the bed. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

You grinned up at him and tugged him towards the bed. “I’ll be anxiously awaiting.” He captured your lips and you felt his hand run through your hair and tug on it lightly.

You watched his back as he left and you couldn’t help but feel calm in this moment. Thanking the universe for tea. And for Jin.

[stolethekey]

so, what’s the past for? i’ll need it if love don’t last long

notes: this is for @romanogersweek.

it feels a little weird to be posting fanfic right now, but i hope y’all take this as an opportunity to take a break from reading/donating/educating rather than one to leave. 

donate to the bail project here.

read on ao3

-

Steve Rogers, long ago, was the man who never ran. He was the man who faced down his problems and enemies indiscriminately, who spat in the face of both Nazi generals and the very idea that anything could keep him from fighting for a better world. He used to be the paragon of bravery, the man who worked to uphold his reputation as the symbol of courage his country held in the highest regard.

Until that one fateful day, when he’d decided to run—away from the death and destruction, away from the friends he’d seen suffer too much pain to be truly happy ever again, away from time itself. He ran, straight until another timeline, hardly conscious of what he was doing until he ended up standing on the doorstep of a woman he’d last seen lying peacefully in a casket.

By the grace of God, or maybe the devil, Peggy had been home that day. After she’d recovered from her shock, she’d welcomed him in, he’d asked almost clumsily for a dance, and when the music stopped she’d pulled back and said, “I want to introduce you to Daniel.”

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he likes Daniel. Daniel is sarcastic and witty but warm and solid—a safe place for Peggy’s often slightly-chaotic personality to land. So he’d shaken Daniel’s hand and accepted his invitation to stay for dinner and then stayed the night because, honestly, where else was he supposed to go?

And then one night turned into two, which turned into a week, and then Steve ended up staying in their house permanently. They established a general rule that he was not allowed to tell them about the future, but could contribute to strategy discussions about missions he had never heard about. He helped them during the day and tried to stay up helping them at night, except Peggy started chasing him to bed with a broom a few weeks in.

He’s never liked sleeping much, but after—well, after everything, he likes it even less. 

Some of the dreams he’s familiar with: the nightmares and memories full of too much blood and smoke and explosions that rack his imaginary body with tremors come initially, as he expects. Those he can deal with; those he has dealt with for years. The ones that he is markedly not equipped to deal with are the ones that come later: the ones that aren’t vague flashbacks or terrifying possible futures but vivid, specific memories, memories that leave him with an aching heart and stinging eyes when he wakes. 

Steve thinks this distinctly unfair, given that these memories haunt his waking moments too; but his life has never been fair, and so each night he succumbs to more and more detailed recollections of moments running infinitely around in his head. 

The worst ones are always about her. Those run his mind in what feels like slow motion, forcing him to relive even the most minute details of the days they were carefree and alive and happy, at least as much as they could be. He starts seeing flashes of vivid red hair and brilliant green eyes everywhere, and in his dreams, they’re inescapable. In his dreams, she’s inescapable. 

In his dreams, Natasha is always there. Sometimes, she’s perched in the passenger seat with her feet on the dashboard where he’d always hated them, laughing at him as he steers the car down an open country road, the two of them alone in the car in the middle of the night. He turns the music up to drown out her laughter and she smirks, promptly deciding to sing along to the sounds of Out of the Woods coming through the stereo instead.

“Come on,” she coaxes, her voice still viscerally real in the layers of his unconsciousness. “I know you know this song.”

“I will not,” he says, but a smile is still floating unwittingly to his lips, and by the time he pulls into the open clearing he’s belting are we in the clear yet, in the clear yet, good with a fervor that would impress any concert crowd. 

Sometimes, it starts in that clearing, with him shutting off the car and the two of them lingering in the darkness for a moment. He pulls open her car door, the moonlight filtering into the seat and casting a soft, silver glow over her features. She comes willingly, laying a blanket on the ground with a flourish as she steps out of the vehicle. 

“When did Tony say it was starting, again?”

Steve checks his watch, and he’s seen this dream enough times to know exactly where the second hand is going to be when he does. “Five minutes.”

They settle onto the blanket, side by side, and he glances over at her. “What was the first shooting star you ever saw?”

She meets his gaze, her smile soft and nothing like the cold, calculating grin she’d given a certain arms dealer mere hours before. There is a brief moment of hesitation, and then she smirks. “You.”

His mouth falls open before he digs an elbow into her side, and she laughs. “Get it? Because you had a gun, and that stupid star on your uniform—”

“Yeah, yeah, a shooting star,” he groans, letting his head fall back onto the ground. “Shut up.”

She does, but only because the atmosphere around them tangibly changes—Steve feels it too. A second later, a jet of silver streaks across the sky, and Natasha sucks an audible breath through her teeth. 

He looks over at her, and watches the second meteor through the reflection in her eyes—the silver makes them glean, and she grins at him. 

“Enjoying the view?”

He shoves her, she laughs, and he thinks he could live in this moment forever. 

Sometimes, they’re standing on top of a massive hill, gazing at the city of Rome, beautiful and regal below them. And even though it’s a dream, he can feel the heavy exhaustion of a battle just fought seeping into his bones, can sense the relief of another disaster narrowly averted cloaking his shoulders. 

Natasha reaches for him, the streak of blood on her face looking real enough to touch, and gazes out at the sprawling city beneath the hill. “I almost wish we could stay,” she murmurs. 

She doesn’t voice the rest of the sentiment—that they could stay here, in this world away from the world, and live normal lives. Become normal people, people who window shop and sit in cafes and don’t have to save the world every other day.

She doesn’t say it, because she knows he understands, and also because they both know it’s impossible.

“Me too.”

There are other dreams, too—dreams where they’re both tired and sad and frustrated; dreams where their friends have been snapped into thin air and the ones that haven’t been are gone too. 

There are dreams where they’re the only two people left in the gigantic, designed-for-at-least-fifty-residents Avengers facility, where he walks into a room with zero lights on and her crying. 

“You know, I used to think it was hard to tell when you were scared,” he says, trying valiantly to lighten the mood. “But not so much anymore.”

She looks at him ruefully through her tears. “You don’t have to do this every time.”

He shrugs and gives her the best smile he can muster. “I have no idea what you mean. I’m just passing by, and I don’t want to leave you if you’re crying.”

She glares at him, but gives a half-laugh, and he moves to sit next to her. He doesn’t say that he knows she tries to hide from him when she’s crying, that he actively tries to find her when he hasn’t seen her in a few hours. He doesn’t tell her that he needs her there, by her side, that he’s terrified he’s going to lose her, finally, irrevocably, for real, every time it happens.

Her tears subside, every time, and every time he leaves once they do. She lets him go, turning back toward the screens with a sigh, and he watches her back straighten as she goes back to business. 

Never, in any of the dreams or memories or whatever they are at this point, does he stay. He would if she asked him to.

And then there’s the worst one, from the night before that day, where she shows up at his door before curfew with a bottle of wine in one hand and a key in the other. 

“It’s for my apartment,” she says, placing it gently in his hand. “Just in case.”

She cuts off all of his protests with a sad, firm smile, then uncorks the bottle of wine and pours it into two of his water glasses. 

They talk, about everything and nothing, and at one point she perches on his bed and tucks her knees into her chest. 

“I don’t know if anything is ever gonna go back to normal,” Natasha says quietly. “It all feels broken, somehow. Unfixable.”

“What does?”

“Everything,” she says, gesturing at the walls around them. “Life itself.”

He doesn’t know why that hurts a little to hear, but he shrugs and stands anyway. “We still have to try. For everyone.”

“I know,” she murmurs, draining the last of her wine and standing too. “Trust me, I know.”

It’s the last real conversation they have, and it’s always the last one that plays before Steve wakes. 

For weeks, Steve gets out of bed in the morning with tears staining his cheeks and a rush to the bathroom to collect himself, but Peggy intercepts his mad sprint one day and forces him to sit at the kitchen table and talk. He says he doesn’t want to and she gives him a withering glare that would probably topple a wall of solid rock.

He tells her about Natasha, about the aliens, the assassins out to kill them, the Accords. He doesn’t tell her about HYDRA, or about the midnight drives, the shooting stars, about Rome.

Peggy seems to understand anyway, and for some reason the sympathy in her eyes melts away some of the ache in Steve’s chest.

When he runs out of stories to tell, he starts talking about her past, about the way she was taken from her parents as a child and then trained in the Red Room.

“Those ladies are tough,” Peggy says with an impressed nod. “One of them escaped my locked trunk after I’d tied her wrists and ankles, then shot a policeman with his own gun on her way out. And that was when I was trying to work with her.”

“Nat almost never obeyed orders after she had turned,” Steve says with a laugh. “I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like to try and work with her while she was still at the Red Room.”

“Well, she was the only one who could do the job. We needed her.”

Daniel snorts from where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter. “For the record, I thought it was a bad idea,” he mutters, earning him that exasperated but loving Peggy Carter glare that had once been reserved for Steve.

Steve is slightly surprised to find that he doesn’t mind at all. 

-

As the years go by, the memories become gradually less painful. The ache becomes a little duller, the wounds a little less fresh. The Carter-Sousa household adds a third long before children come into the picture, and they slip with only minor hiccups into a routine that works for everyone. Steve’s only allowed in public with a disguise, so while Peggy and Daniel are at work he spends his time drawing, cooking, cleaning, and generally being a good housekeeper. When they get home, he helps them with plans if he can and plays old card games if he can’t.

When the kids do arrive, Steve teaches and nurtures them as his own, and he gets through it with only vague stabs of pain as he remembers the Barton family. They know only that he is hiding from the world and that no one can know about him. They grow into strong, incredible adults, and when they move out Steve wipes away a tear that matches the ones coating Peggy’s and Daniel’s cheeks.

Peggy and Daniel are older, obviously, when the house goes back to holding only the three of them, and Steve starts picking up more of the dirty work. They both retire far later than most people would, finally admitting defeat to bodies that just can’t keep up with their younger colleagues and targets anymore. It’s hard, watching them become unable to do anything but gesture in frustration at the news, but it’s not as hard as it was to arrive at Peggy’s hospital bed, so many decades before. 

He’s had enough time, this time, with her. They’ve spent fifty years in the same household, they’ve had a life together. So he cherishes the wrinkles that now adorn her hands and the lines of her face, and he ventures outside to run errands with only the slightest twinge in his heart.

The only time he ever dislikes this whole arrangement is on a single grocery store trip.

He collects everything on his list with little issue, keeping his hood up and his head low as he peruses one particularly crowded aisle for the hot sauce Peggy likes. Nobody pays him any attention, and as Steve wheels his cart into the checkout lane he congratulates himself on a faultless grocery run—God knows he’s had some close calls.

One would think he’d have learned some lessons about celebrating too soon.

He’s aimlessly selecting a pack of gum and skimming magazine covers (Brad Pitt is the sexiest man alive this year, according to People) when he hears a laugh. 

An unmistakable, once life-affirming, thought-he’d-never-hear-it-again laugh.

His blood freezes over in his veins as his hands go slack, the Trident mint in his hand falling onto the conveyer belt and tumbling underneath a couple bags of Doritos. He stares at the fallen gum for a moment, not seeing it at all, before forcing himself to raise his head. 

She’s there, in the flesh, helping the customer in front of him—her nametag says Natalie, and her hair is darker than it was when he met her, but it’s definitely her, and Steve thinks he might faint then and there. His hand tightens around the cart as he fumbles his phone out of his pocket and stares at the date—November 15, 2000. Of course. 

Steve is desperately trying to find a way to get out of this when the woman in front of him takes her last bag and leaves with a grateful wave. Steve swallows thickly as Natasha beckons him forward, smiling brightly at him as she does. 

There is no recognition in her eyes—of course there isn’t—and something about being a stranger to her makes him want to grip the counter in front of him so tightly that it breaks.

She says something, but he doesn’t hear her; his ears are full of a roaring, sharp wind, and suddenly he’s back on a dark, foreign planet, a jagged cliff behind him and a limp body lying broken in front of him. He can feel the cold, tough dirt between his fingers again, can see the ice crystals forming on the strands of red hair he had run his fingers through so many times.

Her eyebrows knit together in mild concern as her mouth moves inaudibly once more, and Steve wrenches his mind back to reality. 

“Sorry,” he manages. “What was that, again?”

Natasha gives him a perfectly practiced customer-service smile and says, “How are you today?”

“Great,” Steve says, trying and failing to keep an edge of panic out of his voice. “Just dandy. You?”

“Well, you know, a little nervous,” Natasha says easily, swiping a can of chickpeas past the scanner. “It’s my first day on the job.”

He remembers. He also remembers her seated at the foot of his bed, playing with her hair while she told him about one of the first missions for SHIELD she’d ever failed.

“I was undercover as a cashier at a Safeway—”

“O-oh,” Steve sputters. “I’m sure you’re doing great.”

“Well, so far, so good—"

 “I had him, for a moment, and then I didn’t—”

“—But, you know, things can always change, right?”

Steve feels curiously as if his head is swimming, and he doesn’t think he can hear anymore. He wonders dimly if Peggy would find him, were he to faint in a grocery store. 

“He’d somehow stolen my nametag while we were scuffling and I didn’t even notice—”

“Um, sir?”

“He picked the lock with the pin—”

“Sir!”

Steve jumps. His hand smacks against his cart on the way up, the rattling of the metal doing nothing to calm his nerves.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head to clear it. “Did you say something?”

Natasha frowns, and the familiarity of the sight almost sends him back into the recesses of his brain. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, trying to sound unconcerned. “Yeah. Long day, sorry.”

She gives him a sympathetic smile and hits the keyboard. “That’ll be two hundred and one dollars and thirty-five cents. Paper or plastic?”

“Uh, paper,” Steve mutters, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Thanks.”

He takes the bags off the counter as soon as she fills them, trying his best not to look like he’s impatient but still trying to move as quickly as possible. When the bags are all in the cart, he grabs the handle and speed-walks away, throwing a feeble “thank you” over his shoulder. 

He looks behind him the entire way out of the store, relaxing slightly only when he turns the corner to a different area of the parking lot. Then, as he spots his car, he almost has his second heart attack of the day.

Natasha is standing next to the trunk with her arms crossed and a half-guarded, half-inquisitive look on her face. 

“Do I know you?” She asks as he shuts his eyes, desperately praying that this is a dream. 

Once it becomes clear that this is not, Steve takes a deep breath and resigns himself to whatever nightmare scenario happens next. 

“No,” he says hoarsely, unlocking his trunk and gesturing at her to move aside.

“But you know me,” she says matter-of-factly, taking a step to the left and watching him place the bags she’d just packed into his trunk. “At least, you seem to.”

Steve stays silent as he finishes loading his groceries and shuts the trunk door, then turns to face her. “I’d rather not do this here,” he says quietly. “Where I’m exposed.”

“Okay.” Natasha shrugs. “Follow me.”

She leads him into a small, dark alleyway behind the store. Steve thinks the overwhelming scent of garbage is going to rot his brains forever, but he does appreciate that they probably won’t be overheard.

“So,” Natasha prompts. “Who are you?”

Steve hesitates. He’s made it decades without telling anyone anything—besides Peggy and Daniel, of course—and a prickle of anxiety is creeping up his spine at the mere thought of saying the words out loud. 

On the other hand, that anxiety is nothing compared to the way he’s pretty sure his nerves are currently fraying at the edges, and he’s sure that Natasha would see right through him if he decided to try and lie his way out of this. 

Besides, if there’s one person who can keep a secret, it’s her.

He settles on a half-truth, one that gets him out of most of the hard conversations but is still hopefully enough to satisfy her.

“I’m, uh, from the future,” he says carefully. “I promise.”

Her eyes narrow, her natural skepticism overtaking her features. He can see her brain working, can see her scrutinizing his facial expression, his body language, anything that might betray a hint of a lie.

“I believe you,” she says finally. “Some of the tech I’ve seen being developed…well. Do you work for SHIELD?”

“I did.”

“So we worked together?”

He gives what sounds like a half-laugh, half-sob. If meteor showers and midnight drives and painful conversations overlooking the city of Rome are “working together”—

“You could say that.”

She bites her lip, assuming the thoughtful expression he knows to mean she’s trying to decide whether she wants to know the answer to whatever question she’s going to ask, then tilts her head slightly. “Can you tell me one more thing?”

Steve nods.

“When I die, have I contributed something good to this world?”

He almost chokes on his breath, staring at her with equal parts wonder and horror. “How—Why—"

“You were a little too surprised to see me,” Natasha says wryly. 

Half a century, apparently, is enough time to forget how well Natasha can read people. How well she can read him. 

“You give more to the world than you could imagine,” Steve says softly. “You save it. More than once.”

Her smile is more relieved than anything, and Steve wants to bask in its remnants forever. This is a younger Natasha, a less-worn Natasha—he’d almost forgotten how she’d looked before the snap, before she’d chosen to take on a burden that was far too heavy for anyone to carry.

This is the Natasha that he’d catch dancing in the early light of dawn, carefree and lost in her solitary art, even if it was just for a moment. The one that’d been lost five years before the rest of her was, too.

“Well,” she says as her watch beeps, breaking Steve out of his reverie, “I should get going. I assume you know I’m not actually here to bag groceries.”

“Of course.” Steve moves to leave, then turns back towards the disgusting, garbage-lined alleyway, suddenly aware that his next words are the last words he’s ever going to say to her. That he has a chance, now, to do what he hadn’t been able to do so long ago. 

He wants to tell her that the key to her apartment is still on his keychain, sandwiched between the keys to his car and his current house. He wants to tell her that his fingers brush against it as he unlocks the door or starts his engine; he wants to tell her that it’s the only thing he has left of her. That everything she has—everything they have—is going to be destroyed in about twenty years, that a big purple titan is going to ruin any hope he has of living a life that he is unequivocally happy with.

Instead, he says, “Take your nametag off before you go after him. Trust me.”

Maybe, in this timeline, she’ll remember. As she makes her decision on that icy, god-forsaken mountain, maybe she’ll think about today. Maybe she’ll think about this mission, the one that went smoothly, and wonder if he’d used his last words to make things a little bit easier. And maybe she’ll think about all the other ones, too, the ones where they fought side-by-side, and realize that this was him trying to do it one last time.

Her soul is hers, he knows—but he’ll help it move if he can.

The corner of her mouth ticks up in a half-smile. “Aye-aye, captain.”

He almost laughs.

[the-truest-sentence-i-know]

you are the one thing i did right

Fandom: The 100

Relationships: Bellarke; Bellarke & Madi

Summary: Basically just, what if Madi was Bellarke’s kid. Encompassing the end of s4 to the beginning of s5. One-shot.

Words: 2.3k

ao3 ||| ff.net ||| wattpad ||| quotev

It had been a long time coming, her and Bellamy. In the years that they had led side by side, they had borne so much responsibility it was a wonder they were not stooped over under the weight. But they had done it together.

And now, once again with lives in their hands – a list this time, not a lever; ninety-nine names in Clark’s handwriting, and one in Bellamy’s. His voice was gentle, his hand firm upon her shoulder, and when she looked up at him, she wondered why they had never crossed this line with each other before.

So when they did cross it, seconds later, lips soft and open like a promise kept, bodies meeting like hands clasped in prayer, begging an uncaring god that maybe for once, something good could happen to them.

They allowed themselves a moment of happiness, of pleasure, of arching backs and tangled limbs and a low murmur of, “princess.” They hardly had a chance to speak of it afterwards, in the flurry of hope and subsequent disappointment under the looming threat of nuclear apocalypse.

Before they had the chance to express any of the feelings that had burrowed their way so firmly into their hearts that it was like they had always been there, they were separated once again. Bellamy stared at the destruction as they took off, having not only lost his best friend, but also a chance at a maybe that had been on his lips since their first days on the ground.

And Clarke smiled through her tears as she watched her friends escaped the radiated Earth. “May we meet again.”

 Clarke did not realize she was pregnant until she had found the valley. She had first thought it the morning sickness was merely an effect of the radiation in the air, but in a few weeks, it was impossible to deny the bump.

Practically speaking, an abortion would have been best under the circumstances. However, she had neither the experience nor the equipment to do it safely and she had seen the efforts of botched procedures during her training on the Ark.

She had omitted it from her daily calls to Bellamy, although she was not quite sure why. She supposed that if the calls were actually making it through to him, she did not want to cause him to worry.

But she was terrified. While she knew all the practical and theoretical information, her situation was less than ideal. There was no telling whether her Nightblood would be passed on to the child – without which, it could not survive – and she had no way to check anything. What she really wanted was to be able to talk to her mom, but there was no way to.

One day, finally, she broke and grabbed the radio. “Hey, Bellamy,” she said. “If you can hear me, maybe listen to this in private, it’s kinda personal.” She took a breath. “We slept together, like two months ago, which you know… cause you were there.” She sighed, shaking her head. “And now I’m pregnant. And I didn’t want to tell you because you would worry and you can’t really do much from up there, but I can’t contact my mom in the bunker and I really need to talk to someone about it.”

She poured out her heart to the radio, with all the fears she had not dared to say out loud. “I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a mom,” she said finally. “I’ve messed up so many things, Bellamy. I can’t mess this up, because it’s a person. God, this would be so much easier if you were here. I work better with you around: the head and the heart.” She stared at the blue sky. “And you’re great with kids too.” She sighed. “But don’t worry too much about me. I have enough medical training and experience to do this.”

The wind whispered through the trees and Clarke closed her eyes for a moment, trying to picture Bellamy beside her, and imagine what he would say. And while no specific words came to mind, she saw his encouraging look, the silent expression she understood in a heartbeat. “I miss you.”

 Months passed. As she neared what she guessed was the ninth month, Clarke gathered extra food, smoking fish and drying berries to store.

“I guess I should start thinking about names.” Clarke laid on the ground next to the rover. “I knew you’re into Roman history, but I don’t know about having a kid named Julius, or Caligula.” She laughed. “Hadrian’s okay, I suppose. You know what: if it’s a boy, he can be August, like Augustus. If it’s a girl, I pick…” she mused. “Madi.” She smiled. “And then when she’s in trouble, she’ll be Madi Augusta Griffin-Blake. And yes, the child will be hyphenating.”

She stared at the sky, squinting even though she knew she couldn’t see the Ark. “You know, I’m so big now that I can’t even climb on top of the rover anymore.”

 Madi Augusta Griffin-Blake was born on a foggy morning two weeks later, after hours of labour. And when Clarke held her, tears of relief and joy mingling with the sweat on her face, she could not take her eyes off her. Madi blinked in the light of early morning and opened her mouth to cry.

Clarke held her close – gently, because she was so small – and whispered, “Your dad is going to love you and you’ll be so lucky to have him.” A few more tears slipped down her cheeks. “And we’re gonna do everything we can for you. You’re gonna be the thing that I, that we do right.”

Madi was a wide-eyed baby who became an inquisitive toddler – stubborn too, but Clarke managed to handle it. She wanted Madi to know everything she could need to survive on her own. She never said so explicitly, but she remembered being a kid sent down to Earth to die. And no matter what happened to her, Madi had to make it.

So by the time she was five, Madi could bandage a wound, set a bone, and pear fish and start a fire. She also knew the surviving members of the 100 by name, and Raven and Emori. And of course, Bellamy. With her drawings, Clarke ensured that Madi could recognize them – again, with the unspoken intention that if something happened to her, Madi would know who to trust.

She grew up to stories about them, and while she loved to hear them all, her request before bed was always the same.

“Tell me about Bellamy.”

Clarke smiled, sitting on the edge of Madi’s bed. The night was cool, and she snuggled under the blankets. “Bellamy Blake grew up on the Ark, like me. He has a sister named Octavia, who he cares very much about. He is strong and brave and has a really big heart.”

“Clarke,” Madi said sleepily. “When will they come back?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke said. “But they will… eventually.”

 Eventually came about two years later, when Madi was seven years old.

She had grown up in the valley, so even in the dark, she could run through the trees no problem. Ahead of her, figures with guns – three of them. She took out one with her spear and shot the other two. The gun – too big for her, really – gave some kickback, but she was able to handle it.

The three with guns had been ambushing a group of people in the clearing, cast in shadows, but they stood back defensively.

“She’s just a kid,” said one.

Madi stepped out of the shadows and stared – standing in front of her were Clarke’s drawings come to life: Monty, Harper, Emori, Echo, and, “Bellamy?”

They stared back.

“Clarke knew you’d come,” she said. Bellamy looked older than he had in Clarke’s drawings – they all did.

Bellamy spoke first, a slight tremor in his voice. “Clarke’s alive?”

Madi was quickly brought back to reality. “And she’s in trouble, we have to go.”

 Bellamy was not quite sure what to make of this kid. He was making the same calculations in his head that he knew they all were – was he the father? The rover bounced as he drove through the woods, following her directions.

“So what’s your name?” he asked.

“Madi,” she said. “Take a left here.”

“And Clarke is your…?” Harper asked.

“Mom. Clarke is my mom.”

Bellamy nodded. “Does anyone else live here?”

“Not till today,” she said. “Clarke thought it was you guys on that ship – we don’t know who they are.”

“We do,” Monty said quickly. “They’re bad news.”

“We’re getting close,” Madi said, reaching for her gun.

Bellamy stopped the rover in front of Diyoza and her people. “Madi, no,” he said. “Monty, get in the driver’s seat when I get out. When I signal, drive away, keep the kid safe.”

Madi looked like she wanted to protest.

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to Clarke.”

 Clarke blinked in the bright headlights of the rover. “Madi, no,” she whispered, but the figure that stepped out was not Madi – much too tall, but familiar.

“I’m unarmed, I just want to talk.”

The voice was as familiar as her own name and for a moment Clarke thought she was dreaming.

“Give me one good reason not to kill you where you stand,” Diyoza said.

“How about I give you two-hundred and eighty-three.” Clarke still could hardly see him, just his silhouette, but there was no doubt in her mind about who it was. “That’s how many of your people are gonna die if you and I can’t make a deal.”

Diyoza shifted and Bellamy raised his arm, signalling the rover to back away. He knew he should be focusing on Diyoza and the various men with guns, but Clarke was right there. All the feelings that he had been trying to get over for the past seven years came rushing back – perhaps they had never left.

“Two-hundred and eighty-three lives for one. She must be pretty important to you.”

Bellamy looked at her, trying to keep his emotions at bay. “She is.”

 Clarke was not dreaming, but a part of this still felt not real. Bellamy’s arms around her, Murphy and Raven’s voices on the radio, it all felt too good to be true.

The bunker was to be opened in the morning, so they had nothing to do for the night. Out of earshot of Diyoza’s people, Bellamy sat down beside her.

In the heaviness that settled in the air between them, Clarke knew what was coming next.

“I met Madi,” he said.

“Is she alright?”

“She’s fine, she’s with the others.” He stared at the wall in front of them and then glanced back at her. “Clarke, is she –?”

Clarke nodded. “Her full name is Madi Augusta Griffin-Blake.”

He smiled. “That’s a lot of name for a little kid.”

“Say’s the guy who named his baby sister Octavia,” Clarke said with a smile.

“Does she know?”

She nodded. “Mm-hm. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

Bellamy was quiet for a moment and then turned to Clarke, a hand on her knee. “You’re amazing, you know that? Raising her all on your own.”

“Well, she’s only seven, she isn’t fully raised yet,” Clarke said, putting her hand over his. “You’re not off the hook yet.”

“Good,” he said. “I don’t want to be.”

Clarke smiled and leaned into him. “I’m so glad to have you back.”

 It was a quiet afternoon – everyone was out and about, exploring the valley, but Bellamy found himself in Clarke and Madi’s house. It was cosy and very lived-in. On the table laid several sketchbooks. Bellamy smiled as he looked through Clarke’s drawings – of all their friends and family, of distinct scenes in their past. That was how Madi knew everything about them.

Not all the drawings were Clarke’s thought, many were Madi’s as well. He was looking at one – an imagined version of the Ark – when he heard the door open.

He turned to see Madi in the doorway. He smiled and held up the drawing. “So you’re an artist too, huh, just like your mom?”

She nodded, coming to stand beside him. “Drawing pictures of her stories made them more real.”

“They’re really good.”

Madi looked at him. “You’re just saying that cause you’re my dad.”

Bellamy shifted awkwardly. “We should probably talk about that.” He crouched so they could see eye to eye. “I know you don’t know me very well, but –”

“But I do,” she interrupted, grabbing one of Clarke’s sketchbooks, flipping through it. “I know about how you and Clarke didn’t like each other at first, and about you and Octavia, and ‘whatever the heck we want.’”

Bellamy smiled.

“And I know about the heart and the head.” She looked over at him. “And you’re my dad and it’s really nice to see you in real life.” She threw her arms around his neck and Bellamy was frozen for a moment before holding her tight.

From the doorway, Clarke smiled at the two of them. Bellamy saw her over Madi’s shoulder, and they shared a look; even after so many years apart, they understood each other. Clarke’s heart was close to bursting with happiness. Her only wish in the past few years had been to see them all together – and here it was right before her eyes.

“Lunch is ready,” she said finally.

Madi turned and smiled. She grabbed Bellamy’s hand, dragging him to the door.

“I’ve got an idea.” Bellamy crouched again. “Piggy-back ride?”

Madi’s face exploded into a beaming grin as she clambered onto his back. Bellamy rose carefully and Clarke rolled her eyes at him, smiling. He ducked under the door and took Clarke’s hand. The three of them walked out together.

[kheta]

3 for 1 AU’s

Hikaru no Go shizz.

Three au’s I probably won’t write, but need to get the ideas out.

1) Sai a Paediatrician with Anxiety™ and Hikaru, who will pull him kicking and screaming into the world of Professional Go.

Featuring:

A) 23 year old Sai’s strict but loving family, who had pressured him into being a medical student, he tried to negotiate being a nursing student but they wouldn’t have it, so now he's doing his first year of work following graduation at the hospital his parents own shares in, because he likes helping families out. He’s passionate about his career and is happy enough to leave Go to the side. After all, Go is just a hobby, he’s not even that good, right? (WRONG! WRONG ON MANY ACCOUNTS!)

Sai learnt Go from his Uncle and was unreasonably obsessed with the game, studying kifu and tsumego for hours and going to Go salons when he had free time all his life. He’s never been as passionate as anything as he had been about Go, but succumbing to his parents pressure he gives up his dreams of playing Go professionally, instead dedicating his life to helping people and making his parents proud.

Hikaru is a 15 year old kid with a badly broken leg that he soundly ignored for much too long, which finds him in the very hospital that Sai is working in. Sai gets attached to Hikaru and because the kid can’t do much but play video games (on the console that everyone shared in the Play Room) and board games (that are mostly missing pieces and tattered) he finds himself drawn into playing Go with his Grandpa and Sai, the nice but whiny doctor who likes to hang around work and interact with the family’s there during his spare time. 

When he learns how to actually play and make sense of Go, Hikaru stops calling Sai nice, because the guy was an actual monster when it came to Go, soundly thrashing both children and adults unlucky enough to ask for a game, even his Shindou-go was reliant on the fact that his students saw what paths he’d create for them.

After a year in hospital and three surgeries later, Hikaru is out of hospital with the unfortunate news that he can no longer play soccer competitively, despite being other wise healthy. He then just slams himself into the world of Go, becoming just obsessed as Sai. 

Both Sai and his grandfather want him to consider going Pro, especially considering the improvements he’s made in a few short months, but he resolutely refuses, even when he becomes flushed with challenges on Net Go. His reasoning? He won’t become a pro unless Sai himself can honestly tell him that he’s happy with only playing Go in his spare time. If he’s happy with the few games he manages to play.

On the flip side of this verse, no one knows who the mysterious and infuriating hikaru is, nor do they know who he studied off of, after nearly 15 straight losses on Net Go however, hikaru suddenly starts winning more and more of his games, able to go toe to toe against some of the known Professional players online, even if he himself was obviously still learning the game. Yoshitaka Waya knows only one thing, whoever this brat is, he’s gonna regret the day he called him an ‘over aggressive know-it-all with poor defence.’  2) Hikaru the Soccer Player.

Hikaru is the cheerful, popular first string midfielder for his school’s soccer club, and Akari is their team manager. Together the duo have helped their middle school and high-school team reach the national winter soccer festivals three years in a row. Despite being a calm, calculated mid-fielder and being captain of his Middle School team, Hikaru has never been invited to any J.League tryouts, mostly because scouter’s say that he plays a relatively risk free game, with a low risk-low reward steadfastness that doesn’t reflect his competitive mentality.

Akari is one of the best managers at her school, an excited, cheerful girl who always knows what to say to bring her team out of a slump, matched with above average intelligence and insane training plans that her Coach is absolutely in love with, Akari’s love for the game was one born from her wish to understand her best friend that much more. In everything she does, Akari only hopes for the best for the boy she thinks of as her brother. After being voted as Vice-Captain for his school team, hitting a slump in his skills and nearly losing their team’s placing in the Summer tournament over the span of two weeks, Hikaru walks into a Go salon near his school to unwind, hoping to maybe win a few games like he did whenever he visited the Go club that Akari is also apart of. Unfortunately, he has the displeasure of running into one Ochi Kosuke there and while the other teen is surly, arrogant and infuriating, he’s undoubtedly a much better Go player. With the rest of his summer being amounted to three more soccer games and two one week training camps, one at the very beginning and one at the very end of summer, he finds almost half of his summer break is spent playing Go toe to toe with the arrogant teen.

In his hunger to win, Hikaru comes up with some unorthodox and risky Go plays to use against Ochi, plays that become integral to his team’s development as he finally utilises his analytical skills to their fullest capabilities, gaining the attention of some of the best under-19 clubs.

Meanwhile, Ochi knows that Hikaru is a famous soccer player at his High-School, but witnessing the insane improvements Hikaru makes in his Go skills in the span of one summer has him questioning if this teen really is just a soccer-idiot like the rumours say he is. After all, an idiot wouldn’t be able to lose against a Professional Go player at an even game with only a two moku difference. As he watches Hikaru improve, he has a faint, eerie desire for his (somewhat) friend to really take up his favoured game. Playing against Akira Touya has been what Ochi’s dreamed of for the past year he’s been a pro, but he can’t help but yearn for a true, all or nothing game against the jock who just won’t leave him alone. 

in other words, a sports anime fanfiction with a lil bit of go because soccer player Hikaru is an absolutely amazing trope lmao. 

lil fax about this au:

a) Ochi has a crush on Akari that only develops after he plays her in a game of Go, while she isn’t anywhere near as talented as her friend, she has three years more experience in the game and an uncanny intuition that makes her an amusing opponent. added to that she’s very pretty and since Ochi’s default emotion is crush them until it stops mattering, he manages to annoy the manager in a way only Hikaru has managed before. will this be a ship? no clue my dudes.

b) Sai is quietly alive, and is the neighbour to Hikaru’s grandfather, a sickly man who can rarely leave his house because of his frail constitution. After Hikaru coerces his grandfather into teaching him about Go following a week of straight losses against Ochi, Sai offers to teach the younger kid. Unfortunately Sai is no teacher and while he very much enjoys the game against the young teen, his only advice comes in the form of mercilessly ripping all of Hikaru’s strategies apart until Hikaru can pinpoint where exactly he first messed up and how he can recover from it.

c) Hikaru and Ochi become (begrudging) friends, only because Hikaru stubbornly refuses to stop bothering the other teen, if only until he can beat Ochi by a 8 moku difference, the same difference that Ochi had during their first game against each other. Ochi grouches and glares and puts his nose up, but is internally embarrassed at this new, affectionate and loud teen who always manages to say endearing stuff with a casual, relaxed face. (Who the heck says “One day I’ll catch you and force you to look only at me” with a serious face?????)

d) after discussing some plays in front of him and enthusiastically (on Hikaru’s side) teaching him the rules of soccer, Ochi offers valuable insight to the Hazeko soccer team. Akari hates it and hates him with a passion when she sees how good his analysis of the game is. It took her most of elementary and their first year of middle school to show any worthwhile game plays and he offers some barely two weeks into learning their plays? All the while with his nose in the air???? Hate.

e) before Shindou and Fujisaki showed up, Shindou with his swift observation skills and hard borne techniques and Akari with her spartan training methods, Haze High’s soccer club had little to no presence. With the two present and having just barely lost their semi-finals placing in the summer tournament, Hazeko returns to the Winter Kokuritsu determined to prove that their summer performance was no fluke. Now, if only they knew what the heck being stars meant and why Shindou suddenly developed a God Complex... Also who is the brat that Fujisaki is trying to crush and why the heck do they have to prove that with her guidance (re:torture) they’re better than that four-eyed brat? Why are first years so weird?

3) Akari the Pro and Hikaru who’s kinda just there until he very much isn’t 17 year old Fujisaki Akari leaves the Go world in an uproar after the former model enters the Pro exams as an outsider and wins with a spotless record.

Claiming to have started Go at 12, everyone in the Go world becomes curious about the young teen, especially when she manages to lose her Shodan match against Gosei-Ogata by a three moku difference. They all wonder the same thing, how did this model get so good and if she has been playing Go casually for five years, then why is it only now that she’s decided to become a Professional? At the peak of her modelling carer?

Inversely, Akari became a Professional Go player to honour her late mentor Sai, a kind neighbour who taught her and Hikaru to play Go while babysitting them for a week when the two were 12, despite them both thinking it an old man’s game, the competitive kids continued playing the game hoping only to defeat their teacher, who urged them to continue on the pro path after discovering that the two were great students.

The duo entered their middle school Go club and by their second and third year, they managed to win against Kaio, the best middle school Go club in Tokyo.

At 14, Akari loses interest in the game having never won against Sai and losing against Hikaru for the better part of the year, and she can’t help but feel like Hikaru will leave her behind when he considers becoming an Insei. Then, the unthinkable happens, Sai passes away while playing against the duo.

For the next year neither teen speak of Go, hanging out like normal until Akari gets offered a modelling contract that keeps her from school and in extension keeps her away from her childhood friend and Hikaru starts hanging out with delinquents.

Fed up with Hikaru distancing himself and finally realising that he was leaving her behind like she had feared years ago, Akari slowly begins to play Go again, relearning the game as she went to Go salon’s and using her old NetGo account. After nearly a year of being reacquainted with the game, she takes the pro exams with only one thing in mind, to play the coveted Kami no itte that her mentor sought after. If she’s already lost two of her closest people, then she’d learn to love the game that she used to fear, to keep the one thing that still tied them together, their style of Go.

plot points:

a) Sai was an up and coming former professional who was one win away from gaining his first title, Kisei, when a politician accused him of money laundering and fixing his students games. with this scandal, his students abandon him hurt because they assumed he didn’t have faith in their Go abilities and his opponents no longer face him with their all or with respect, thinking him a cheater and a disgrace to the Go community. after a win in the Kisei tournament that he knows was gained because his opponent was distracted by the rumours, Sai ceases to play Go competitively, having given up on his family’s approval and name for the game and lost seemingly everything that made the game worthwhile. He meets Hikaru and Akari almost nine years later, despite his personal misgivings and anxieties, he finds himself entranced with these young, talented children, gaining a lost love for Go.

b) At 29, a random park visit with the kids prompts him to face Touya-Meijin, who had been at the park playing a game against his student. Faced by his old rival who had continued to soar in the Go community years after his departure, Sai plays what he announces to be the most beautiful game he’s ever played. The two battle it out on the board for nearly three hours, when Sai finally beats the Meijin by a half a moku difference. Only three people in the world viewed this match, though the Kifu became sought after and studied long after it happened. The viewers? Ogata Seiji, Fujisaki Akari and Shindou Hikaru. Ogata has no clue what happened to the bright, but fearsome child who accompanied the strange Sai and bulldozed his way into the post match discussion, but he knows that where ever Fujisaki wondered, her friend would no doubt follow, no one that talented and that enthusiastic about Go could ever truly give it up.

c) Akira has no clue who this Fujisaki is, having not payed much attention to the Professional Exams considering his own preoccupation in the Honinbou tournament, but when he sees her kifu he has only one question, who is her mentor and is it the elusive man who managed to convince his father to give up his titles and become an amateur? If so, where is that mentor now? And how can Akira convince them to face him on the Goban?

d) Hikaru just wants people to stop spreading rumours about him and Akari, because the buddying model really doesn’t need all the flack people give them. If it means distancing himself to save her reputation, then he doesn’t care, ‘cause hell if he’s gonna let people be convinced their dating and it’s gross that those rumours even exist. It comes as a shock then, when after a campaign that makes her the face of popularised clothing franchise and a new perfume scent made for her, she decides to quit modelling and forces her way into the Go world, against her agency and her parents wishes. Watching his best friend take the Go world by storm, Hikaru can’t help but be angry at Akari for taking up Go again, all the while aching for the game he used to play and wondering, if maybe, Sai would be okay with him playing their game without him. Is it truly okay to play Go without Sai? And if so, when can he trounce Akari? Because she’s gonna get an ego if only upper-dan’s could beat her, and no way was she allowed to be better than him in the game! He refuses! Now if only he could remember how to get good at reading other people’s hands again, because now he could barely read ten moves into a game before getting lost. Also, why didn’t they play good stones like Akari and Sai? Everyone kept playing shitty stones and he can’t read their moves if they use such sloppy hands, jeez!

e) Waya has no clue who Shindou Hikaru is, or why he’s convinced he can beat the newest prodigy Fujisaki Akari when he plays like a clumsy beginner, but he’s determined to keep playing the fascinating teen, especially when he reveals his NetGo nick to be hikaru, a player who dominated the NetGo server nearly four and a half years ago and who hadn’t been seen since a year after he started playing. While Shindou definitely has some untapped potential, he can’t help but wonder why the teen can’t play with the breathtaking speed and monstrous traps like he used to.

f) Hikaru and Akari made each other’s NetGo accounts bc they’re brats like that, so Hikaru’s name is hikaru because Akari couldn’t think of anything else and it wasn’t taken and Akari’s is Fuji-Brat, because Hikaru is an ass like that, a lot of Go players would watch as the two matched each other stone for stone, surprised by how little these mouthy kids knew about the pro world, despite playing at insei level.

g) Sai just doesn’t mention things about the pro world bc he’s used to not talking about it and so, when Akari and Hikaru enter the professional Go world, they’re clueless about everything. They have no clue what dan is, but they know what a Title is, even if they only know the name of two of the titles and they still sometimes forget about the timer and why do they need oteai matches so often, also aren’t those creepy old men kinda weird, i don’t care if they’re important they’re staring and that’s rude/annoying. The Go world is predictably affronted by the duo’s lack of knowledge and it’s the cause of a few minor problems and scandals.