#because clearly the normal buzzer sound was always there

[witherbythesword]

if the theory of sam reich being replaced by .. evil wizard dalton reich (and i cant believe i am partaking in this discurse) is true..

i've seen some people asking the question about what those childhood tapes mean. Well i am one of the ancient ones that owned vhs tapes and you know you could replace whats stored on those tapes with overwriting it with new material but it would slowly degrade the quality as the magnetic tape the information is stored on isn't necessarly made to be re-recorded on indefinetly which would also explain the degrading quality of the gamechanger episode.

So my theory is that dalton reich wants to erase sam from history and to do this he is slowly erasing any proof that could hint on sam and dalton being two different people. One thing he appearantly needed to do is overwrite these old vhs tapes of sams childhood.

[azzifudd]

i don't wanna see you with anyone but me

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: Azzi gets nervous before games. She always has. No matter how low or high the stakes, whether it’s a regular season game against a team clearly a cut below her own or the state championships, the moment she sets foot on the court, her palms break out into a sweat and her stomach churns with nerves.

Today though, she’s not nervous at all. She’s pissed.

rated: teen

3.0k words

disclaimer: as always, this is fictional

[AO3 Link]

Azzi gets nervous before games. She always has. No matter how low or high the stakes, whether it’s a regular season game against a team clearly a cut below her own or the state championships, the moment she sets foot on the court, her palms break out into a sweat and her stomach churns with nerves.

Today though, she’s not nervous at all. She’s pissed. It’s already been a bad morning. Early morning games are always tough on the team, and they’d gotten to the hotel late last night because of an expected traffic jam, leading to even less sleep.

And now, instead of helping her warm up and hyping her up like she normally is, Paige is at the opposite end of the court giggling with some girl on the other team.

They only have a few weeks left together before Paige has to go home, and instead of being with Azzi, she’s off flirting with someone else.

Azzi takes another shot, grunting when it bounces off the rim. The ref finally blows his whistle, signaling the teams to line up for tip off. Paige starts to walk back toward their side of the court, but not before that girl says goodbye with a hand pressed to Paige’s arm.

Azzi’s petty enough that she pretends she doesn’t see Paige’s offered high five before she runs onto the court.

Azzi plays like a woman possessed. By the time the final buzzer sounds, they’re up 25 points after her efficient 33.

“Okay, killa!” When Paige bounds up to her, bumping into her with her chest and trying to wrap her arms around her, she shrugs her off.

“Why don’t you go comfort your new friend?” Azzi heads to the bench to take a much needed drink of water. Paige trails close behind her.

“What are you talking about?”

“Her.” Azzi flicks her head in the girl’s direction. Azzi has to admit she’s pretty; with dark skin, dark hair, and big brown eyes. She’d probably enjoyed it a little too much when her crossover had landed the girl on her ass, but like she’s said, she’s petty.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know her.” Paige looks dumbfounded.

“You seemed to know her well enough that you spent all of pregame talking to her instead of helping me warm up.” She tries to keep her voice low, knowing that their voices would echo easily in the gym no matter how loud the other games were.

“She said she was a fan! I was just being nice!” Paige crowds into her space, voice defensive.

“Oh, I’m sure you were.”

“Azzi, come on, you’re being crazy.”

Azzi sees red, elbowing Paige in the stomach, pushing her lanky body out of the way easily. “Get away from me.”

“Fine!” Paige throws up her hands. “Come find me when you’re done being crazy.”

The rest of the day drags as they have to take the long drive home together in the car with Azzi’s family. Her parents clearly want nothing to do with their drama, ignoring the two ticking time bombs in the backseat.

When they finally make it back to the house, Azzi storms inside, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

“So… what happened, big dawg?” Tim asks Paige as she helps him unload their bags from the car.

“I didn’t even do anything!” Paige huffs, frustrated.

“I didn’t say you did.” He replies, patient.

Paige hesitates, suddenly feeling awkward about talking about this with her what are they? her girl? her Azzi’s dad, but he stops her before she has to.

“You don’t have to tell me the details, but give her some time to cool down, and then just talk to her. You know how she can be, I mean both of you are stubborn as hell, but when has she ever stayed mad at you for long?

That’s true. It’s one of the things that Paige likes the most about Azzi, that no matter how annoying Paige is being, Azzi still wants her around.

When they’re done unpacking, Paige goes to find Azzi. She stops in the kitchen to grab some reinforcements. When she gets to Azzi’s door, she hesitates. She’s never had to knock before. But before she even needs to, it opens.

She and Azzi stare at each other for a moment before they’re both blurting out, “I’m sorry.”

Then they’re both giggling and Azzi pulls Paige into her room, shutting the door behind her.

“I brought this, in case you were still mad at me.” Paige holds up a cartoon of ice cream and a spoon.

“Only one spoon?”

“In case you were still mad at me,” Paige repeats. Azzi laughs and tugs Paige over to sit on the bed, where they take turns eating bites of the ice cream.

“I’m sorry I called you crazy.” Paige says, wincing as she remembers it. “I shoulda seen how upset you were.”

“And I’m sorry that I overreacted when I saw you talking to someone else.” Azzi twists her fingers together. “I just got so mad when I saw you talking to her. And I know how popular you are, and you deserve every bit of it, but…”

Paige just waits because she knows Azzi needs to talk it out herself, and that she just needs Paige to listen.

“I know it’s selfish, but part of me just wants to keep you to myself. Because as soon as everyone finds out about you, they’re gonna want you.” Azzi glances at Paige then, almost certain she’ll see a cocky grin on her face, but Paige just listens.

Paige gets it. Sometimes someone can just look at Azzi for a second too long and it makes her want to just take Azzi and hide her away. But she can’t, so she just reaches out to hold Azzi’s hand.

There are so many things she wishes she could say to Azzi, things that she can barely stand to consider because they scare the shit out of her.

So she just settles for saying the one thing she knows to be true.

“I’m yours.”

Paige watches Azzi blush, stunned and speechless.

“Can I kiss you now? Lowkey it was so hot how jealous you got.” Paige laughs when Azzi pushes her with a hand to her face.

But then that same hand is gripping at her collar and pulling her on top of Azzi and then there’s no more talking.

//

It’s a Friday night, and Paige is sober.

It’s not the most uncommon occurrence, not anymore. After her ACL, she has learned to be a bit more responsible, a bit more grown up. So when the girls had decided to go out that night, she volunteered to be DD.

And if that gives her a chance to watch over Azzi a little more closely she will take it. The younger girl has been acting off in the past weeks. On the outside, she doubts that anyone else has noticed, but she almost knows Azzi better than she knows herself.

It becomes even clearer that something’s wrong when Azzi returns over and over to the bar, taking way more shots than she usually does.

And now, a few hours into their night, she has disappeared. It’s a small bar, in a small town, so Paige isn’t too worried, but Azzi has never been one to wander off, and especially not on her own.

Paige pokes her head through the door to the back patio which consists of a few picnic tables, lit up with fairy lights. She almost heads back inside when she hears a familiar laugh from the far end of the patio.

When her eyes adjust to the light, she sees Azzi sitting on a table, a tall form looming over her.

“Azzi!” She barks out, strides long as she rushes forward. The figure steps back from her friend, and Paige vaguely recognizes her as one of the members of the girls volleyball team.

“What?!” Azzi fires back, stopping Paige in her tracks.

“What are you doing? Who is this?”

“I’m talking to a friend.” Paige fights the familiar twist in her stomach at the sight of Azzi’s hand on the other girl’s arm. “Is that okay with you? Or are you the only one allowed to flirt with every woman who throws themselves at you?”

Paige feels like she’s been punched in the gut. She sees a hint of regret on Azzi’s face before she turns her head away.

The stranger looks like she would rather be anywhere else, and Paige would be more embarrassed if she wasn’t so focused on Azzi.

“I’ll see you in class, Azzi?” When Azzi gives a jerky nod in response, the girl takes her leave, giving Paige a cold look as she goes.

Azzi’s eyes are glassy, her cheeks obviously flushed even under the dim lights. She takes a heaving breath, face turned away while she clearly fights tears, and Paige hates that she is the reason for her best friend’s pain.

“Az-” Her hands reach up to find their usual place at Azzi’s waist, but she freezes when Azzi flinches away from her. Her fists clench as she drops them at her side.

“Am I not enough?”

“What?” Paige chokes out. The thought is inconceivable. She reaches out again, grasping at where Azzi has wrapped her arms around herself.

Azzi still isn’t looking her in the eye.

“Azzi, come on.” Paige sighs in relief when Azzi allows her touch, hands warm against the skin exposed by her crop top.

Azzi’s eyes brim with tears. “Can we just forget I said anything?”

That’s when Paige knows something really might be wrong. Azzi is always the one pulling her out of her shell when she’s upset, and she wasn’t usually one to hide her own feelings.

“It’s just us. Me and you.” Paige brings one hand up to cup her jaw and brings their gazes together. “Talk to me. We promised that we’d always talk to each other.”

Azzi takes a deep, steadying breath. And then another.

“I know that we agreed when you came here that we’d pull back and keep it more casual.”

You wanted that! Paige wants to say, but she can’t deny that she took advantage of it, loved it at times even. She can’t deny that sometimes it was nice to be able to talk to, flirt with, and kiss girls who didn’t hold the power to crush her with one word.

But none of those girls ever made her feel even half of how Azzi did, like she could conquer the world if only Azzi was at her side, holding her hand.

“And I know that we decided last year that it was best for the team and for everyone if we just.. didn’t complicate things.”

She keeps it unspoken that it was never that simple, and that it had tested their relationship more than ever having each other so close, but being unable to really be together the way they both hoped the other wanted. And then the season had ended with that devastating loss, and neither of them had had the emotional capacity to deal with all of it.

And then her ACL had happened, and just when Paige had thought that she couldn’t be forced any lower, there was Azzi. Azzi, who had just shown up to hold her, and let her yell and cry, and not be okay, for once.

It still sucks, and there are days where she’s so desperate to play that she cries, but she’s not alone in it. She’ll never be alone again, not as long as she has Azzi. And she knows now, sure as anything, that Azzi is all she’ll ever want.

“I thought something had changed between us this summer, and I’ve been waiting for you to be ready, to tell me you were ready.”

Paige feels like this is a conversation she has been waiting to have for a very long time.

“Do you know what my first thought was the first time I saw you? ”

Azzi huffs in frustration. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you shoot a basketball for the first time, and thought, damn, I have to play with her, and then I did, and it was better than I even imagined it would be. Then I got to sit next to you on that plane, and got to really know you, and then I knew that I just wanted you in my life forever. So don’t ever think that you’re not enough. You’re all I’ve wanted since I was sixteen years old.”

Azzi’s eyes shimmer with tears, but the smile on her face is radiant. Paige tugs her even closer by the waist until Azzi hooks her arms around her shoulders.

“I wish I was as good with words as you are,” Azzi says, pressing their foreheads together. “I wish I could tell you what you mean to me.”

But Paige doesn’t need Azzi to say it. She can feel it in the way Azzi’s heart pounds against her chest where they are pressed together. She can see it in the way her lips tremble like they’re about to kiss for the first time.

And she can feel it in the way Azzi presses their lips together, like she never wants to stop, like breathing matters less than kissing her.

//

Paige is unzipping her luggage when her phone rings with a Facetime call from KK. She taps accept and as the screen fills with an image, she realizes it isn’t a normal call.

The angle is askew and the camera is out of focus showing a gym with a few figures in the distant background. Somehow KK must’ve accidentally called her. She hears KK’s voice loud and clear joking around with someone with an Australian accent. She smiles, happy that her little freshman is getting along with everyone at the Dawg Camp. She almost hangs up the call when the camera focuses itself and the figures in the background become clear.

They’re a bit far away, but Paige would recognize that form anywhere. Azzi stands at the opposite court putting up shots, though her feet stay planted on the ground. Her stroke is still smooth as butter though, and she’s so strong that the shots swish through the net even if she can’t get off the ground yet.

Someone’s under the net, someone tall with dirty blonde hair, rebounding for Azzi, and she says something, too quiet for Paige to hear from this far away, but she does hear Azzi’s responding laugh.

The sound, one of Paige’s favorite sounds, one that normally never fails to bring a smile to Paige’s face, instead sends an uncontrollable roll of unease through her gut.

She knows it’s irrational, to still get jealous when someone else makes Azzi smile. She’s never been more secure in their relationship than she is now, but apparently that jealous part of her is still alive as she squints down angrily at her phone, watching fucking Kate Martin?! standing way too close to her girl.

“What the hell?” She mutters, and then the phone is moving and KK’s face fills the screen.

“Oh, what the? P. Boogers! My bad, how long have you been on my phone?”

“Kamorea!”

KK jumps from the unexpected growl in Paige’s voice. “Damn what’s gotten up your butt? Say hi to Georgia.”

“Hi,” Paige says, brusquely. She swipes the FaceTime to the corner of the screen, tapping open Instagram and navigating to Azzi’s profile.

“Jeez, tough crowd.” She hears Georgia say as she taps on Azzi’s following, scoffing when she sees Azzi’s most recent follow.

“Dude, lemme talk to Azzi.”

“Y’all fightin’ or somethin’? She seemed all goofy after she talked to you last night.” KK thinks for a second. “Oh was it because you were cheesin’ at those dancers?”

“What?” Paige sputters. “I was just being polite!”

“Mm, sure.”

“Whatever, just let me talk to her, bro come on.” Paige nods, impatiently.

KK rolls her eyes, but still walks down the court. “Azzi,” she calls out. “Dumbass on the line for you.”

Paige watches Azzi’s face come into focus, first looking confused before a smile blooms on her face, dimple creasing her cheek.

“Babe, hey.”

Paige feels all the uncertainty and jealousy just fade away at the sight of that smile.

“Hey,” she replies, softly.

“Did something happen?” Azzi’s brow creases with worry, and she walks a bit away so they can speak in a more private spot.

“No,” Paige lies, suddenly embarrassed about how much she overreacted. “I just miss you.”

“Paige.” Azzi's smile grows even wider. “You called KK to tell her how much you missed me? You just saw me like two days ago.”

“Well, she pocket dialed me, and I saw you, so-” She cuts herself off. “Yeah.”

“I miss you too, dummy.”

Azzi’s smile is softer now, the sight of it fills Paige’s chest with warmth, so different from the mess of emotions she felt just minutes ago. Azzi has always been that for Paige, her safe place, her peace, her home.

Paige hears the noise in the background pick up and Azzi looks up, past the camera.

“You gotta go?”

“I’ll call you later?”

“You better.” Paige smirks and Azzi rolls her eyes fondly.

“Okay, I gotta go.”

“Wait,” Azzi pauses with a finger over the screen. “Is Martin still there?”

Azzi looks confused, but she still calls out, “Kate!”

Kate appears over Azzi’s shoulder, looking slightly puzzled at being summoned, but with a friendly smile anyways. “Hey, Paige.”

“Hey, how are ya?”

“Good, happy to be here, you know? Just taking it all in. Azzi’s been really nice about helping me actually. Since she’s been here before.” Kate smiles at Azzi, who returns it.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great, huh?” Paige winks and Azzi snorts softly. But then she says, voice serious, “Keep an eye on her for me, would ya? She doesn’t like to ask for help for herself sometimes.”

“You got it, Paige. Good to see you.” Kate jogs off to join the others in the now starting scrimmage.

When Paige looks back to Azzi, she almost blushes at the look in her eye.

“You’re always taking care of me.”

“Well, I kinda love you a little, so.” Paige scratches the bridge of her nose, feeling bashful all of a sudden.

“I kinda love you a little too.”

[lolita-lollipop]

YANDERE PAPA AIZAWA X MEDIUM READER

You clicked the buzzer in the front gate to the large mansion, and it made a loud ringing sound.

“Mr Aizawa? Yes you called me early in the morning yesterday about your… problem. I’m here now to start the assessment of your home” you spoke into the speaker as loud as you could, you were up on your tiptoes trying to reach it, and you hoped the man could hear you. Your hopes were answered when a loud buzz sounded and the gate unlatched, there was something so odd about this, such an old home with new electronics. He didn’t say anything to you, but you could feel him watching you, wether it was from within the house, or from some hidden camera.

When the gates fully opened you made your way inside, starting the long trek on foot to the mansion. Now to the normal person this might look like an appliance or insurance visit, but you weren’t a mainstream worker, you were special. Ever since you were little you’d always seen people that weren’t there, heard songs linger in the air that weren’t playing, and talked to people that no one else could see. Some called you insane, some said you’d inherited hallucinations from your father, but the others knew what you really had. You could see ghosts, hear them, interact with them. You never understood why, but some things just were, and this is one of them.

So instead of enrolling yourself in some mental facility where you would rot away drowning in medicine and apple sauce, you’d made a business off of it, “l/n’s median services” you’d named it.

And while some thought it was bullshit, thought this was a scam, some were too desperate to care. Usually the people who called you were riddled with reminders of their pasts, children that died twenty years ago, wives that had passed of cancer, old women from thousands of years ago, they couldn’t see them like you could, but they knew that these things were there. So they call you.

Like this man, he’d called in yesterday about his own home, clearly he was rich because he’d offered you almost 5 times your price if you could come the next day. Even thought he told you little to no details about this work, Obviously you accepted. But as you walked the long trail down to his large home, you couldn’t help but regret that decision, this didn’t feel like your average appointment where an old mother just wanted to feel sane in her own home, didn’t feel like you should be here. But here you are. By the time you’d made it to the front double doors the doubt festered in your mind, but it was far too late to turn back. So you knocked thrice like he’d told you over the call.

This man was odd, he refused to tell you any details about why he wanted you here, he just told you to come at 3:00 tommorow afternoon and knock three times in his front door and you would be let in. All he gave you were those directions and his name. But as the front doors were pulled open and out popped a middle aged man with black hair and a scruffy beard, yoh couldn’t help but notice how normal he looked.

“You’re y/n l/n?”

“Yes sir, l/n median’s only employee”

“Alright, you may come in”

And he went silent, creaking open the door for you to slide in, just for him to slam it behind you, it made you slightly jump. His eyes traveled all the way down you, assessing you, before he apparently deemed you okay and began walking, you expecte d that he wished you to follow, so you did.

“Ah- sir” you begun speaking, trying to keeps up with him as he swiftly walked down a long corridor. He barely spared you a glance before continuing his walk, clearly this man didn’t get out much, usually rich people that lived in big houses like this were socialites, the Aizawa family was well off enough to be known through town, but never talked about much. He looked sad, his face downturned with frown wrinkles across the corners of his mouth, probably because of what you were here for.

“Call me Aizawa.” He curtly told you, quickening his pace doesn’t he hallway, along the way he grabbed a large key from his pocket, and once you’d come across a large door, he begun unlocking all the large locks in the door.

“Ah yes- Aizawa sir, do you mind if I ask what my purpose is here today? I just kinda need to know what I’m dealing with so I can be prepared” you questioned, slightly nervous, you never really did big jobs in places like this, but creepy places worth millions upon millions. So obviously you were uneasy, but there was also something about this man. You couldn’t quite place your finger on it.

“My daughter. She died quite some time ago, but I think her presence still remains”

“Oh- well- Um. Why do you think so?” Yoh couldn’t place it but there was something that intimidated you about this man, maybe it was his 6’6 stature or the way he looked so angry at the world, but your internal alarms were blaring with red, telling you that this is a man you should be scared of.

“I hear her laughing, sometimes during the night I’ll hear little footsteps by my bed, and her old toys will be thrown about the house even though I don’t move them.” He was very short with his answer, but it was enough information to tell you that he wasn’t some crazy who just wanted to find a real ghost, that this was his real daughter. You could tell by the tone in his voice, it was pained, angry. You spent a little bit looking at his face, the daughter must have died pretty young, considering the use of little footsteps and toys.

“Uhm- how old was she? And- and how did it happen? Was it natural or did… someone else cause it.” You knew not to refer to death directly with these kinds of people, after so long they were still mourning and anything could flick them off, even with calm and collected people like this man- Aizawa, he might break down at the thought.

“She was just older than 2, she’d barely learned how to walk yet. And she had a bad heart, there were some complications at birth that the doctors hadn’t thought to look into, and one day she just… didn’t wake up” you didn’t meet his gaze as he spoke, hearing about children specifically dying made you feel sick, especially when the parent’s the one speaking. You didn’t notice how his gaze lingered for far too long.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, uhm- did she have any nicknames you called her, pet names even? Any specific toys or things she liked? And- do you by chance have a photo? I just need something to connect with so I can communicate with her better” your hands waved about while you spoke, and you talked so fragilely, almost like anything you would say would set this man off.

“Ah yes, when she was a baby her mother always called her daisy, it’s on her gravestone actually- and she used to love the yarn rag dolls I would make for her. As for pictures- I have one from a few days before she passed.” His voice was hushed, almost like he hadn’t spoken about this poor child in a long time. Eventually the two of you slowed to a stop, and he pulled out a few photos, and a woven rag doll with red yarn for hair. You winced at the mention of a gravestone, no parent should have to bury their child.

He placed one of his rough hands against the small of your back to guide you into another hallway, this one was shorter, smaller, there were messily drawn photos hung up from the walls, toys scattered about the floor, and a few small dresses hanging over chandeliers. Before you could ask what this all was he spoke up, squeezing you close to him. Yoh would call him out on touching you, but your sympathy ran too strong at the moment.

“This was her hallway where she mainly stayed, her room’s to the left, and her playroom to the right, at the end of the hallway is my room where she would sometimes sleep, and the room next to that is where she would take her naps… that’s where she died.” He pointed to the rooms as he walked down the hallways with you, holding you tight.

“Okay. This is probably the best spot, I don’t need much to see her, it’s all natural, but- can If you can hold my hand? I know it- it’s stupid but sometimes the noises make me feint or fall and I just- I just need someone to catch me or I’ll get hurt” you pointed o the scar on your forehead where you’d fallen before, a loud shriek had sounded through an old apartment and it had made you fall down a flight of stairs. Usually you would have one of your friends come with you, but you felt like you could trust this man… oddly enough. He smiles for once at your request, warmly offering up his hand.

“Oh yes that’s alright, I’ll be here if you need me to catch you, always.” You chose to ignore the last line, and just intertwined your fingers with his own. Then, holding the photos in your hand, and the rag doll, you began deepening your breathing, just separating yourself from the atmosphere around. You breathed in and breathed out, in, out, in, out, in out. Until your felt a bump on your legs,

“Daisy? Are you here?”

And saw a toddler running past

The small girl paused after running into you, and stared at you for a good long moment, before raising her arms up as if to ask you to lift her, you bent down and held up the doll for her, but before you could touch her she vanished. So you continued walking

“Did you see her? Is she here? Did she say anything? Did she look hurt?” Aizawa blurted our questions one after another, but you brought your finger up to your lips to respectfully silence him. Loud noises scared ghost children away, especially voices.

“Daisy? Can you come out to see me? I have your daddy with me. Don’t you want to see him again?” You attempted to coax the girl out of wherever she was hiding, to no avail. As you walked passed the different rooms a sweet smell got stronger and stronger. Until you started seeing small flashes, pictures really, in your mind. One was of the small girl in her fathers lap as a newborn, her mothers dead body not far away, must’ve died at birth. The next was of the girl crawling, playing with one of the dolls. And the next was the girl, now with longer hair and less chubby cheeks, having her picture taken, the same picture you were holding in her hand.

The last photo was of the girl sitting in a crib, letting out a small whimper, before going completely silent.

“Daisy? Please come out so we can talk, I promise I’m here to make you feel better.”

Then you heard the little putter of her running feet against the hardwood floor, felt the man beside you’s hand squeeze, and then felt her bump into you one more time. Instead of a giggle, or a smile thought, her face held a deep set frown, tears flowed freely down her face, but no noise came out of her mouth, something was wrong. Then she pointed to the room next to aizawas bedroom, and you got a glimpse of the interior. And gasped.

“What? What’s wrong? Is she still here? Did she fall? What did you see?” Aizawa asked more questions, noticing how your face fell, how your eyes were burned out into the threshold of that door. Your breathing turned heavy, and the smell now washed over you and clogged up your nose. What the hell.

Girls. So, so many girls stared back at you from that room. They all looked similar to that baby, but not the same, they had the same h/c colored hair, the same e/c eyes, and the same s/c skin, but each was slightly different. One thing they had in common, was their eyes, they were hollow, like the life had been sucked out of them. It took you a few seconds for you to hear them, but eventually you did. They all muttered the same things.

“Get out now. Run. Leave. You’re the real one. He wants you. He doesn’t want us. You have to leave. You’re the real one. Run. Run. RUN” they screamed at you, you pretended you weren’t seeing anything scary, that you weren’t seeing anything wrong. Your words came out shaky and misplaced, but they let the man think what you were trying to get him to. You didn’t realize it until it was too late, you had e/c eyes, you have h/c hair, and you had s/c skin, but your face wasn’t different from the little girls. It looked so similar,

too similar.

“Daisy, you’re free now, go see your mother, you can leave sweetheart, just leave.” You spoke to the little girl and she nodded with a smile, and in a second, she vanished. All the girls vanished too, the noise stopped, the voices stopped, and the presence, left the house. They were all gone, you’d done your job. But they’d left you.

“Is that it? Was she okay? Are you done now?” He continued with his questions, now his hands were placed firmly against your shoulders, pressing down. His face held a factor of something different, not maliceful, almost love. He knew you’d lied.

“Y-yes. Her soul is gone from this place now- i- you don’t have to pay me anything- I have to go now. Thank you for your time sir. “ you sped through your words like a race, too fearful to sit down with this man and discuss how much he owed. Maybe you falsely judged his character to be a good person, there was something different behind his eyes, maybe you never noticed it, maybe it just appeared, but it was clear this man didn’t just bring you here to get rid of his dead daughter. And you didn’t want to find out what that reason was. So you turned around and made your way back down the hallway and towards the main front room, but before you could even take more than three steps he caught your wrist with his callused hands.

“That’s a cute little act you got there, walk around for a little bit and ask if she’s gone, just to cover up your own secrets” his hand clenched gently at your own, holding you tight enough to keep you from moving, enough to keep the fear pumping high in your veins. Yoh didn’t want to join all of those ghosts in that room, all of them who look something like you. You didn’t understand his words, nor did you want to, at this point you were just focused on getting out of this place.

“Sir- please let go of me- I don’t know what you’re thinking but I don’t have any secrets- o- I can actually see them- you’re daughter is gone-“ he didn’t listen to your pleading as he held onto your wrist tightly, you dug your heels into the ground and threw your body weight forward in attempts to free yourself from his grip. But to no avail, he was far taller than you, a bulky man with broad shoulders and heavy set muscles. You couldn’t fight him if you wanted to. Fuck.

“Sweetheart, I told you to call me Aizawa. And as far as I can see, my daughter is right here, with me” you spun around, confused. You’d seen the girl fade into nothing, fizzle into another realm you considered to be death. She wasn’t here anymore, not that you could see. Was it possible that she was still haunting her father?

“No. No I watched her go, she’s free. Let me go mr Aizawa. Please-“

“My daughter never died.” The phrase was simple, yet it still sent your head spinning, was this man delusional? Or were you? You’d seen those memories so vividly, almost as if they were your own, and those girls, ten or twelve of them, all similar versions of you. If that little girl didn’t die then who was it? No, no that was her ghost. She’s dead. But what if it wasn’t. Does that mean that/ this guy tried to find his daughter? and just grabbed any girl from wherever? But why were they all ghosts now? Wait. He killed them, including that little girl. Looking for his daughter. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.

In your moment of confusion, he took up your ceased struggling as an advantage to bend over and loop his arms under your legs and the small of your back, lifting you up off the wooden flooring into a cradle. Before you could question him he spoke up.

“She did have a heart attack, but an ambulance came and pumped her full of medicine, after she was healed they took her from me. Apparently the government believed I was too violent to be around her. So they took her. Not her. They took you” it was then that you could see where this was going, he was delusional the , sure you grew up in the foster care system, but they’d told you your parents were in jail. Not crazy or violent. Once the idea set in your mind, that’s when the initial panic ceased, and it now turned into a full blown tsunami of fear and anxiety. What would this man do to you.

“N-no- I saw her- I saw them. She’s dead- they’re all dead. I- I have to go. Let. Me. Go” you, surprisingly calmly spoke, the beginnings of tears begun to trickle down your cheeks, and you kicked and scratched at his chest. But it didn’t work, it wouldn’t. He smiles lovingly at you, how hadn’t you noticed these signs before? All the doting looks, the way his voice was laced with love. How had you mistaken all that for coldness?

“Oh no oh no- don’t cry Daisy. There’s no need to be scared! I’ll take very good care of you, you’re my daughter after all, my sweet little baby that I lost. Don’t you worry. I’m here now, daddy’s here” he soothed and wiped your tears off your face, his hands were rough, but gentle, you couldn’t help but flinch away from him at his touch.

“I-I’m not your daughter. Sir I swear. Please- please just let me go” you were begging now, humiliating yes, but you were desperate now, the knowledge of the weight of the situation now laid heavy in your brain. Your voice began to crack, and you could feel your resolve beginning to bend into nothing, anything that was holding your emotions in had broken. And you began sobbing, screaming even, anything to finally get him off of you. He assumed it was just your confusion, this must be overwhelming right? So he tried to soothe you, bouncing up and down slightly and patting your back slowly, not understanding that he was the real reason this was happening to you.

“Don’t worry baby- I have all you need here. My pretty little one, I’m so glad to have you back” he coped, brushing that h/c hair out of your face, if just made you sob even harder.

In the midst of your tantrum, just in the corner of your peripheral vision, you caught a glimpse of a girl. Once again that looked like you, just smaller, younger. You reached out to her with one arm, sobbing the worlds “help” or “please” , his touch felt suffocating now. Your parents were dead, he was just a delusional man doing insane things. You refused to believe that your entire life is a lie.

“You did this to us. He wanted you. But he got us. We got hurt because of you. You did this yoh did this you did this. This is

All

Your

Fault”

———————————————————————

If you couldn’t tell, I just watched a bunch of paranormal horror movies and now feel the need to write paranormal oneshots.

This was a request sent by message, so it doesn’t show up. It was super super fun to write though.

Please. Please. PLEASE tell me if it’s hard to understand!

Have a great day today! Goodnight my lovely readers!

[buckyownsmylife]

Oh, well, imagine - Andy Barber smut

The one where Andy gets tired of living a double life 

Word count: 2K<

Warnings: smut, sugar relationship, infidelity (reader is the other woman), daddy kink, breeding kink, dubcon because Andy does stuff without getting reader’s consent beforehand, unprotected sex.

A/N: this was written for @donutloverxo​‘s #sugary4kchallenge! I took the opportunity to write something in the same universe as my first Andy fic, I write sins not tragedies, but this could be read by itself. Congrats on 4k, sweetheart!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The sound of the door being slammed startled me, almost making me drop the dishes I’d been washing. My eyebrows furrowed, confused and worried about what was going on. Only Andy had the key to the apartment, so I wasn’t curious as to who it was, just what had him behaving that way. In all the time we’d known each other, I’d never once seen him angry.

Still, when he appeared by the kitchen, it was clear that was the case. His chest heaved with the simple task of breathing, and when his eyes fell on me, they seemed darker. I almost felt scared - I probably would, if I didn’t trust him so much.

“Andy?” I asked, but he immediately shook his head.

“Not what you call me, princess.” Automatically, I stood up straighter, body electrified by the meaning behind his words. I knew what he wanted, even if it was clearly that more than desire. He needed this.

“Daddy.” He nodded once, clearly pleased at my acknowledgment. But there was still so much I needed to understand. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Instead of answering, he just kept staring at me long and hard, making me feel small and naked under his attention.

“Come here.”

My legs obeyed instantly, having been trained long enough to do exactly what he said without having to think about it. “Good girl.” The compliment was like some pavlovian buzzer to my poor cunt. I could feel the fabric of my underwear begin to uncomfortably stick to my lower lips, and I shifted from one leg to the other as I waited for further instructions.

“Daddy needs you tonight,” he finally began explaining, a single finger running under my jaw to make sure I’d keep our eyes connected. “Will you let me do whatever I want to you and this body?”

The perspective excited me, and I didn’t know if I was stupid for it, but I found myself nodding anyway. At the end of the day, I trusted Andy with my life. I knew he wouldn’t push me further than I could take it, and if he ever came close to it, I always had my safeword.

“Yes, Daddy.” He rewarded me with a kiss, but it wasn’t a soft one. His tongue invaded my mouth and before I could even realize what I was doing, I had to find a hold on his shirt, standing on my tippy toes just so I wouldn’t completely tip over.

“Are you excited to help daddy?” He asked, fingers already making quick work of my clothes as I trembled with excitement in his hold. He looked feverish, like he couldn’t hold back anymore, his mouth nipping and sucking and biting every inch of skin he could find.

“Yes, Daddy,” I repeated, forever his subservient servant, knowing that aiding him would bring me to pleasures I’d never known before we’d met. I watched as he licked his lips, taking in my naked body before his, the kitchen a mess of my discarded clothes and abandoned dinner, but instead of taking off his clothes, his hands went directly to his belt.

“Lay back on the floor.” It took me a full second to understand what he was saying, but thankfully he didn’t read it as hesitation. Instead, despite his eager state, he watched as I slowly lowered myself to the cold marble, stopping once I was on my knees to make sure of what he really wanted.

“Lay back,” he repeated, nodding towards me, and despite my confusion, I did as he said, gasping once my naked back met the icy stone. My nipples hardened against the air of the silent apartment and under his gaze, and I gasped when he knelt before me, hands reaching out for my thighs as he pulled me even closer.

“So, so beautiful,” he moaned, and I watched stunned as he lowered himself until he was eye-level with my navel, and I felt more than saw as his tongue stuck out and collected the wetness that was already threatening to drip from me. “And mine, all mine.”

The first time he’d said that, there was a conversation to be held right after we both came back from our highs. I needed to make sure that he remembered what this was, and he laughed when I tried to phrase it as sweetly as possible.

“I know this isn’t conventional,” he’d said, “but as long as it lasts, you’re mine. In and out of this apartment, but especially in this bed.” It didn’t take too long to realize that he was right.

I truly was his. My body responded to him in a way it’d never reacted to anyone else before. And I knew that whenever this little affair of ours came to an end, he would still forever own parts of me I’d never even realized I had before we met.

Andy’s P.O.V.

My mind was becoming hazier by the second. I needed to make sure she understood what was going to happen before I completely lost it. But first, I knew I’d hate myself if I didn’t take advantage of the delicious meal laid bare before me.

“Daddy!” She screamed, fingers curling around my strands as I lapped her up, rubbing my bearded jaw on the apex of her thighs. She was everything. I had never wanted anyone the way that I wanted her. And I knew that I never would again.

It was why I couldn’t lose her.

Connecting our eyes, I pushed two fingers inside of her and immediately curled them as I searched for that sweet spot I’d memorized so many months before, knowing I’d struck gold when she cried out for me again.

“Yeah, baby… I know you like that, sweet girl. So sweet for me, aren’t you?” I knew she wouldn’t be able to answer, and I didn’t mind. I could barely speak myself. The need to have her was just too strong, and so I kept licking her pussy and fucking it with my fingers until I felt her clench around my digits, not even waiting for her to calm down as I immediately raised to my knees and worked on releasing my member from its confines.

“Better get ready, princess… I won’t be able to stop until I’m done with you.” The lust in her hazy eyes was unmistakable, but just as I was about to plunge into her, warm hands found their way inside my shirt, holding my chest to stop me. 

“Andy… the condom…” but I wasn’t having it.

“No,” I announced it, the finality in my voice clear as day as I pushed her arms down against the floor and penetrated her slowly, making sure to watch her jaw going slack as it always did at my first thrust.

When I saw that the initial shock had started to subdue and she was about to argue, I took her lips with mine, devouring her mouth the way I’d done with her pussy just seconds before. “I’m fucking you just like this, and you’re gonna take it.”

She wiggled underneath me, but it seemed more like she was going through the motions of showing that she didn’t want that than actually trying to make me stop.

It didn’t stop me. She would never be able to stop me. Not when I was in this mindset, not when I needed her so much. “I’m tired of wanting you,” I admitted. “I’m tired of wanting you, having you and then going back to wanting you again. I will never have my fill of you, I know that now. I need you.”

Her pussy clenched around me sporadically, her moans escaping her lips as she failed to speak when my hips grew quicker, my thrusts more forceful. “I need you more than sexually. I’m desperate for you, baby.”

And finally, she stopped squirming, her eyes suddenly widening in realization as my voice betrayed all of the emotions I was feeling. “I want to come home to you, Y/N. Only you.”

My confession earned her surrender. I felt her muscles relax underneath me, a sign of her acceptance of my new quest for ownership of her body, and so I could finally release her hands to run mine all over her skin.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” I whispered once the tempo became softer, but no less passionate. “I haven’t fucked her since we met.” I could see the shock in her expression, and I knew what she would argue.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” I shook my head at her silliness, stroking her cheek after I kissed her one more time. I could see my future in her eyes, even if she didn’t allow herself to see hers in mine.

“I want to get you pregnant, Y/N.” And there it was. The truth and my heart, stripped of all pretense, exposed for her to see. And if I feared the rejection, the way her eyes softened before she pulled me to another kiss sealed our fate.

“I love you so fucking much.” And so we made passionate, desperate sex on the kitchen floor. I fucked her so hard, it didn’t take much to have her drooling for me. I drowned all of my worries and sorrows in her sweet pussy, making sure to worship every single inch of her body with my lips and tongue.

“I’m gonna keep you forever, princess,” I promised, heart aching just at the thought of ever losing her. “She won’t ever take you from me. Ever.” At the reminder of the reality of our situation, the fact that she was “the other one”, her body writhed underneath me, her struggle to fight back once again rising, but I wasn’t having any of it.

“Ever, baby,” I promised against her lips, silencing her cries with a deep, sloppy kiss that only ended when I needed to gather some air. “I can’t even think of having to live without you.” 

The rhythm of our hips finding one another kept up, the sounds growing exponentially wetter with each second, with each drop of her arousal that collected on her lower lips, lubricating my member and aiding my goal to fill her up until it lathered the floor beneath us.

“You won my heart,” I confessed, making sure that she’d see the honesty deep in my eyes. “You left me no choice but to fall for you. Now I won’t live without you.” A desperate cry tore from deep within her, rekindling the passion with which I fucked her. Normally I was so sweet to her, so patient. But I knew she liked this as well. She liked to be fucked like a whore, even if she was as far removed from one as possible.

“Call my name, sweet girl.” It was a plea, a desperate need to blur the lines between what our relationship was and what I wanted it to become until they disappeared altogether. “Say you are mine. Say it.”

She was drooling now, and I knew how hard it was for her to find the words I needed her to say as she succumbed to bliss right there, on the kitchen floor, with me. Still, her scream penetrated my hazy mind, adding to the overwhelming tightness that squeezed me, begging for my cum, “I’m yours! I’m yours, Andy.”

The aftermath found us breathless, with flushed chest and flushed cheeks. I don’t think I’d ever seen anything quite as beautiful as the nervous but hopeful look with which she gazed at me. I knew what she needed to hear, and with a kiss on her forehead, I reassured her, “Let’s go to bed, princess. You won’t be sleeping alone tonight.”

And as we cuddled the night away, the unspoken became clear and clear. Not tonight, nor ever again.

[typical-simplelove]

Can you write something based of on chucky hitting the boards yesterday? He was holding his shoulder and he was off the ice for a while. Maybe like y/n caring for him when he comes home she at his apartment

A/n: So, this is from last week. I didn't watch the game, so I'm not quite sure what happened, but I hope this is what you were hoping for!

You held your breath. Each time Matthew’s skate touched the ice, you held your breath and didn’t let it go until he sat back on the bench. Each hit, you jumped. Each time a player got close to him, you clutched the throw pillow on your couch. You knew that Matthew’s job as a hockey player was dangerous; however, that didn’t mean you enjoyed every hit or rough play you watched.

You saw him slam into the boards. You watched it, and your heart broke just like every time you’ve watched him get hit. You thought it would be a normal hit, and he’d just get right back up. However, when you watched him struggle to get up and clutch his arm, your heart broke into a million pieces. You watched him skate slowly to the bench, and the camera panned down to follow him into the dressing room. This wasn’t good.

When Matthew didn’t return right away, you got up from your seat and began pacing around your shared apartment. When the end of the period buzzer sounded and no news on Matthew, you began to grow nervous. Your phone was lighting up with notifications; it’s probably the other WAGs trying to reassure you. You ignore them as you try to calm down. What if this was a season-ending injury? Matthew would be devastated.

You sat back down on your couch as the third period started. When you saw Matthew on the ice, your heart rate began to return to normal. Now, you were just confused. Was Matthew injured? Was he playing through an injury? Was whatever happened just a close call, was Matthew ignoring his pain to continue playing?

The game ended in the Flames’ favor, but you were still nervous about Matthew. He never went into the locker room if he could help it, so you were worried about Matthew. You texted him immediately after watching the team hug Marky and head into the locker room. He even hugged Marky weirdly. Something was seriously wrong. Matthew didn’t respond to your text, so you assumed that he was driving home.

You knew that despite the win, Matthew was going to be in pain. You could see it in his face with every small wince in his eyes as the camera panned to him. Most people wouldn’t notice, but you did. You noticed all the small winces and pains in Matthew’s eyes. He was playing through pain when he shouldn’t. You wanted to scold him about it, but you knew that more than anything, he needs you to be there to support him. He didn’t need or want you to tell him what he was doing was bad for his health because he knew that. However, the way hockey culture works and is, Matthew has to play through these injuries.

In the thirty minutes it took for Matthew to come home, you threw a towel and a pair of sweats into the dryer to warm up for Matthew. You pulled out the heating pad and make sure the ice packs are easily accessible. You heated up some water in the kettle to make tea for Matthew and grabbed the pain relievers, and you prepared yourself to help him in any way you could. When you heard the key turn in the lock, you were immediately off the couch and at the door to greet Matthew. He opens the door, and your heart breaks at what you see. Matthew puts his bag on the ground and goes directly to you. He places himself into your embrace and takes deep shallow breaths into your neck as you comfort him. You stroke your arm on his back careful not to put too much pressure on his shoulder.

“Great win, Matthew,” you whisper. Matthew just looks at you, and for the first time that night, you see Matthew. You really see Matthew. You could see the pain in his eyes and the dark shadows covering his eyes. “What hurts, Matthew?”

“My shoulder,” he mumbles.

“What happened when you went into the locker room?” you ask quietly.

“I dislocated my shoulder, so they popped it back in place,” Matthew answers and gives you a brief look. “You aren’t going to scold me for playing through an injury?”

You giggle quietly. “I’ll let your mother do that.”

Matthew groans. “Don’t remind me.”

“Here, let’s get ready and make you more comfortable,” you tell Matthew. You help Matthew carefully shrug off his jacket and lead him into the washroom. “Do you want a bath or a shower?”

“I just want to sleep,” Matthew mumbles. “I’ll shower if you help me?”

You nod and begin to help Matthew undress. You slowly unbutton his shirt and toss it to the side. You help Matthew undo his belt and remove his pants; you then turn to the tub and turn the water on. When you deem it warm enough for him, you usher him in. “I put a towel and a pair of sweats in the dryer. Let me grab them for you, and then I’ll join you, okay?”

Matthew nods and goes into the shower. Your heart breaks at the sight before. Your usual happy boyfriend was sad and hurt. You walked to the dryer and grabbed the towel and sweatpants. Immediately after walking into the washroom, you undressed and joined Matthew in the shower.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask softly.

“Wash my hair?” Matthew asks. Despite his curls not quite grown back, Matthew still loved and longed for you to wash his hair. You nod and grab the shampoo from the shower caddy. You place some in your hand and begin to run your hands through his hair. You run your hands through his scalp knowing it would calm him down.

“Matthew?” you say softly. He looks at you with sad, tired eyes. “Please don’t shut me out, Matthew. Please. I need you to talk to me and tell me what’s going on. That’s all I ask.”

He nods, and you remove your hands from his hair. “No, continue.”

“I have to wash out the shampoo before I put in the conditioner.”

“Okay. I’m not going to shut you out, Yn, because you’re the only constant in my life,” Matthew tells you softly. You continue to rub the conditioner into Matthew’s hair and wash it out. You step out of the shower and dry yourself off quickly. You grab Matthew’s warm towel and hand it to him. You help him dry off and hand him a pair of boxers. You hold up a pair of sweats in question if he wants to wear them. Matthew flashes his signature grin and shakes his head. “Just because I’m hurt, it doesn’t mean I’m going to wear pants to bed.”

“Just wanted to make sure,” you tell him. Progress, right? He has a smile on his face, the first one all evening. You walk into your bedroom, and Matthew immediately crawls into his side of the bed. “I made some hot water; do you want tea or anything? Pain meds? Heating pad?”

“No, no, I just want you,” Matthew says with a pout.

You smile and giggle. Matthew seems to be acting a little bit more normal, now. “Let me just grab some water, pain meds, and a heating pad just in case you wake up and realize you need something, okay?”

“Just don’t be gone too long,” Matthew whines as you step out for a few seconds. When you return, Matthew has a pout on his. “You were gone for a really long time.”

“Now you know how I feel when you go on roadtrips. What do you want?”

“They told me to sleep on my back, so I can’t hold you on your side like we normally do.”

“Why don’t you get comfortable, and I’ll maneuver myself around you, okay?”

Matthew nods and gets comfortable in the blankets and pillows on your bed. “Okay, I’m ready.”

You nod and climb into bed. You lay on your side and intertwine your legs with Matthew’s; you wrap your arms around his middle and rest your head on his chest. Matthew wraps an arm around your shoulders and traces small patterns with his hand. “Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?”

Matthew sighs in content. “This is good.”

You smile. “Good.”

“Thank you for this,” Matthew says after a while. You assumed he was asleep, but clearly not.

“For what?”

“Taking care of me.”

“I’ll always take care of you, and I know you’ll do the same for me, Matthew. There’s no need to thank me,” you tell him and places a soft kiss on his chest. Matthew rubs your shoulder softly.

“Still, thank you.”

“Of course. I love you, Matty.”

“I love you, too, Yn.”

Matthew didn’t know what was in store for him when he went in for a check-up the next morning, but he knows that with you by his side, he’d get through it.

Taglist: @goalision @coffee-ontherocks @glassdanse @barzal-burakovsky @petey-patty @beauvibaby @boqvistsbabe @rmaye @heatherawoowoo @heaveniish @stars-canucks @tkapuckit @mellany1997 @nhlboyshavemyhart88 @heybarzy @2manytabsopen @besthockeyfics @plds2000 (Join my taglist here!)

[fullmetalscullyy]

day 19 - safety

24 days - 24 oneshots | a collection of oneshots to celebrate royai

rated: g | words: 1771

read on ao3

The buzzer for Roy’s apartment sounded once, twice, three times before he reached the door.

“I’m coming!” he called out, despite the fact his visitor couldn’t hear him. It still didn’t stop him from venting his frustration though. “Hello,” he answered while trying to keep his irritation out his voice.

“Roy?”

He blinked at the buzzer. “Riza?” He didn’t expect to hear her voice. Instantly all his annoyance towards his insistent visitor drained away. “Hey! Come on in, I’ll let you up.”

This was a nice surprise. He hadn’t seen his old friend in a while, what with them both being so busy with work and other commitments, as well as the time of year. The end of the year had them both tied up with work social events and plans with friends. They did both share some mutual friends, but their paths hadn’t crossed recently unfortunately. While Roy was free to meet up for coffee with their friends, Riza had to work or already had other plans, and vice versa. Getting to see her again was a pleasant and welcome surprise.

It wasn’t a strange occurrence for her to show up on his doorstep, but it was pushing nine o’clock at night and normally she always text to ask if he was in and to let him know she’d be stopping by.

“Hi,” he smiled brightly at her. Seeing her in person brought a big smile to his face, but it was quickly halted when he spotted her expression. She looked… out of sorts. Like something was wrong. “Come in,” he ushered hurriedly. A concerned frown appeared on Roy’s face as he closed the door and offered to take her jacket. It was soaking wet from the rain pouring down outside.

She looked soaked as well. The jacket didn’t have a hood, so her hair was sodden. It hung limp around her face. Her fringe was plastered against her skin. Luckily her clothes didn’t appear to be too wet, but she was shivering.

“You’re soaking.”

Riza nodded and shrugged. “I planned to walk home tonight. I went out for dinner with someone from work. I didn’t expect it to rain.”

“Why didn’t you drive?”

“My car is off the road until it gets serviced next week.”

“You should have said,” Roy offered. “I would have driven you there and picked you up afterwards.”

Her smile was grateful, but Roy was aware she didn’t ask because she wouldn’t have wanted to bother him with such a request. She’d never want to feel like a burden, which of course, she never could be. Never to him, or any of their friends. Roy also knew it came harder to Riza, relying on friends.

“Thanks, but it was fine.”

“Clearly,” Roy replied with a pointed look and an amused look, making her huff and roll her eyes. “I’ll get you a towel.”

When he returned, she took the warm towel gratefully and started drying off her hair. She sighed as the fabric warmed the skin of her face.

Roy gestured towards the couch, telling Riza to make herself at home.

“I’m sorry to intrude. It was the closest place I could think of to get off the street.”

“No, of course.” Roy shifted forward in his chair to focus his whole attention on her. “My door is always open to you. Even more so in this situation. You can always call me and I’ll help. You should of tonight.”

She shook her head. “I was only down the street. I just needed somewhere to duck into for a while.”

“Why?”

Her eyes flicked back up to his. “I’m not sure… But I felt… weird walking home.”

“Weird?” Roy’s brow furrowed. “How so?”

Riza shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Something just felt off. It was like I was being watched.” Riza shuddered and Roy felt anger surge through him. “It was weird.”

“You can stay here.”

Her head quirked to the side. “Pardon?”

“You can stay here,” Roy repeated, slower this time after blurting it out almost immediately like a command initially. “I don’t like the idea of you walking home by yourself and sorry,” he smiled apologetically, “I’ve had a few beers so I can’t drive you.”

“I can call a taxi –”

“I don’t mind, Riza,” he replied softly. “But of course, only if you’re comfortable to stay.”

She paused, staring at him for a brief moment. “I would love to, Roy.”

His grin was probably too enthusiastic, but Roy didn’t care. “Great. Do you need a change of clothes or anything?”

Riza shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll grab you a blanket.”

Perhaps he was being too eager to help his friend, but he wanted her to feel safe and comfortable. Especially after the strangeness she’d experienced while walking home. His hands clenched into fists at the thought of what someone may have been doing, or planning to do, to bring out such a reaction from Riza, but he forced them to relax. She was safe. She was here with him. Riza had sought him out because he was closest, but he was pleased to know she felt at ease now, here with him.

“You don’t need to go through any trouble for me,” Riza started to protest as Roy held out a warm blanket to her.

“Honestly, Riza, it’s my pleasure,” he grinned. “I don’t mind at all. You’re worth it,” he added with a shrug.

He turned and left to grab them both a glass of water in the hopes she wouldn’t see how his face was threatening to turn bright red. It had slipped out, but he had meant every word. It was toeing that line between them they’d both drawn. One he wouldn’t mind one bit stepping over but wouldn’t push things. He wouldn’t push his luck.

“Thanks,” Riza smiled warmly as she took the glass of water from his proffered hand.

Her fingertips caressed his as they brushed against one another, and Roy had to supress a shiver.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” He asked his questions as he sat down next to her, rearranging the pillows behind his back. He needed a distraction to stop himself from dwelling on how nice his hand felt after that brief touch from Riza. The patch of skin appeared to tingle, and he resisted the urge to shake out his hand. Not that he wanted to rid himself of it but losing control and slipping in front of the woman he loved would probably scare her off. Not to mention he couldn’t handle it if she rejected him. With any other person he’d pick himself up with grace and go on but… Riza was something else to him entirely. The most important person in his life, despite her not even knowing it.

“I’m all right.” Her speech was assured but there was a slight hint of trepidation in her inflection as she finished. “I don’t know what it was just…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It was strange.” She shuddered.

“I’m glad you came here.”

There was a brief pause before she spoke. When Riza next met his eyes, a small smile appeared. “I am too, Roy.”

He exhaled and nodded, taking a sip of water.

“Thank you for welcoming me in. You didn’t have to at this hour.”

“I always would, Riza,” he answered truthfully. “I would always welcome you in.”

Pink tinged her cheeks. “That’s good to know,” she answered softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She cast her eyes downwards to her water, away from him, and Roy felt his mind jerk himself out of the spell she’d cast upon him with one look alone.

Not that he’d ever complain about that, of course.

Things were edging towards dangerous territory for him, but when Riza was looking at him like that – with innocent and earnest eyes – he couldn’t stop himself. With her drenched appearance and towel dried hair she was still the most beautiful woman in the world to him.

She was his world.

“Riza –”

“I –” she started at the same time, both pausing before letting out a quiet laugh.

“You go first,” Roy offered. He was more than happy to let her speak because he was ready to reveal everything to her.

“I just wanted you to know I always feel comfortable with you, Roy. I always feel safe, which was why when I realised where I was walking tonight I didn’t even think about stepping inside your apartment. I was so glad you were in,” she exhaled in a rush, letting out a breathy laugh of relief. That pink colour still remained on her cheeks as she voiced her innermost thoughts to him.

He was at a loss of what to say.

“Thank you for always being there for me, Roy,” she finished softly.

Roy was stunned further when her head tipped to the side and gently came to rest upon his shoulder. Silence settled over them both comfortably, but he still felt the need to reply to her, to say his own piece.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that Riza,” he murmured quietly, speaking from his heart.

She sighed quietly against him.

“I will always be there for you, no matter what. I’m always a call away.”

Taking a risk, but also reading the atmosphere of the room, Roy lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. In a movement that felt as natural as breathing he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. For a split second Riza stiffened, but it wasn’t because she was uncomfortable with his affections, it was because she was surprised. Immediately she curled further into Roy’s side, and he shifted closer, bringing her tighter against him. They both remained there in the quiet, content to hold and be held by the other.

Riza felt safe once more, sitting there wrapped in his embrace.

Roy’s heart was thudding inside his chest, suddenly feeling rather full and, despite its pounding, he felt completely at ease. Serene.

He embodied safety for Riza. The realisation and admission from her made him giddy. He could barely contain his happy grin and was pleased she couldn’t see it, lest he probably be teased for it. Not that he cared, in the end. Roy thought the notion was fitting because Roy often thought being with Riza felt like he’d found his home.

Sitting next to her, seeing her wry smiles, her bright, gorgeous eyes, and laughing at her dry wit, Roy had never felt more peace.

feel free to leave a comment and kudos on ao3 :)

likes and reblogs are much appreciated <3

[mendesblurb]

Liquid courage

Shawn Mendes x female reader

Warning: SMUT, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors

Note: A big shoutout to my new friend @monikamendes ~(˘▾˘~)

The sun is setting by the time you ring the buzzer to Shawn’s apartment building. There’s no response. You’re about to turn back when the door clicks to let you in.

As Shawn open the door he smiles in relief that the two of you could finally enjoy some much needed alone time away from the paparazzi, worldwide tour obligations and your hectic work schedule.

“There she is!!! my busy ass best friend.”

“To be fair you’re always busy too Mendes and you know how crazy my boss is.”

“So how’s life as a celebrity?” You asked and Shawn just laughs bitterly at the question as you follow him to the living room.

“You mean how has living under a microscope been? Definitely not what people describe as fun , I’m so ready to skip to the part of my life where I already have a wife to go though it with me.” He replied while pouring two glasses of scotch.

“That looks expensive, you sure you want to share?”

“It sounds like you need one. I mean you clearly have no work-life balance.” He said and began to hold out the glass.

“Gimme that.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Cheers to always being exhausted.” You said while lifting your glass up for toast and he clicks his glass with yours.

“So the boyfriend is an ex now, because he cheated?” Shawn asked

“That is right, I’m 22 years old and I’m single....just like you bachelor boy.” You sighed

“We’ll find someone eventually.” Shawn replied.

“So does that mean you have consider dating again?” You asked

“Nah, I mean I do like someone but she’s way out of league.”

“Shawn Peter Raul Mendes you are an international pop star, nobody is out of your league.”

“Y/N I’m telling you I want this girl to see me as a normal guy not a celebrity.”

“So who are you referring to, I need a name Mendes.”

“I won’t tell you.”

“Why? What made her so special that you have to hide her identity?”

“Because I’m scared okay?” Shawn said while avoiding eye contact and began walking to the kitchen.

“What scared? why you suddenly decide to keep secrets from me?”

“I told you I’m scared and I don’t just like her, I’m in love with her and I hope she might be the one.”

“Love? That’s a big word, how come I just found out about this?”

Silence emerged the kitchen and you could see Shawn now was pacing back and forth. “Shawn?” You asked again and he finally took a deep breath before saying, “Ummm it’s you okay? I could never say anything because our friendship means so much to me. Hell I even tried dating other women but I can’t seem to deny all the feelings I have for you.” He finally confessed.

“WOW SHAWN AFTER 17 years of friendship why NOW??” You asked in a high tone while stabbing a finger in his chest and Shawn quickly grabs your hand, pulling it away from his chest.

“WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO? You were in a relationship Y/N, I was scared and I couldn’t bare the thought of losing you... I just want you to be happy even if it means that you and I could only be friends.”

“Shawn I’m in love with you too, I mean He didn’t cheat on me OKAY?... I broke up.....with him because I couldn’t marry him.....”

“You did what?” He asked and both of you just stare at each other as the confession dawns on the both of you.

“He proposed and I just couldn’t OKAY? Because... the truth is he can never be you Shawn.”

The two of you were too cooped with the yelling that you didn’t realise that his hands are on your wrists and his body was pushing you against the kitchen island.

The next minute was a blur as your lips meet, passionately and urgently. Though you have no idea who moved first. He then lets go of your wrists and his body was still keeping you in place as as he wraps his arms around you.

“I want you... you have no idea how much I’ve wanted you... “ Shawn said

“I’m right here. Nothing’s stopping us anymore.”

He then slides his hands down to your thighs and lifts you while you part your legs, welcoming him closer as he renews his kisses.

As he carries you to the bedroom, you tug his shirt up and over his head, running your hands over his lean muscles while he seals your lips with a kiss and began tugging your dress up over your head.

“What are you planning to do with me, now that those clothes are out of the way?” You asked

“I’m going to make love to the woman I have been in love with for all my life.” He said while lowering his head to trail kisses up your neck, his left hand was teasing your breast while his the other was slipping inside your underwear.

“Ohh... don’t stop.” You said while enjoying the pleasure.

As his hands continue to tease you , eventually you decide to grab him by the hair so he would look up and you began kissing him again while unbuttoning his pants and pushing them to the floor with his boxers.

He then twines his fingers in yours as he kisses every inch of you, teasing out your pleasure and bringing you closer and closer. Until finally the two of you connect.

“Oh God... Shawn.” You screamed as both of you move together, hearts and breath in unison. You grip his hand more tightly as his pace quickens.

Until finally both of you cry out simultaneously in crashing relief and ecstasy.

—————————-NEXT MORNING—

When the morning lights wakes you, you’re still wrapped in Shawn’s arms and for the first time in a long time, you felt like this is where you belong.

Meanwhile Shawn was already awake, gazing at the ceiling. “What’s wrong? Do you regret it?” You asked and he immediately turn his face towards you.

“Marry me.” He blurred out

“What?”

“Marry me Y/N” he said while grabbing your hand

“I heard you Shawn.”

“Y/N, I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember and I would love nothing more than to wake up every morning with you... I mean this is probably not how I plan on proposing... I’m literally butt naked right now and I have no ring but besides all that, I have never been more sure about anything else in my life Y/N and I just can’t wait to actually start living my life with you... so what do say?”

“Okay, Shawn Peter Raul Mendes I will marry you.” You said gigging and quickly Shawn kisses you.

Thank you for reading guys... feel free to like, reblog, follow my account, leave a comment and my chat is always open for random chats or requests... appreciate every single one of you... ❤️

Taglist: @holland-styles @itsalwaysbeen305 @lonelyreputation @badreputationlove @bell0707 @s-mendes-forever @smendes-forever @rainyseb @username2002 @bvttercupbby @shawn-youth @camilalewiss @shawnsmoose @monikamendes @princecharmingmendes

[duskholland]

As You Are | Mob!Tom Holland

summary ↠ who could’ve known showing up to work late one night would put you in touch with a mysterious stranger, capable of turning your life upside down? 

word count ↠ 6.8k

warnings ↠ mature themes, drinking, cursing, gambling + mentions of violence 

a/n ↠ I don’t know how this ended up being so long honestly. I had a blast writing it and I really hope that people read it lol. anyway! this is part of my mob!Tom series -- a collection of oneshots set within the same universe. you don’t need to read the other parts for this to make sense. 

mob!Tom masterlist | general masterlist

You’re late. Fuck, you’re running so late.

Your tight, shiny stilettos rub the corners of your toes uncomfortably as you hurry off the bus, ignoring the stares of the passengers. You push your handbag further up your arm and start to run precariously down the cobbled London streets, your heart pounding harshly in your chest. As you pass the entrances to some of the most exclusive clubs in Soho, you find yourself blending into the crowd. All around you are London’s elite, dressed in expensive coats, rich cologne, and enough glinting diamonds to burn your eyes, and they don’t spare you a second look as you reach the end of the street, taking your tall heels and short skirt as standard.

Relief replaces your anxiety as you pull off at the corner and slip around the back of the largest club of them all: The Lotus Club. You whip out your ID and flash it at the looming security guard on the door, and a moment later you’re in.

Immediately you’re met with backstage: an eclectic mix of cheap hairspray, curling irons, and half-naked girls. You move past a group of feathered dancers and find your locker quickly, ditching your bag and clocking in as you curse yourself for falling asleep earlier in the night. You’ve been working here for three years and you never used to be late, but these days, it’s as if you’ve been pushing it closer and closer to the wire each time you stumble in for your shift.

“You’re late,” comes a loud, stern voice. You freeze, your fingers half-way through pulling off the lid of a deep velvety red lipstick, and you glance at the mirror on your locker door to see your boss standing behind you, arms crossed. Loretta’s a ripped, forty-year-old woman with so many tattoos you think she must be immune to pain. Her eyes are stormy and grey as you hesitantly turn to face her, wincing a smile. “I’ve checked the data for the last month. You’ve been late 12 times, Y/N.” Her face pulls into a disappointed frown. “I’ve always liked you and you’ve never let me down before, but I need staff that I can rely on.”

Instantly you feel cold dread pool in your stomach. “Loretta, look, I’m really sorry, but it’s been a hectic month. I- I’ll try harder, okay? I’m sorry.” And you don’t want to grovel, but this job is all you have. Waiting the tables in this exclusive Soho Club is the only way you can afford to keep your flat, and without that, you have nothing. “Please don’t fire me.”

She holds your gaze for a long, hard minute. Your body feels tight with angst, your fingers shaking around the lipstick. “I’ll give you one more chance,” she says finally. “You’ll need to wait the private booths tonight, though.” When you open your mouth to complain, she laughs lowly. “Oi, none of that. I know you hate it, but if you’re late in, you don’t get a say in where I assign you. Got it?”

With a bite of your lower lip, you nod your head dejectedly. “Alright. Thanks Loretta. I won’t let you down.”

“You better not.” And then she turns and walks away, no doubt on her way to harass some of the other workers, and you turn around to finish your makeup.

The Lotus Club is a boujee blend of bar, nightclub and casino, equipped with a whole secluded wing through the back for private dances. Like the rest of the street, it attracts the highest of the high - rich, snobby businesspeople and socialites who enjoy getting off by flaunting their power and riches. You’re yet to meet anyone who isn’t a complete and utter snob.

The private booths perfectly encapsulate the worst parts of the club: they’re secluded and shady, which means they’re a hub for illegal and underhand exchanges, and they cost a leg and a half to rent out. If you think the customers you’d find in the main foyer of the club were spoilt, the inhabitants in the booths can only be described as the richest assholes London can muster. 

You stare at yourself in your locker’s mirror, red lips sagging into an irritated pout. Your frown remains as you fluff up your hair for a final time and shut your locker abruptly. Your black skirt clings to your legs as you walk out into the front of house, the air clearing the moment you’re in the public sphere of the club.

It’s a very exclusive and elitist place, and the decor of the club indicates that exactly: large, glistening chandeliers dangle in every room, a rich red carpet curves across the halls, and there’s the controlled sound of restrained music drifting through large speakers. Each section of the club has a different vibe to it, and as you walk through the casino and into the section with the private booths, the tone shifts. The booths themselves are tucked behind a large curtain, and as you walk through, the lights grow dimmer and the sweet, husky scent of marijuana fills the air.

You find the supervising manager first - a small, unassuming man called Rob. He discreetly points at a circular table in the corner of the section. “That table over there,” he says. You squint your eyes and stare, making out the outline of a few young men. Curiosity replaces your irritation as you realise they look about as old as you. “You take them, yeah?”

You give him a nod. “Who are they?”

Rob shrugs. “No idea. Think it’s their first time.” He raises an eyebrow suggestively. “Make a good impression.”

You roll your eyes as you move away from him, flexing out your fingers as you walk towards the table. This is the VIP section, which means each booth gets a dedicated waitress - aka, you. You just hope the guys you’ll be serving are decent, because if they aren’t, it’ll be a long, long night.

You draw their attention easily, one of the side effects of being one of the few women in the room. Their gazes fall on you before you’re even at the table, and you suck in a quick, steadying breath as you manage a smile. “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Y/N and I’ll be your server tonight. You ever been here before?”

Your eyes drift around the circular table as you wait on a response, taking in the men now you’re near enough to make them out. There are four of them: all looking young, but the number of tailored suits and watches attached to them screams wealth in a way you can’t ignore. To the left, two guys, both brunette and very similar - twins? To the right, a blond with dizzying blue eyes. And in the centre, a man, clearly the leader, with his arms thrown over the back of the booth. He’s in a crisp white shirt, a suit jacket lying crumpled on the seat beside him, and his golden brown eyes seem to linger on you for a moment too long as you wait on a response. The way he looks at you brings a warmth to your cheeks, the smile fixed on your face threatening to falter as you decide that he’s utterly delicious.

“Never been before, love.” Finally someone speaks, and it’s the blond. His lips twist into a slow smile. “Nice place you’ve got.”

You hum, returning his stare confidently. “It’s nice back here,” you agree. Then you reach down and pull a small, flat device from your pocket. You lean down and slide it into the centre of the table, making brief eye contact with the man in the centre as you pull yourself back up, a thrill of excitement cracking down your spine as you catch him staring at you. “That’s my pager. If you need me, just press the button and I’ll be here. Can I get you any drinks?”

They rattle off a list of drinks and you nod along, quickly memorising the drinks and faces, matching them with personalities. The guy in the centre goes for a Corona, speaking in a voice that’s just a little too perfect, and as you walk away towards the bar, you find yourself wondering why they’re all here. The private booths are the ideal location for illegal activities to occur, yet you couldn’t see any drugs on them, and none of them seem to have turned up with any documents or briefcases. They aren’t the usual age, either, and they all seem far too friendly to fit the normal typecast of the customers you’d find in the club. They’d smiled at you as you’d taken their orders, none of them looking at you through heady, lusting eyes - not even the man in the centre with the firm, brown gaze had let his stare slip away from your face. They feel like a breath of fresh air hidden away in an extremely stuffy room, and you can’t help but regard them fondly.

When you return to the table with a tray laden with drinks, you’re quick to distribute the bottles and glasses. The men are having a very loud and animated conversation, apparently at the expense of one of the twins, whose freckly face is burning a deep, embarrassed red. You’re in and out in a second, but in the moment you’re leaning across the table to put down a glass, the brunette in the centre meets your gaze again, his thin lips pulling up into a semblance of a smirk. “Thanks, love,” he whispers, tilting the glass towards you as you tuck the tray beneath your arm and step back.

“No problem. Let me know if you need anything else,” you say, nodding at the pager on the table. He glances to the device quickly, before looking back at you, eyes lingering on the curve of your painted lower lip.

“Will do.”

You breeze away from them, your heart rattling against your ribcage as you walk to the back corner and slip into easy conversation with some of the other girls.

Your table get a few more rounds of drinks over the course of the night. Each time you’re there within seconds of the buzzer going off, always with an eager smile on your face. One bonus to the private booths is that the people who rent them out tend to have such a surplus of wealth that the tips are huge, and you’d really like to have the extra cash. So maybe you smile a little wider than usual, and do your best to crack jokes and play along as you talk with the group, but it’s all part of the job, and all part of what’s expected from you. You’re sure the fact that the man in the centre gets your heart racing a little faster than normal has nothing to do with it.

It’s a little after 1am when you’re paged back to the circular table in the corner, the buzzing in your pocket causing you to stifle a yawn. With a start, you walk back to them, your tired feet clacking across the smooth marbled floor. As you draw closer, you realise that there’s only one man there, and with a start, you realise it’s the leader.

“Hi,” you say, smiling nervously. “Friends abandoned you?”

The man shakes his head, the tips of his wavy brown hair shifting delicately. “Gone to the casino,” he explains. He pats the open booth beside him questioningly. “Do you want to sit?” You ponder it for half a second. His voice is open and warm, and it lacks the air of expectation that you’d usually find when patrons ask you a similar question. With a small smile on your face, you sit down beside him. “It’s Y/N, yeah?”

You nod slowly, your bare legs feeling warm against the leather booth. The man is still settled in the centre of the semi-circle, but he slides a little closer to you as you begin to talk, one of his arms hanging over the side of the booth, inviting you closer.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you reply softly. “Are you going to tell me your name, or is that a mystery too?”

The man quirks an eyebrow, and for the first time you notice how endearing his face is. It’s hard, with deep lines crossing his forehead and his cheeks, but when he smiles, the angst fades away, leaving him with a gentle softness about him. His nose is slightly crooked and his lips are thin and lopsided, but he’s undeniably handsome.

“I’m a mystery?” He asks, amused.

“No one’s seen any of you around before,” you say, picking your words carefully. “Normally we get regulars in the VIP section.” You shrug lightly. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, it’s our first time coming here,” he tells you. Then he picks up his hand and offers it to you. “I’m Tom, darling.”

You take his outstretched hand and your smile widens as he takes your fingers into a strong grip. “Nice to meet you, Tom.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

[-----]

You talk with Tom easily, gradually unearthing a few details about the man. He doesn’t give much away, but you gather that he and his brothers own a few businesses around London and they’d come to your club tonight to scout out the competition. 

“Can I get you a drink, love?” He asks, about ten minutes into conversation. 

You’ve got a relaxed smile on your face as you nod in agreement.  “That would be nice,” you tell him. “I can go and get it, though.” You begin to stand, only to feel him reach out and take your hand, his digits loosely brushing up against yours as you meet his sparkly golden eyes.

“No, stay here,” he says, his voice soft. His eyes shift towards the bar and you watch as he catches the gaze of one of the other servers. She walks over to you and takes your order with a jealous grimace on her face, and you find yourself shifting a little closer to Tom as you sit back down.

“So...” You let your lips quirk into a coy smile. “What kinds of things does a man like you enjoy doing?”

Tom hums softly, his hand going to rest on your knee. The tips of his calloused fingertips draw small shapes and circles over your skin, his touch setting off warm fireworks. “I like golf,” he says, laughing quietly as you grimace. “It’s more interesting to play than it is to watch.”

“I’d sure hope so,” you joke. “I don’t think it’s really my thing.”

“Well, what is your thing?” You watch intently as Tom flicks his pink tongue out across his lower lip. Your breath hitches as you realise he’s flirting with you, and you’ve overcome with a strong urge to reciprocate.

“I like painting,” you admit. “Someday I’m going to quit my job here and open up an art gallery.” You reach up slowly, resting the flat hand on his shoulder as the tips of your fingers play around with his soft hair. “Would you be my model, one day?”

Tom brings his other hand to your waist, testing the waters. When you only drift closer to him, he holds your side more firmly, his long, nimble fingers slowly wrapping around you. His touch is intoxicating. 

“I’d be flattered to be your model, darling,” he tells you, eyes sparkling with something between lust and admiration.

As the night draws on, you find yourself inching closer and closer to him, his body heat attracting you like a moth to a flame. His eyes sparkle brightly, shades of golden browns appealing to you easily, and you can’t stop yourself from shamelessly flirting with him, your heart pounding each time he returns it just as thickly.

But you’re not completely blinded by lust. Over the course of your conversation, you pick up on a few unsaid details. First and foremost: Tom has a holster strapped to his belt, and whilst it’s empty, its presence is enough to have your guard up. You know there’s probably a hundred armed men out in the casino, but the sight of it makes you uneasy. Tom’s nice, and maybe a part of you had considered clocking out and leaving with him, but that - and the fact that you can see a pair of brass knuckledusters hanging out of his suit pocket - is enough to sour that idea.

It really is a shame. He’s nothing but charming, in a very sweet, romantic way, and if the circumstances were different, you’d want him in a heartbeat.

By the time Tom’s friends return from the Casino, stacks of cash in hand, you’re practically on top of him. Somewhere between the second and the third beer, he’d pulled you nearer, and now you have your head pressed against his outstretched arm as you sit lazily in his lap, your voice dying halfway through your anecdote as the presence of Tom’s associates disturb your conversation.

“How much?” Tom calls out, his eyes moving away from your face for the first time in an hour. You watch as his pupils dilate, swallowing the golden flecks of his irises as he stares at the rolls of cash greedily.

“50k.” The blond...Harrison, you think, says. “We should come back more often.” His blue eyes twinkle knowingly as he takes in the way you’re spread over Tom. “You ready to go, mate?”

You feel Tom shift beneath you, a hand going to sit on your waist as he hums. “Go settle the tab, yeah? I’ll be over in a minute.”

Harrison nods, and you watch as the group approach the bar and begin to sift through the rolls of cash. Clearing your throat, you stretch out your arm and move out of Tom’s lap, distancing yourself from him as you give him a coy smile.

“Well… I guess it’s goodnight, Tom,” you say, watching him carefully. His eyebrows furrow together slightly as an expression of intrigue passes over his face.

“Don’t suppose you’d want to come home with me, love?” He asks, voice honest and open. He reaches down and takes one of your hands in his, his calloused thumb passing over the back of your knuckles. The touch makes you bite your lower lip, and for a brief moment, you find yourself wishing you could.

“Sorry,” you say instead, ignoring the way a part of you wants to explore the man further. You’ve seen the holster and the knuckledusters. “I don’t know you.”

Surprise replaces his intrigue, but Tom remains looking at you fondly. He nods his head, holding your gaze as he brings your hand to his mouth, pressing his intoxicating lips to the back of your hand and kissing your skin softly. “I’ll see you around then, darling,” he mumbles, finally releasing your hand as he presses it back to your lap. He stands up and shimmies out of the booth, tossing his suit jacket over his shoulder as he goes. “It was lovely spending the evening with you, Y/N.”

Your smile is soft, genuine. “You too, Tom. Have a nice night.”

He raises his hand in a brief wave, and then turns, meeting with his friends by the door. They leave together, and you take a moment to sit against the back of the booth, breathing heavily through your mouth as your thoughts run rampant through your mind.

Everything about Tom feels to be a juxtaposition. His suit was expensive and he left the casino £50,000 richer, yet his shoes were scruffy and his watch looked old and worn. He’s clearly used to control, but he was perfectly content with you setting the lines and the limits. He has an obvious affinity for the darker arts, but his touch was always kind and gentle. Tom is a perfect paradox, and you can’t help but keep him in your thoughts as you begin to clear away the dirty glasses, your smile remaining on your lips for the rest of the night.

[-----]

When you come in for your shift a few days later, you’re called into Loretta’s office immediately. Dread and anticipation hang heavy in your stomach as you nervously push open her door, hoping with every part of you that she hasn’t called you in to fire you. You’re left utterly perplexed as the tall woman greets you with a long, tight hug.

“Y/N, my darling!” She exclaims, releasing you and gesturing down at a chair. You slip into it apprehensively as she walks around to sit behind her desk, her eyes bright and excited. “You’ve got a tip.”

Your eyes widen. “A tip?” You echo, voice uncertain. Normally the tips would be added to your pay-check at the end of the month, no further comment needed. The way she’s staring at you like you’re a celebrity makes you nervous.

“Someone left an anonymous tip for you,” she says, voice high. “I’ve already deducted the club’s percentage.” Loretta passes you a bulging envelope. “It leaves you with just under £5,000.”

Your jaw drops.

“What… The fuck,” you manage, eyes bulging as you tear open the envelope and run your thumb through the thick stack of cash. “Who?”

Your boss shrugs. “Anonymous,” she repeats. “Just thought you’d appreciate the heads up. I’ll keep it out of the books, as long as you don’t mention this to anyone.” Her voice is low, and you nod quickly, knowing that she’s doing you both a favour: the club takes a cut of all tips received, and you know that you’ll both come out better if the tax office doesn’t learn of your bonus.

“Thank you,” you say, flabbergasted. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing,” she advises. “Just take it.” As you rise to your feet and slip the envelope into your bag, she adds, “You can go back to serving the bar, as usual. I’ll get Monica to cover the private booths.”

“Thanks,” you say again, your voice soft and shaken. She bids you goodbye as you walk back to the lockers, your eyes wide and your mind scrambled.

You want to assume it’s Tom who’s left the tip. You don’t think you’ve made a big enough impression on anyone else recently to be rewarded this generously. It baffles you, because you hadn’t ever expected this, but then you find yourself warming to the idea. You’d gotten on well with Tom, and maybe a small part of you has been regretting denying him, and this… Well, this act of generosity would suggest that he’s still thinking about you, and that’s a very nice thought.

You begin your shift with a wide smile on your face, knowing your rent is taken care of for the next few months. It puts a lightness in your step, and you find yourself winning over all the patrons you come into contact with, your wallet growing heavier and heavier as the night draws by. A few times, you find yourself gazing around the bar, looking for Tom, expecting to see him, but not feeling surprised when you don’t. He’d told you himself that he was only in the club to scout out a rival business - why would he return after gathering his reconnaissance?

He doesn’t turn up that night. Or the next. Or even the next. You have to wait another week before you see another sign of him, and even then, it’s not actually him.

You’re clearing away a table when you feel a tap on your shoulder and turn around to see Harrison standing there, a black suit pulled around him so perfectly that he looks like a model and it takes your breath away for a second.

“Y/N?” He asks, voice clear and bright. You give him a nod, your eyebrows pulling up into confusion as he procures a red rose and passes it to you. “I’m Harrison, Tom’s mate. We met the other night.”

You twirl the stem between your fingers, glancing between the delicate petals and Harrison’s watchful face. “Yeah, I remember.”

He nods his head at the rose. “Tom wanted you to have that. He also wanted to know if you’d gotten his gift?”

The thorns on the rose nick your finger and you curse softly, bringing your thumb to your mouth and sucking away the small drop of blood. Harrison watches you intently, his eyes twinkling as he holds back a laugh.

“You mean the tip?” You ask after a moment, pulling your hand away from your face. You cross your arms over your chest as you stare the man down. “You do know that was an obscene amount of money, right?”

Harrison chuckles, running a hand through his blond curls. “I know,” he agrees. “Tom wouldn’t hear anything else. Apparently you made quite the impression.” His eyes sweep across you briefly. “He wanted to know if you’d join him for a date tomorrow night.”

You hum, your eyebrow raising slightly. “And why are you here asking me out, instead of him?” 

Harrison’s eyes widen at your controlled tone, his cheeks tinting with a rosy blush. “He’s busy.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “Well, you can tell Tom that I appreciate the gesture, but if he wants to take me on a date, he needs to come down here and ask me himself.” Acting on impulse, you pass Harrison back the rose, your eyes dancing mischievously. 

Harrison looks a little taken aback, but he nods slowly and looks at you with a shade of respect in his gaze. “I will pass on the message.”

“Thanks, Harrison.” You turn back to the table you’re clearing and you watch from the corner of your eye as he turns and walks away, leaving the club with the rose in his hands.

Your heart hammers in your chest, as part of you can’t believe you’ve just turned him down so boldly. But you know it’s for the best, because men like Tom can be dangerous, and if he thinks he can get away with anything, then that’s not the kind of person you want to see. You decide that if he can swallow his pride and show up to see you himself, then you’ll be happy to lean into him, but you won’t fall at his feet just because he’s flashed some cash. If he doesn’t respond to your demands, at least you’ll come out richer for it. But a part of you thinks you’ve got him nailed down, and you have the feeling he thrives on games like these, and so you return to the club the next night expecting to see him, and you’re not surprised when you do.

Tom’s leaning up against the bar, talking with one of the strippers amicably. The feathers coming out of her plumed headband fall onto his forehead as they laugh closely together, and an irrational stab of jealousy twists up through your insides as you watch them. It’s ridiculous, and you quickly swallow it back, but as Tom meets your eyes from across the room, you know he’s seen the envy in your eyes. His thin lips pull into a smirk and he beckons you over, your legs moving of their own accord.

As you get to Tom, he leans down and whispers something in the woman’s ear. You watch as her expression falls, and then she pulls away from Tom to circle the room in search of another visitor. He greets you by opening his arms, and you pause for a moment before sinking into them, his fingers finding your waist as your head goes to the crook of his neck, finding home briefly in his warmth and the rich scent of his powerful cologne. As you pull back, one of his hands goes back to his side, but the other finds your face for a moment, holding you softly as his lips brush over your cheek. You have to bite back a smile as he mumbles a quiet, “Evening, love,” not wanting him to see how utterly giddy it makes you feel to have him so close again.

“Hi, Tom,” you reply, your head clearing up as he finally drops contact with your skin. Your eyes drift over his familiar face, taking in the details of his handsome features. “Looking for a stripper, eh?”

“Not unless she’s called Y/N,” he replies, voice controlled but suggestive. You chuckle quietly, your face heating a little as you grow slightly bashful.

“Smooth,” you comment. “You gonna buy me a drink?”

“Whatever you want,” he promises. His eyes sweep over the room. “You’re not working?”

You shrug as you slip up at the bar, Tom settling on the stool beside you. One of his hands goes to rest on your knee, the contact firm and grounding, and it makes your body fill with a subtle, thrumming heat. “I am, technically,” you say. “But it’s my job to entertain the guests,” you shift your gaze to his suggestively, “and I’d say you’re in need of a little fun.”

“You’re definitely right there, darling.”

You drink a few rounds with Tom, treating yourself to some of the bar’s most expensive wine because he’s already given them his card and you free rein over the drinks menu. Any reluctance you feel to exploit his kindness disappears as you remember how easily he’d left the casino up £50k the other night, and as you slowly grow lighter and your bloodstream more diluted, you find yourself loosening up. Tom does too, and as you talk about any and everything, his hair becomes messier as his cheeks flush. Your knees touch and sometimes your shoulders brush, and it’s like the rest of the world burns away until it’s just you, and him, laughing, talking, feeling, and it’s so natural that you almost forget that you come from two different worlds.

But then Tom shifts on the stool, and your eyes catch his empty holster, and you’re slammed back to earth, your mood shifting. He picks up on it immediately, his eyebrows furrowing as he reaches out and picks up your hand, playing with your fingers softly. “You alright there, love?”

You hum. “What do you want from me, Tom?” You ask after a moment, voice unassuming.

“What do you mean?”

You give him a coy smile. “You know what I mean,” you tease. “Chatting with me, leaving me thousands of pounds, getting your friend to ask me out… Even being here tonight. What do you want?” And your voice is open and honest, and Tom ponders it for a few moments before squeezing your hand.

“You intrigue me, Y/N,” he admits. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the night we met… I don’t know why, or what I want from you, but I guess, I’d quite like to know, what do you want from me?”

“Oh, no, you don’t get to turn this on me.”

“Why not? I’m definitely allowed to do that.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re sneaky, Tom,” you mumble. “If I’m being honest, part of me thought you’d show up tonight and expect me to leave with you. Because, y’know, the money.” He opens his mouth to argue, but you raise an eyebrow and he pauses. “I don’t think you’re that kind of guy, though. Are you?”

He shakes his head quickly. “I’m not a dick.”

“Arrogant, sometimes?”

“Yeah.”

“A bit egotistical?”

“Well, uh, I guess you could say that.”

“Dominating?”

Tom’s eyes shift a shade darker as he nods. “You like to talk,” he comments, bringing a smile to your face.

“I can leave you to your thoughts, if you’d prefer that,” you tease. He tightens his grip on your hand, and for the first time you look down at his fingers and notice that his knuckles are bruised and bloodied. “Shit, what happened here?” You bring his hands nearer your face, gently grazing your touch over the curves of his cut knuckles. He winces but he lets you inspect the injuries.

“Nothing,” he mutters. When you tighten your gaze, he shrugs haplessly. “Got in a fight. No big deal.”

“Yeah, right.” You rise from the stool, dragging him with you. You’re about to turn and pull him across the room when you hesitate. “Are you packing?” He looks surprised by the question, so you add, “I won’t take you backstage if you’re dangerous.”

“I’ve not got a gun on me,” he says, dodging half the question but it’s good enough for you. You lead him out, through the bar, past the casino, and you pull him through a large door that says Staff Only and take him back to one of the locker rooms. It’s peak time so the room is quiet, and you sit him down on a bench as you grab a clean cloth from beside the sink and run it under some warm water.

“If you don’t take care of your injuries, they’ll scar,” you tell him as you dab at his knuckles. Tom’s gaze burns into your cheek as you wash away the dried blood, exposing the deep colours of fresh bruises just below. You glance up at him, your breath hitching in your throat as you meet his stare, his eyes dancing with a thousand different words. “Who’d look after you if I wasn’t here, huh?” You walk across the room before returning with a cotton pad soaked in disinfectant. “This might hurt,” you warn, but Tom doesn’t even flinch as you drag the pad over his cracked skin. You throw the pad into the bin and then settle in front of him, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare at him questioningly.

“Come sit,” he says finally, his voice more laboured than before. He spreads his legs a little and pats at his lap, and without hesitation you step forward and straddle him. You have to shift around until you’re comfortable, but you manage to stretch your legs out behind him on the bench and his hands go to anchor your hips in place. Your faces are really close now, and he easily brings a hand up to settle on your cheek, the tips of his fingers resting on your cheekbones. “You’re unbelievable, you know that, love?”

You smile slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just…” He breaks off, sighing comically. “So fucking perfect.” The compliment draws your smile into a large grin as you chuckle softly.

“Perfect, eh?” You tease, running a hand over his shoulder. You rest it at the nape of his neck, your fingers playing with the tips of his hair. “I don’t think perfect exists.”

“It does,” he says immediately.

“Maybe.” Acting boldly, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his jaw, admiring the sharp line with your mouth as he sighs beneath you. “You’re a dangerous man, aren’t you?” You say, finishing your trail of kisses at his ear. You let your breath fan out across his skin for a moment before pressing a final kiss to his earlobe, feeling his body tense beneath you.

“Yeah,” he admits.

You pull yourself back to face him, your eyebrow arched. “Will you keep me safe?” You ask. It hangs heavy in the air, a multitude of layers hidden away behind the few words.

Tom nods, a hand drawing up to find home in your hair. His fingers bury in the strands and he uses his leverage to draw you nearer until your noses are touching, his cold skin pressing to yours in the most delicate way.

“I will always protect you,” he promises, voice serious.

Your lips quirk into a slight smile. “Kiss me,” you ask.

His mouth is on yours in an instant, lips chapped but warm as they slide over yours. It’s soft, for a moment, but then you grip his hair and pull him nearer and it grows stronger. Passion flows between you as you cling to him, his mouth hot and luxurious and it draws a heat between your legs as you feel his teeth catch at your lower lip. When you part your lips and grant him access, his tongue dances with yours and you moan into his mouth, every inch of you aching for him, burning with desire to keep him here. His hand in your hair holds you close as the other wanders over your side, caressing your figure softly but warmly, and you turn to butter in his hold, kissing, and kissing, and kissing, until your lips are numb and your lungs burn. When you pull away, he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes pulling open just enough to make brief contact with yours. He looks softer now, less anxious, more in control.

“I wish I could do that forever,” he admits. Both hands find your waist, holding you comfortably as he smirks at you. “You’re something else.”

You shrug slightly, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you, Tom,” you tease, eyeing him carefully. “You gonna come back again tomorrow?”

He raises a scruffy eyebrow. “You want me to come back tomorrow?”

Your lips split into a wide smile. “Yeah,” you admit. “Maybe the day after that, too. If you want.”

“I’ll be here,” he promises. “I’ll be here for as long as you want me to be.”

You kiss him again, softer. His lips are warm and they already feel a little bit like home. You realise that he’s got you, both physically, because his fingers grip your waist so strongly, but also emotionally, because you look into the depths of his warm, mysterious eyes, and you realise you don’t want to forget what they look like.

“I might want you around for a long time. Is that a problem?”

Tom shakes his head, body relaxing. He kisses you. “Not a problem at all,” he confirms. “I feel like… I feel like you might change my life, love.”

You laugh quietly, rolling your eyes. “Who knew you’d be such a sap,” you tease. Tom frowns, his grip on your waist tightening, and you swallow deeply as he steadies you. “I’m kidding. Relax.” You kiss him again, quickly.

“You think you can just distract me with kisses?” He says, voice confident. You nod your head arrogantly.

“Oh, yeah,” you confirm. “I think you’re the kind of person who will be very easy to distract.” To prove your point, you take a long moment to grind your hips down, feeling the hard presence of his erection pressing up against your covered core. You giggle and your head falls to the crook of his neck, and Tom’s hands rub over your back as he holds you close.

“You’re a minx,” he says. “Such a tease.”

“I’m a lot of things,” you whisper against his neck. You feel his lips brush over the top of your head and let him hold you, close, gripping you tightly, and it feels like you’ve known him for infinity already.

“I’m excited to figure you out, Y/N.”

You tilt your head and run a line of brief kisses up his neck until eventually finding his lips, seizing them in a short peck. “Me too, Tom,” you admit. “I feel like you’re gonna be really special to me,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“Oh, so who’s the sap now, huh?” He teases, drawing your smile wider.

“Shut up,” you say.

“Make me.”

And then, quite simply, you’re back to kissing, and you know he’s dangerous, and you know he’s powerful, but his touch on your waist is gentle and he’s kissing you so slowly and softly that none of that really matters. It doesn’t matter that you don’t entirely know who he is, because there’s a connection tethering your soul to his, and you can feel it - even if it’s only been a few days. It’s a type of connection that you’ve never felt before, and it thrills you, but it also terrifies you. Because you know that the man beneath you holds the keys to the world, but it comes at a cost, and you’re not sure you can afford the price if it all falls apart.

But fuck it. He’s kissing you, and it’s perfect, and you crave to stay like this forever, curled up in his lap like this. So what if the world burns? You’re perfectly happy exactly where you are, Tom’s hands on your hips, your mouths moving in sync. And as he holds you close, you know there’s nowhere else your heart would be safer than tucked up here with him.

[boymeetsweevil]

in your court

Grouping: Reader x B-ball player!Jaehyun (feat. BFF!Hyuck)

Word Count: ~10.8k

Warnings/Themes: Two idiots in love, oc is scary when mad, hyuck is crafty always, jae is a bit intense but he’s just trying his best, gratuitous descriptions of dimples, a kiss!!! sfw!

Prompt: “awkward!oc with his basketball teammate jaehyun. Honestly anything with bff!haechan.”

“Make sure you don’t make it look shaky.”

Donghyuck puts the phone camera close to his face so he can better see your handiwork through the video call. He looks a bit like a fish, but you can’t see him because you’re focused on the mirror in front of you.

“Remind me why I’m being forced to do this?”

“Because I’m your best friend and I deserve a sign just as much as Jisung and Johnny.”

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes so you don’t mess up the number 14 you’re drawing carefully onto your cheek in eyeliner. Although you hate to see good makeup go to waste, you’re trying to be a better friend while also trying not to accidentally write the number backwards. It’s Donghyuck’s new number this season and he begged you to show some team spirit despite the fact that you normally mix with sports the same way oil mixes with water. The last time you showed up at practice was the first day of the season and you fell from the third courtside bleacher after Donghyuck called you over to introduce you to a cute new walk-on team member. If anything, just being around sports is dangerous for you.

A minute later, you sneeze while holding the pencil and draw a huge line straight through all your hard work. Donghyuck literally screams and you hang up the call to focus. When you finally finish redrawing on the side of your face, there’s half an hour left before the first home game of the spring season starts. You grab the matching construction paper sign you made earlier, complete with a huge gold glitter 14, and head out the door.  Taeyong is supposed to pick you up so you can make it to the gym on time. He’s the only other friend you have who is remotely associated with sports and that’s only because he’s dating one of the players, Doyoung.

The ticket Donghyuck gave you days ago places you near the court’s side with a near-perfect view. You settle in and wait for the game to begin. The team is already out on half of the court, doing some light warmup tosses and making the occasional mean eye at the visiting team practicing on the other half. You catch your best friend’s eye and he lights up when he sees the sign and eyeliner drawing.

“Check me out, Hyuck!” 

You turn to give him a full view of your profile, subtly proud of your skills.

“Look at you,” he drawls as he jogs over to you, “You know, I think this is the best your eyeliner has ever looked.”

“God, you’re so annoying.” 

You try your best to cast an elbow at him without disturbing the still slightly wet glitter on the sign. When you nearly take out the old man sitting directly in front of you, you settle for flipping him off.

“Wait,” Taeyong peers at the sign, “Aren’t you—”

“I think Doyoung said he was looking for you. Something about wanting a good luck kiss.”

Taeyong narrows his eyes but still stands up to go look for said boyfriend. Doyoung’s not the nervous type, but he’s also not the type to say no to some pre-game affection. You watch Taeyong disappear towards the locker room while Donghyuck steps over some of the fans already seated and takes the now open spot next to you.

“Hey,” he says with no trace of humor in his voice any longer. “Promise you’ll still be my friend after this game?”

You place the sign on your lap and turn to look at your friend. Lately the coach has been pushing him harder and you suppose it’s starting to wear down his usual confidence. With the hand that’s not covered in little golden glitter flecks, you reach down to rub his shoulder.

“Of course I will, Hyuck. And even if you guys don’t win tonight, I’m still taking you to get food after. My treat.”

It was supposed to be a rare moment of sincere friendliness. But this seems to distress him further because he looks down at your hand on his arm and then groans before covering his face in his hands. You’re confused but you don’t have any time to ask him what’s up. A few of his teammates walk over then.

“Sorry to break up the love fest, but Coach wants us to do some stretches before the whistle,” team captain Johnny says, gesturing to the other side of the gym where some other players are already contorting themselves. 

Behind Johnny stands that new walk-on. The one you fell on your face in front of. He takes in your temporary face tattoo and overly detailed sign and smirks, allowing a dimple to wink at you. You can only hope to every deity in the universe that he doesn’t remember the way you first met.

“Hey,” he smiles good-naturedly. “Glad to see you made it here in one piece.” 

“Thank you,” you say with way too much sincerity.

It’s enough to knock Donghyuck out of his bad mood and make him snort loudly beside you. The new guy smiles a bit wider, revealing a twin dimple. You look away.

“Don’t get too friendly, Jung,” Donghyuck says with fake menace in his voice. “There’s only room for one Dream Team member in her life, and that’s me.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you guys were—”

“We’re just friends,” you blurt out before looking down at the fascinating liver spots on the old man’s head in front of you.

“Yeah, she wishes.”

“I definitely don’t,” you snap.

He sticks his tongue out at you. “Well, I’m glad you don’t.” 

“Guys, come on!” Johnny calls a moment before the coach’s whistle blows to give a final warning.

As they walk over to the side of the gym you curse yourself for acting so weird in front of that Jung kid. If he didn’t think you were a dope when you tripped over nothing the first time you met, you’re certain he thinks you have the charms of a 13 year-old boy by now. The only thing that snaps you out of it is the fact that Donghyuck is in a time of distress and clearly needs his friend. 

With squared shoulders and a new sense of duty, you try your hardest to be the world’s best cheerleader. You’re not really sure how sports work, basketball included. The game itself turns out to be really fun. Even though you’re not quite sure what’s happening. Taeyong sends you a text with a picture of your own mildly confused face contorted into a pout as you raise your handmade sign a moment too late, after everyone has already sat back down. But eventually you figure it out after enough times of standing when people around you wearing school colors stand up first. You know enough to cheer every time Donghyuck takes the ball to the basket and boo loudly every time he gets knocked down or his shot misses. In fact, you get so into it that you catch yourself cheering for other players. You even make the mistake of cheering once for new kid Jung but immediately stop when he catches a glimpse of you in the stands and shoots you a beaming smile. 

They win by a small margin, thanks to a 3 pointer Johnny shot in the first half of the game. By the time that happens, you feel like you have a good feel for the game. You don’t have to wait for the other fans from your school to stand up when the last buzzer rings, and you instinctively run out onto the court with the rest of them as the final score settles. There’s adrenaline and joy pushing you into Donghyuck’s arms. He’s genuinely surprised but welcomes the greeting, spinning you lightly while he laughs.

“Congrats on the first win of the season,” you shout when you finally pull back. He lets you squish his cheeks in excitement. Doyoung ambles over then, looking for Taeyong. You offer him congratulations as well.

“Thanks,” he smirks a bit as he takes in your large sign and the slightly smudged 14 on your cheek. “Shouldn’t Jaehyun be the first to hear it, though?”

You raise a confused brow.

“Shouldn’t I be the first to hear what?”

You can’t help the way you stumble back against Donghyuck at the deep sound of Jung—no— Jaehyun’s voice. He looks pleased. Probably with the outcome of their first game.

“I was just saying you should get the first ‘congrats’,” Doyoung explains, nodding in your direction. Jaehyun blinks, but takes it in stride.

“I’d be glad to receive it,” he says with a grin. His dimples pop out even more than usual under the sheen of sweat and the glow from the fluorescents. “So, what’d you think? How’d I do?”

You have no idea why but your heart is beating like it’ll fly out of your chest. It takes everything in you to muster up a cool and natural response.

“You throw good.”

Donghyuck, the traitor that he is, gets sent into a cackling fit. If you listen carefully, between the gasps for air and the hyena-pitched giggles you can hear him calling you a dork. You’d turn to yell at him, but he’s right. Doyoung barely covers up his own laughter while leaning on Donghyuck’s shoulder to try to disguise the sound as a series of coughs. But Jaehyun merely smiles down at his shoes as if he’s somehow moved by your clunky words.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“No, I feel like I did well today thanks to your little sign.”

“The sign? Oh. Actually, this is for—” 

In that moment you realize two things. The first is that Jaehyun’s jersey has a big 14 emblazoned on the front of it. Just like the one you spent 10 whole minutes drawing onto your right cheek. And the one you spent 2 hours glittering the night before. The second is that you aren’t nearly as observant as you thought you were. Then you realize a third thing: Donghyuck is slowly creeping away from you as it all clicks together in your head.

When you turn to face your friend, the color has already drained out of his neck. He can see the wheels turning in your head and he raises his hands in a placating gesture, but you cut him off before he can even start. Grabbing at his jersey you make him turn around until you can see the white number 6 emblazoned on the fabric. It’s the same number he had last season, and the season before that.

“Just to clarify,” you begin with an unsettlingly calm voice, “When you asked me earlier if I would still be your friend after the game, you were talking about this, right?”

Donghyuck’s eyes go wide and dart around anywhere but your face. “You know what? I think you’re thinking of my brother, Hyongduck. We look a lot alike, so it’s an honest mistake.”

The coach calling him over in that moment is the only thing that keeps you from eviscerating him on the court with so many witnesses. You let him go, but not without him having to un-pry your fingers from his jersey. Jaehyun watches on with amusement in his eyes and you remember that he saw you nearly Hulk out on your friend.

“So, you actually didn’t know my number was 14?”

You shake your head, “I thought it was Hyuck’s.”

“I see.”

He tilts his head again, with eyes narrowed he looks you over before looking past you to where Donghyuck has finally made it to locker room safety.

“Well,” he fiddles with the chain around his neck, “I’m kind of sad the sign isn’t actually mine.”

“Oh. I mean, you can keep it if you want.”

Jaehyun’s head ducks down a second time, shaking his head at the ground like he heard something funny that you couldn’t hear. He does take the sign out of your hands though. With slow hands, he wraps the construction paper up until all the remaining glitter is safely tucked away.

“What about that one?”

“What do you mean?”

He points at his own cheek to mirror yours. You had forgotten all about the 14 you drew on your face to go with the sign.

“I don’t—I don’t know if you can wrap this one up, you know” you laugh stiltedly.

“Yeah. But I could always take a bit for the road. May I?”

All you can do is let out an eloquent ‘huh’ before he’s reaching out then and swiping away at some of the eyeliner that had moved around during the game. The drag of the pad of his thumb across your cheek should be completely harmless. Donghyuck has been infinitely rougher with his handling of you; one of the privileges of close friendship. And yet it’s this soft touch that has your breath leaving you like he punched it out of you. You swear the corner of his mouth raises, but it could be a trick of the light.

“What are you doing after—”

“I gotta go, sorry. Good game,” you toss over your shoulder before pulling your phone up to your ear like you’re taking a sudden phone call. 

No one has to know that you spend the next few minutes dunking your head under one of the running faucets in an empty locker room to cool your heated face.

---

Nearly 20 minutes later, Donghyuck is tiptoeing out of the men’s locker room. He doesn’t notice the shadow waiting for him. When he deems the coast all clear, he opens up his messaging app and shoots you a text asking for your whereabouts.

“I’m right here.”

He jumps nearly 3 feet in the air before letting the scream that built in his throat turn into a whine. You’re just barely visible in the dark corner of the gym. If he squints you look a bit like his sleep paralysis demon.

“You scared me,” he says as he takes a step back only to hit a wall.

“Funny how that happens.”

You pull out your phone, stilling standing in the dark, and let the light from your phone cast eerie shadows across your face. Donghyuck gulps audibly as he watches you type slowly in response to his text. The sound of his phone notification moments later sounds deafening in the otherwise silent space.

You (21:39) - Run.

“Look, let’s talk this out like adults.” His hands come up, palms exposed like you’re a feral animal.

“I knew you weren’t number 14,” your voice is steady and devoid of emotion as you take a step towards him.

“Then you shouldn’t have fallen for it—shit. Wait!”

He trips in his haste to get away from you and falls. You foot lands dangerously close to his face as you come to stand in over him and he grimaces.

“Please don’t kill me, I’ll do anything.”

“Why did you tell me your number was Jaehyun’s number? Make it good and maybe I’ll let you live.”

“I just felt like it.”

“What the hell!”

“I’m serious.”

“Wrong answer, Hyuck.”

With that, you wriggle a foot free from one of your sneakers and shove your socked foot over his nose. You’ve been wearing the shoes all day and, because you forgot to do laundry the night before, the socks are recycled. The sound of Donghyuck’s cries for help make you slightly better and you smile softly to yourself.

You would think that Donghyuck would have learned his lesson about not causing chaos in your life after a face-full of foot. But you should know that it’s practically his job description after knowing him for as long as you have. Sometimes you love that about him and sometimes you kind of hate him for it. This time, you hate him for it. 

Donghyuck prefaces the outing as a way of apologizing for tricking you. Normally you would have been slightly more critical. The first thing to tip you off should have been the fact the “apology" in question was coming almost two and a half weeks after the fateful jersey swap accident. The second thing should have been that the “apology” was coming in the form of a trip to a very specific tea house you don’t frequent because you’re not a tea person. And Donghyuck knows this. Because he knows everything else about you. Like which sweatpants you wear when you’re feeling bloated or when you just need a hug. But mainly you should have known something was up because it was Donghyuck. When he feels like he should do something, there’s no stopping him.

“What do you want to order,” he asks while holding the front door open for you to pass through. 

“A smoothie.”

“It’s a damn tea house, order something normal.”

“A smoothie is normal.”

“Do you order hot dogs at seafood restaurants too,” he pins you with a tired glare. You mirror the glare and add crossed arms.

“If they don’t have a smoothie, then I don’t want anything.”

You take a look around at the interior of the shop. It’s the polar opposite of the shops you usually frequent, which are all trendy with their mixes of dark, unfinished woodwork and sleek minimalist furniture. This place is almost cottage-like in the ornateness of the older architecture and the collection of kitschy antique pieces. You’re not surprised to see that a good deal of the patrons are older, some verging on elderly. There’s only a handful of people who look like they could be your peers. One of them looks oddly familiar. You can’t put your finger on it, but there’s something familiar about the way he stands and the delicate gold links laying across the back of his neck.

“Jaehyun,” Donghyuck calls a bit too excitedly, “Hey, man is that you? What are you doing here”

“You told me to meet you—” Donghyuck cuts him off with a dramatic gasp and a glance at his bare wrist.

“Aw, would you look at the time. I actually have somewhere to be right now, so I can’t stick around.”

“But you drove us here,” you whip your head around to look at him, but he coughs suddenly and looks away.

“Yeah, sorry. No time to drop you back off at your place, so I guess you have to figure that out yourself. Jae drives though. Maybe you can figure something out.”

Neither of you really know what to say. You watch silently with your mouth open in disbelief as Donghyuck turns on his heel and struts out of the tea shop exit, whistling contentedly. You suppose that if you’re the god of chaos reincarnated, all of this would feel like a good day’s work. You berate yourself for recently washing your socks.

“Good to see you again,” Jaehyun says after a beat. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Thought I had scared you off after...yeah.”

“Oh, right. That.”

The air feels both too thick and too thin at the same time. You want to leave, every fiber of your being is screaming at you to leave before you do something weird in front of him again. But you can’t move. So you stand there, 3 feet away and not saying anything as Jaehyun looks over the large chalkboard menu hanging above the head of the older woman who is manning the front counter.

“What are you getting?”

“Me? Uh, I don’t know. I’m not really a tea person.”

“Well, what kind of person are you?”

Given the context, it’s a harmless question. But there’s a sing-songy lilt to the way he asks the question. It’s so blatant that curiosity gets the best of you and you stop purposefully avoiding looking at him. One of his dimples is out and he’s very nearly poking the tip of his tongue out at you, like he knows you’re suffering and he thinks it's funny. Almost like he’s flirting. Almost.

“I’m a smoothie person,” you finally say. “But there’s no smoothies on the menu.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“But doesn’t it say ‘no customizations’?” 

There’s a sign on the edge of the counter that says just that. Despite the fact that it’s written in beautiful, looping cursive, there’s an ominous tone to the message. Like the little old lady behind the counter might actually make you into tea if you asked for a frappe or something. You’re a little worried for Jaehyun’s safety. He must sense some sort of hesitance because he brushes it off and gestures toward the rest of the shop.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it, you can go grab us a table.”

The way he says ‘us’ so casually has you tripping slightly over nothing. He’s somehow there in the nick of time to grab at your elbow in a gentlemanly fashion to help steady you. Perhaps you yank yourself out of his proximity a little too quickly. But it’s only because you really want to find a good table and you can’t do that if Jaehyun is distracting you by grabbing at your limbs. 

In actuality, though, the tea shop is fairly vacant. There are a variety of tables with pressed white tablecloths and dainty tiered tea trays housing pastries. You pick one at random and sit down. Part of you really does wish you’d left when Donghyuck did. But the other part is curious to see what Jaehyun’s like when he’s away from his team and truly outside the context you usually find him in. So you compromise and watch as subtly as you can.

He seems fairly similar—all charming smiles and pretty hair while approaching the counter to talk with the lady you assume is the owner of the shop. She looks stern as she polishes some dainty bone china, but brightens when he comes to the counter. You watch in quiet awe as she reaches a hand up to pat fondly at the side of his face, most likely pinching a cheek from the angle you’re sitting at. You see him run a hand over the back of his neck which grows red after he says something to her that she must not like. Her brow grows heavy and her lips purse but he says something else then that has her directing her sharp gaze at you. You gulp and pretend you were merely admiring the tea sandwich tray on the table as opposed to spying. A wave of sudden embarrassment comes over you and you open up your phone to text Donghyuck

You (15:38) - this is a shit apology just so u know

You (15:38) - come get me plz

Hyuck (15:40) - sorry suddenly cant read dont know what that says :)

You place your phone face down onto the table and cross your arms with a huff. While trying to plan an escape that makes you look the least asshole-y possible, Jaehyun returns with the drinks. More specifically, he returns with a tall water glass in one hand that’s filled with a pale tea with fruit chunks and mint leaves sprinkled throughout. The other hand is encased in a floral appliqué oven mitt that holds the prettiest squat little teapot you’ve ever seen. It’s blue, so it doesn’t match the pastel green teacups organized on the tablecloth, but it’s still a lovely sight.

“What’s this,” you stir at the fruit in the glass with an elegant teaspoon.

“It’s a chilled fruit tea,” he explains while casually pouring himself a steaming cup of black tea. “I tried my hardest with Mrs. Li, but there was no way I was gonna get you a smoothie. This is the closest thing I could get.”

“You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble. I would have been fine with just a water. I don’t want to get you in trouble with the owner.”

“Don’t worry. I think my reputation is fine for now.”

It’s weirdly fascinating to watch him fix up his tea. As a member of a basketball team, you would have never thought he’d be a tea drinker. Let alone a tea drinker who takes heaping spoonfuls of sugar to go with a tiny splash of milk in his tea. He hums a little to himself as he stirs it all with a silver spoon that’s been crafted to look like roses are growing up the stem. When he looks up a moment later, he catches you staring at him. His eyes crinkle and they look like they did when he looked at you after shooting a 3 at the latest home game, full of quiet joy. Both then and now you’re not sure what the smile means or why it seems to be for you. You look down and realize his lips are moving.

“What?”

He chuckles at how far away you sound. “I said ‘how’s the tea?’”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know yet. I got distracted. I was...thinking.”

“Mhm.” There’s smugness practically oozing out of his thoughtful hum.

You take a sip to appease him and frantically search for something to say that won’t make it obvious that you aren’t a fan of tea, but then you stop yourself. It’s no smoothie, but it really is the next best thing. The tea is cold like a smoothie, providing the same reprieve from the sticky heat of Spring. The tea with all its macerated berries and mint leaves is sweet and thick much like a smoothie.

“This is amazing,” you peer down at the cup like you’re not sure where half the glass went.

A light weight lands on your shoulder then. “That’s very kind of you, dear. High praise coming from a non-tea-drinker.”

It takes a lot of effort not to scream and even then your eyes open comically wide and you jump in your seat. Jaehyun has to disguise his laughter at your reaction by turning away in his seat as you turn in yours to face the old lady who was at the counter.

“I’m sorry for any trouble you went to so you could make this, Mrs. Li, Ma’am. I told Jaehyun that I wanted a smoothie and he was just trying to make me feel comfortable.”

“Oh, I know. Jaehyun’s been coming to the shop since I opened it, so he should know all about my ban on requests.” Mrs. Li eyes Jaehyun as he takes an innocent sip of his tea. “He’s always been courteous about it, so I thought he must have a darn good reason for breaking my rule this time.”

Jaehyun’s hand slips while pouring a second cup, but he doesn’t say anything as Mrs. Li continues to expose him. 

“Now, that reminds me. Jaehyun, my boy, I’m sorry to tell you that Kevin won’t be coming to his sessions this week. He has a dentist appointment and it can’t be helped,” she sighs and waves her hands.

“That’s alright. As long as he practices a little every day he should be in good shape and we can pick up right where we stopped.”

She nods and for a moment the serious expression on her face morphs into something softer. Patting the back of his chair, she looks over the table and then at you.

“Alright. I hope everything is to your liking, but if something does come up do feel free to tell Jaehyun. He’s a very capable young man and he knows the shop like the back of his hand. I’d better get back to work now. The silver won’t polish itself.”

You wait a few beats to be respectful, but as soon as Mrs. Li returns to her post behind the counter you gulp down the rest of your tea and lean in. 

“Who’s Kevin?”

“Her 9 year old grandson. I teach him and his younger brother piano on the weekends.”

“Oh, that’s—that’s nice,” you nod coolly. At least, you hope it appears cool. Internally you’re scrambling.

Of course your best friend’s basketball teammate teaches piano to young kids. Of course he helps the elderly tea shop lady with her store. Of course he drinks sweet tea out of blue floral teacups. Of course.

He’s finally ready to go after a third cup. You’re not sure where he’s putting it all, but it seems to be a regular occurrence for him. He takes your glass from you before you can argue about your own ability to do it and walks back over to the counter. Now more than ever you wish you could read lips. He goes around the counter to wash the glass in the farmer’s sink in the back and then stops briefly to say something to Mrs. Li. She says something back with a smile that has his cheeks flaming. He leaves a bill on the counter and comes back mumbling about his tea being too hot when you stare at his face. You’re not sure how true that is given how fast he downed those cups.

When you emerge from the tea shop, the sun is shining from a different angle and the temperature has mellowed out.

“My car is a few blocks that way,” he points in the direction of the parking lot nearby. 

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Even with his soft tone, his voice is firm and you don’t try to fight him on it.

But it’s strange walking with Jaehyun silently. It feels entirely too companionable despite the fact that you don’t even know him. 

“Do you...want to play 20 questions?”

He stops in his tracks, clearly not expecting you to talk without him coaxing you out of your shell. But after the initial shock fades, he nods.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“White,” he says immediately. “What’s your major?”

“Studio art. Do you play other sports?”

“Nah. Is Donghyuck your best friend?”

“Yeah, Hyuck’s my best friend.”

“Is he...protective?”

“Protective? Of what?”

“You, I guess.”

“Hyuck?” You let out a snort because the thought is just hilarious. “On the right day I’m pretty sure he’d sell me to Satan for a fresh order of sweet potato fries.”

“I see,” he purses his lips like he’s in deep thought before returning back to the present moments later. “You get two since I asked two.”

“Do you like it here, now that it’s been a while since you transferred?”

“Yeah,” he looks you in the eyes. “I like it here.”

You swallow a bit too audibly but power through and keep asking questions. It takes nearly half an hour to walk the two and a half blocks leading to the parking lot. Even after that, Jaehyun takes a scenic route back to the main campus. When he pulls up outside your dorm, you’re not sure what to say, but it feels like something should be said. The sun is near setting and he’s haloed by the dying rays as he leans on the steering wheel to make sure you make it inside.

After giving a little awkward nod, you drag yourself out of the cabin of his car. There’s only a few steps left until you reach the door when he calls out. You turn.

“So,” he trails off, drumming his hands on the steering wheel before adjusting the mirror even though he’s in park and no one is coming. “Donghyuck has, like, a million fans.”

“What?”

“I just mean that he’s been on the team for years, he has a fan base. But I’m just a transfer student, so I don’t have that. And, you know, it’s really nice to have someone to cheer for you.” He tests the waters and looks at you hesitantly before continuing. “I still have your poster.”

All you can do is blink as you realize what’s going on. Or, you think you know what’s going on. And it makes zero sense to you, but you have a habit of overthinking things anyway. You kick at a pebble near the toe of your shoe, taking some time to muster up the courage to be presumptuous in a way you’re not used to.

“I can...I can make you another sign. If you want. Or like wear your number.” He grins and in that moment it seems to outshine the fading sun. “So you don’t feel left out.”

“I’d like that.” He starts the car up then, still grinning as he looks down to shift gears and adjust all his mirrors yet again. “Tell Hyuck he doesn’t need to set aside tickets anymore.”

“Okay,” is your witty reply before turning once more with a too warm face.

He waves at your retreating back before putting the car into drive.

Everyone on the team knows that every once in a while Donghyuck likes to come to practice a lot earlier than is probably normal. It’s not strange to come in when there’s 30, 40, even 50 minutes before practice starts and find him practicing footwork or doing layups on the court alone. 

Jaehyun hedges a guess that he’ll find Donghyuck in the gym a good hour before practice starts one day and is pleased to find that his intuition was correct. There’s music blasting from a portable speaker and Donghyuck is doing some of the drills the coach likes to run, but done with his non-dominant hand.

When the ball rolls to a stop and Donghyuck moves to get some water, Jaehyun announces himself.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” 

“You quitting already?”

“Not yet,” Donghyuck takes in the serious set of Jaehyun’s jaw and shoulders. “We can do a 1-on-1. If you’re up for it.”

Jaehyun nods and sheds his outer layers on the sidelines. Donghyck wonders if he’s angry about something, perhaps that about practice a few days ago where he went a little too hard on Jaehyun and bashed his cheek with an elbow during a scrimmage. He braces himself for some incoming aggression, knowing he may deserve it a little.

They settle for leaving the ball on the ground in the paint since the equipment cabinet is still locked until the coach arrives. Both of them sprint from the freethrow line, with Jaehyun grabbing the ball first. Donghyuck moves into defense easily, having been in game mode for who knows how long. Jaehyun isn’t nearly as tough in his offense as Donghyck expected. In fact, he’s playing surprisingly light.

“What’s up with you,” Donghyuck says after the first basket.

Jaehyun catches the ball after it falls from the basket, jogging it back to the starting position. Donghyuck waits for him back at the freethrow line, brows raised but otherwise silent.

“Nothing’s up. Nothing big, I mean.”

“You’re a pretty bad liar.”

The words catch Jaehyun by surprise and he stumbles a bit coming off the line. Donghyuck uses the momentary shock to his advantage and steals the ball. The point comes easy as he basically runs a circle around his competitor.

“Since I won that point, why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

Donghyuck doesn’t bother going back to the freethrow line and instead goes back to dribbling practice. His rhythm is slow with his off hand, but steady. Better than Jaehyun’s with his off hand.

“Do you believe in bro code?”

Donghyuck snorts. “I guess. You’re not gonna ask me for my mom’s phone number, are you?”

“No. Not your mom’s,” Jaehyun trails off.

Instantly Donghyuck knows what this is about. Or who. Your face flashes in his mind and he has to bite his own cheek to keep from laughing. Being your best friend gives him exclusive access to just how awkward you can be. But the fact that Jaehyun resorted to all this buildup is kind of hilarious.

“Aw, you guys are cute.”

“What?” Jaehyun’s cheeks grow pink. “Why is this cute?” 

“Look, you don’t need to ask me first or do whatever this is. I’m not her keeper. And I’m not gonna sabotage you, either.” Jaehyun’s shoulders lose some of their squared off edge.

“Okay,” he nods. “Thanks, man.”

“I could use a favor, though.”

“Oh. What is it?”

“I have a meeting with Coach after practice today. But I also really need to pick something up at the stationery store before tomorrow. Can you go pick it up for me?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Cool. I’ll text you the details later.”

---

Jaehyun arrives at the stationery store with his phone in hand. The note from Donghyuck mentions some special set of paints with a foreign-sounding name. As he walks through the aisles of the little store, Jaehyun wonders who the paints are for. The note also mentioned that they were a gift for someone, but it doesn’t say who the someone is.

It takes a few laps around the store, and by the time he spots the little nook for the brand, the store owner's voice had already sounded through the overhead speakers to say that the shop would be closing soon. He grabs the last box left and quietly rejoices. Donghyuck had bartered your number for the price of running the errand. If Jaehyun could get the paints, then he could get the number. The odd part was that Donghyuck had mentioned something about Jaehyun possibly not even needing to ask him for the number if he played his cards right. Originally he had shrugged the comment off, but it did raise the hairs on the back of his neck a bit. There’s something about Donghyuck that feels akin to a cartoon villain, but Jaehyun can’t put his finger on it.

“Checking out?”

“Yeah,” he hands the shop attendant the container of paints.

The attendant tries to scan the barcode, but a strange sound comes from the machine.

“I think something’s wrong with the barcode. If you can wait right here, I’ll go get another one to scan and give you that one instead.”

“Oh. That was actually the last one left.”

“I see.” The attendant presses some keys on the computer before nodding. “I think we should have a reference code in that backroom. I can go get that and punch it in manually if that’s okay.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, that would be great.”

The attendant assures him it’ll only be a moment before leaving the counter and disappearing into the back of the store. Jaehyun waits patiently while leaning on the counter when the bell to the front door of the shop rings. Another customer has come in right before closing, and the sound of their labored breathing makes it clear that they know they’re cutting it close. The footsteps fade out and then grow louder once more after a few minutes. He takes a glance over his shoulder to see you standing a little bit behind him.

“Oh. Hi. H-hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Jaehyun turns completely and sets his phone on the counter. “What brings you here?”

“I’m just grabbing some paint. I ran out a few days ago and I have some big projects coming up.”

“That’s funny. I’m doing the same thing.”

“Do you paint,” your eyes grow a little bigger with the prospect. At the sight of your small smile, Jaehyun wishes he could paint for the first time ever.

“No, but I’d like to learn.” And it’s never been true before, but he means it in that moment.

“Well, I could—”

“Sorry for the delay,” the shop attendant comes jogging back from the backroom. “Another employee had the reference book, so I had to spend some time to hunt it down. But you should be all set now.”

Jaehyun sends an apologetic smile your way before turning back to finish checking out. Once he’s done, even though he’s on a tight schedule with this favor, he hangs back.

“—I’m sorry but we sold out of the Neo Color Technology paints. If you’d like, we can give you a call when the next shipment comes in, but there’s a two-week wait.”

“Ah, really? Okay.” 

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you think about what you’ll do now. The idea of continuing some of your projects with a new set of paints that could have a completely different set of hues makes you nervous. You just perfected the shade of green you needed at the base for your huge forest study. Now you’d have to start from scratch.

Jaehyun is trying his hardest not to eavesdrop, but the odd paint name catches his attention. It’s the same one he just bought, per Donghyuck’s request.

“You can have mine,” he blurts out. “I’m the one who bought the last ones. But I obviously don’t need them like you do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please, take them.”

Jaehyun hands you the bag. The smile you offer him in return is brilliant.

“I’ll pay you back.”

“God, no. Don’t worry about it.”

“Then, let me buy you a tea or something at least.” You hand him your phone. “Here, put your number in and you can pick a day. I’ll pay.”

So Jaehyun takes your phone and inputs his number. A moment later he gets a text from you, clarifying that it’s you. He feels victorious for a moment and then confused. Here he is, getting your number without having to ask, just like Donghyuck himself had mentioned. He’s getting this number because he gave you, Donghyuck’s friend, some paints. Paints that Donghyuck asked him to buy, as a gift to a mysterious friend. 

Maybe Donghyuck is less like a villain and more like a twisted fairy godmother.  

This little dance you keep doing with Jaehyun is strange, to say the least. 

It felt odd to copy the number 14 onto your cheek for the first time knowing who it would really be for. And it felt weird to get so used to doing it that you can now copy the stencil in with practiced ease using the face paint you bought specifically for the occasion, no longer worrying about accidentally writing it backwards. All the while, you can barely make eye contact with him after a game, although you can practically feel the weight of his gaze when you make a beeline for Donghyuck after the last buzzer rings. And you can see the way his hand tugs at the gold chain around his neck as he approaches you cautiously. And you can hear the disappointment in his tone when he asks if you’re going to the house parties thrown by one of the players that typically follow the games only to hear you say no each time.

Another few weeks later finds you trying to make it through midterms. Donghyuck being a literature major means his midterms schedule is always different from yours. This time his midterms end much earlier, a few days earlier to be exact. You’re left to suffer through late night crunches to finish up paintings for one of your crits. Photoshopping some pieces for your digital art class leaves you so busy you don’t even register what’s going on around you.

“It’s my turn to host the post-game party,” he says after letting himself into your apartment one day. He drops the spare keyring reserved for him in the dish near the front door.

“Mhm.”

“But I feel like it would be a nice change to have it here.” When he makes a big show of dropping the takeout he brought you, you don’t even flinch at the sound of it hitting the table you’ve taken over.

“Sounds good,” is all you say as you try to find the one layer out of the 25 you had that you were looking for.

“Great, so I’ll probably stop by on Friday with stuff before the game to set up and then the team can just come through afterwards.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t hate me,” he places a kiss on the top of your head before wrinkling his nose when he smells your unwashed hair. “And don’t work yourself too hard, either.”

“Yeah...definitely.”

Friday comes by and you’re still working, so you have to skip the actual game itself. In the brief window of free time you had that morning, you wonder if you should text Jaehyun again so you can tell him you won’t be coming or bringing your little hand stenciled 14. But you decide against it. It’s a big game and he doesn’t need to be bogged down by unnecessary texts.

You’re actually away at your first crit when Donghyuck stops by again, this time with party supplies. When you come back, you barely register the mountain of beers and cheap wines sitting in your kitchen. All you want to do is sleep like the dead for a few hours. As you zombie walk to your room, you swear you hear him call to you to ask if he can store his balloons in the sink. With your last two brain cells you figure he must have said something else and you were just too tired to actually comprehend it.

Hours later, bass blaring through the thin walls of your place wakes you from your slumber. The details of your conversation with Donghyuck a few days prior come flooding back just as you pick up your pepper spray to drive out what you thought were home intruders. You leave your weapon behind and open your door just slightly. The music washes over you, louder now that the seal to your bedroom has been broken. 

There’s plenty of voices coming outside that accompany the music. Even a few errant screams make it inside and to your ears. Courtesy of Chenle, no doubt. A few more brave steps outside your room and a glance out of the hallway window lets you know that you didn’t mishear Donghyuck. You see several of the guys chucking water balloons at one another on the grass outside. The pile of little teardrop-shaped balloons is admirably large and it becomes clear that they’ll be doing this for a while.

You’re not in the mood to get soaked or get mosquito bites just so you can seem friendly. After all, the party is being hosted in your apartment complex. That’s friendly enough, you reason. Once you’ve done a quick sweep through the rest of the apartment to make sure nothing is stolen, stained, or broken, you return to your room to get ready for bed properly. It takes a while because you have to wash your hair on top of everything else after receiving a very strongly worded text from Donghyuck.

While in your bathroom, brushing your teeth and watching a video Taeyong sent you, there’s jumbled knocking on your door. Barely any time passes between the last knock and the creak of someone leaning on your door as they open it. You curse to yourself before spitting in the sink.

“Hey, the bathroom for guests is actually—”

Jaehyun stands in the middle of your room, squinting at the tapestry you have hanging over your bed. The sound of his teeth chattering despite it being the peak of Spring is actually alarming enough to stop you from being mad that Donghuck didn’t think to put a clear sign towards the bathroom for the general public.

“I always thought your room would have candles in it,” Jaehyun drawls. He looks around once more like he’s hoping a candle will jump out of a hiding spot. All his movements are slow and sleepy.

“Are you drunk?”

He grins with eyes that droop closed. “Yep.” 

“Great,” you mumble. When you take a step closer you realize the dark red sleeveless tank he’s wearing is actually dark from being saturated with water. “Why are you wet?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. We played water balloon tag. I lost the last round.”

Jaehyun places a clumsy finger to his lips and stage-whispers a loud “shh”. For some reason you mirror that back to him. He nods, satisfied with your reaction.

“Don’t tell the others, but I...” he hiccups “I got cold, so I came inside.”

“What’s wrong with telling them you’re cold.” He hangs his head in shame then. Clearly you’re missing something important.

“Hyuck says bad bitches never get cold.”

With his shoulders slumped forward in such a pitiful fashion, you actually feel bad for wanting to laugh. It’s surprising. Super surprising actually, considering Jaehyun’s presence in your room means Donghyuck forgot to do the one thing you ask of him when he hosts parties at your place—put clear signs for drunk people to follow to the guest bathroom. You usually don’t want to deal with drunk student athletes, but something about Jaehyun makes him exempt from that.

“You can warm up here.”

As soon as you say the words, you cringe. It sounds like the awful beginnings of a bad porno, but your intentions really are pure. There’s something too sad about watching him nearly doze off while standing up like a newborn colt. So you go and find the best hoodie that you have in your clean laundry and you risk going to the kitchen and getting hit with a runaway water balloon so you can put water on for tea. Hopefully it will warm him up while also sobering him up a little.

“Is this Hyuck’s shirt,” he asks as soon as you return with a steaming mug.

“Uh, I think so.” You take a moment to appraise the hoodie. “Yeah, it’s his. It’s from one of his basketball camps from when we were younger, I think.”

He purses his lips but gratefully takes the mug with swaying hands. After taking a large sip, he hums and lets his head loll back with a smile.

“This is Mrs. Li’s blend.”

“Yeah.” 

It doesn’t seem right to tell him that you’ve been back there a couple times now and have started trying to get into tea. You take the time to put some distance between him and you. You walk to your bed and fluff a pillow that doesn’t need fluffing. The thing is that Jaehyun being in your room feels...weird. He looks all too content and comfortable in the space. That’s not to say he doesn’t suit the environment well. Somehow he looks like he belongs in your room with his soaked tank top and damp hair. You fluff the pillow harder.

“You must be tired,” he says after a long silence. He’s finished his tea but his eyes are still glassy.

“What?”

“Donghyuck told me ‘bout all your projects. Told me you had to draw him for one.”

“Oh, yeah I did. People actually loved that piece the most. But it took me the shortest amount of time.”

“Next time,” he begins ambling across the room, coming to place the empty mug on your bedside table. “Next time, you can ask me to model. If you want.”

“I mean, I only asked Hyuck since he was watching TV and he was there. Plus I know his face so well that it doesn’t even matter if he talks while I paint. The company is kind of nice.”

“Well, you can do it with me next.”

He’s drunk, you remind yourself. He doesn’t realize how strange what he’s saying is. And yet, your face still heats up. The sound of his teeth chattering lightly again reminds you how he got to be in your room in the first place. Jaehyun hugs himself as he continues to check out your room with a small smile on his face. He looks content.

“Do you want to get in,” you offer before your brain can process what your mouth has just done. His eyes go wide.

“Excuse me?” 

“Not—I mean, you just...look really cold and tired. Plus I heard you guys lost the game tonight, so the coach had you hauling ass after.” At the sight of his mildly amused face, tongue nudged between his teeth you add, “I don’t mean you should stay the night. It could just be for a bit and then you could, like, get up and call a cab home. But I get it if you’d rather not. Actually, I can just go see if Hyuck is around. I think he brought his—”

“No, no, stay,” he replies quickly to keep you from jumping out of bed. “I could use the rest.”

He turns around to shrug off the wet tank and pull on the hoodie, mumbling something about ‘not wanting to get your sheets wet’. Internally you wonder if you’re being laughed at by the gods while staring politely at nothing in the other corner of the room. You scoot over from your position in the middle of the bed to the side opposite him. He rewards your kindness with a flash of a bright smile before moving to pull back the covers.

His face lands directly in one of your pillows and you panic when you realize your sheets aren’t fresh out the washer. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind and lets out a sigh before shivering a little. With the hood over his hair, you can barely make out his eyes but you can tell they’re trained on you.

“You sure this is okay,” he whispers. 

“Yeah.”

The bed shifts minutely as he turns a little to get more comfortable. It feels hot in the bed all of the sudden. Despite the fact that you have on weather appropriate pajamas and your most lightweight Spring bedding on. Despite the fact that you’re not laying close enough to him to be able to feel any body heat. Maybe it’s warmer outside than you thought. That’s probably it.

---

When you wake up several hours later, it’s to the sound of clanking in your living room. The other side of the bed is empty and you try not to read into it. It wasn’t supposed to be a full night over, after all. You swing your feet over the edge of the bed only to squeal when your foot hits something cold in the little rug you keep there.

“What is it!” Donghyuck crashes into the room while holding the trash bag he was collecting loose beer cans with. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—oh.”

You look down at the rug and see something shiny and metallic as opposed to something wet and slimy. With your index finger and thumb, you pick up a medium length golden chain. It shines even in the low lighting of your bedroom. You both squint at the jewelry, trying to place it.

Donghyuck’s eye grow wide and he looks around the room in disgust suddenly.

“Was he in here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you grumble as you rub your eyes.

“What for?”

When Donghyuck raises an inquisitive eyebrow, your mouth drops open.

“We just slept—”

“You slept together?”

“Hyuck, not like that! What’s your problem?”

“Still, why is he sleeping in here? You never have guys sleep in here.”

“You sleep in here all the time,” you point a finger at him.

“True,” he cedes immediately, pointing a finger back. “Well, you better return that. I think it’s his lucky charm or something.”

“Can’t you do it?” He laughs before returning to the living room. 

“He didn’t leave it in my bed.” 

“I–fine. I don’t need your help anyway.” 

At that, he snorts.

“You do, but I’ll let you keep thinking that you don’t, because I’m a good friend.”

“You’re annoying, that’s what you are.”

You pull on a sweater before coming out of your room with your phone in hand. There’s a companionable silence that falls over you two as you attempt to draft a text to Jaehyun about his chain while Donghyuck picks up the remaining trash from the party.

“How’d everything go,” you ask once the message is sent.

“It was fine. Jae was so gone that we thought he had flushed himself down the toilet for a while. But I guess that’s not what happened.”

Your face heats up at the teasing tone he uses.

“Hyuck, I have something to tell you.”

“God, what? Are you pregnant?”

“No! What the hell? Are you?” You try to swipe at his butt from the back of the couch.

“No! But...can you just say what you’re gonna say? You’re making me nervous.”

He even goes so far as to put the trash down and come around to sit with you on the sofa. You take a deep breath.

“I have a crush on Jaehyun. I just thought you should know.”

He stares at you, not blinking for a few seconds. He opens his mouth and then shakes his head to himself and closes it again.

“I see,” he finally says.

“It’s been going on a while, and I didn’t want to leave you in the dark.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Nope! I don’t mind being in the shadows. I do some of my best work there.”

“Do you think it could go anywhere?”

“What do you mean,” he throws another can into his bag.

“Like, do you think I have a chance with him?”

Donghyuck turns to stare at you, deadpan. “Do I think you have a chance with Jung Jaehyun? The man who slept in your bed a few hours ago?”

“Yeah.” Your face is completely open and imploring.

He sighs, “I think you might have a shot, sure.”

“Why, though?”

“I don’t know. Just a hunch.”

The next game of the season is a big one. The team coming in to play is an old school rival, so it draws a crowd that contains even the less sport-inclined students. You manage to get a ticket set away, but it’s still tough trying to find a spot to sit. It’s first come first serve with seats since the gym isn’t big enough to have labeled arena seating. 

Initially you had planned to use the extra time you had before the start to return Jaehyun’s chain, but it took you so long to make it from the parking lot to the gym and then to an open seat that there wasn’t any time left. Somewhere in between, you nearly get knocked over by the heavy current of fans from both teams flooding the space. The chain, once clutched in your hand, ends up around your neck out of fear that you lose it permanently.

You end up in the nosebleeds for the rest of the time. The players look like ants and if it weren’t for the large printed numbers on their jerseys, you might not be able to tell all of them apart. You text Donghyuck your location, and you see him looking towards the back rows at the beginning of the game, but he has to stay focused. You try your hardest to focus as well. At this point, you’re just about fluent in the sport that is basketball. But tonight’s game is hard to follow despite this. Jaehyun grabs your attention instead. He plays especially rough tonight, you note. He pushes hard across the court, even gets a couple warnings for defending like he’s on offense. There’s a fair amount of goals with his name on them as well. It’s exciting and you just wish your cheers could reach him.

More annoyance comes when the game finally ends. It’s a last minute shot by one of the other players who walked on this season that tips the game in your school’s favor. The crowd is deafening, even the ending buzzer is muted by their shouts. The bleachers shake under you with the force of fans running to meet their favorite players and generally gloat in front of the other team on the court. The shaking underneath you is terrifying enough to keep you seated until things have died down. There’s still probably a minimum of hundred people gathered on the floor, but you can at least step over empty concession bags as opposed to being stepped on by the supportive members of the hockey team.

It takes forever to find a single person you know. Of course it’s Donghyuck, who is in the middle of talking with some friends from off the team.

“Hyuck,” you begin to run over. When he sees you, you give him a big smile.

“No,” he responds simply as you get closer.

You slow down and let confusion wrinkle your brow. He offers no further verbal explanation but does give you a swift head nod in another direction. You follow the gesture and find Jaehyun at the end of the path. He looks a bit lost despite being with Doyoung and Johnny.

The fact that the others are there makes you freeze up at first, but the feeling of the chain laying delicately on your clavicle reminds you of what you need to do. Luckily, he sees you before the others do and he steps aside under the guise of getting a fresh towel. He waits for you to catch up once he’s out of their line of sight.

His voice is low, like he’s worried being too loud will make you change your mind about talking with him. But there’s an undercurrent of sincere happiness.

“There you are.”

“I was at the top row. I got here too late to sit where I normally do.”

“Ah. I thought maybe you couldn’t make it.”

“There’s no way I would be able to miss this one. Hyuck threatened to shave my head if I did.”

“That...sounds like him.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. The nerves are getting to you a bit. You’ve never confessed your feelings to anyone before, and you’re not sure if Donghyuck was right about you having a shot.

“So, what are you doing—”

“I’ve been meaning to tell—”

You both start talking at once and then immediately clam up when you interrupt each other. 

He gives the floor to you. “You go first.”

“Okay.” 

You reach for the back of your neck and watch as his gaze follows the movement of your hands only for his eyes to light up in recognition.

“I wondered where that thing went.”

“You left it at my place. I put it on because I was scared I’d lose it for real. Sorry.”

He reaches out casually to thumb at the chain around your neck. “Don’t be. It looks good on you.”

“It looks better on you.”

The chain slides off cool against your skin and your fingers shake as you carry the chain over to him. Wordlessly, you reach up and loop your arms around his neck to reunite the chain with its rightful owner. Sweaty palms make it difficult to redo the clasp without being able to see it. It puts you right in his personal space for an awkwardly long time.

“I’m really sweaty,” he whispers.

“Uh, that’s nice?”

He laughs and it puffs off your temple.

“I don’t want to get you dirty, but I really want to kiss you right now.” The clasp finally snaps into place

“Oh.”

The way he leans in, the way his arms come to cage around your waist, the drip of the sweat from his temple down the hinge of his jaw. All of it is slow. As if to give you the space to withdraw if you wanted. But you surge forward into him. And for once it’s not awkward. You don’t know how long you stand there necking like hormonal high schoolers in a sea of people on the gym floor at a school dance, but—just like at the school dance—someone is bursting the gossamer thin ambiance just when Jaehyun’s fingers graze the back pocket of your jeans.

“If you look to your left, boys and girls, you can see two local horndogs engaged in a seasonal ritual” He karate chops a hand down the space between your faces, cutting the kiss off abruptly and nearly bruising Jaehyun’s nose. Meanwhile Taeyong snickers loudly from behind Doyoung.

“Do you have a death wish,” you turn to him with fire in your eyes. He backs up slightly, but attempts to stand his ground.

“Do you know how hard I’ve been working to set you two up?”

“What are you talking about?”

You turn to Jaehyun, who looks just as confused. The gears turning in your heads are practically visible as you and he put 2 and 2 together slowly. The random lies, the weird errands, the sudden party. The blank stares from Donghyuck every time the two of you were in the same room but refused to talk. It all adds up.

“You owe me sweet potato fries for the rest of your life. Maybe longer, I’m not sure yet.”

Donghyuck puts his arms around you and Jaehyun, pulling you with him as he heads out of the gym and towards the exit that leads toward the cafeteria.

“I can’t believe you...puppet-mastered us,” Jaehyun’s voice is airy with disbelief.

“I can’t believe you guys didn’t realize what was going on,” Taeyong snickers on the walk over. Doyoung snorts while lacing their fingers together.

“Yeah, the whole team was in on it.”

“You guys are one to talk.” Donghyuck turns back to give the two boys a humbling once over. “Don’t get me started on how hard it was to get you two losers together.”

Doyoung stops in his tracks, nearly tripping Taeyong in the process. 

“What?”

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Paintings & Picture frames. [Pt.5]

Daryl Dixon x Reader [Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.6] [Pt.7]

Daryl parked his bike in front of the coffee shop and checked his phone, seeing you replied with your order and walked in. Luckily the shop was pretty quiet, he thought to himself. There were only a handful of people, either waiting for their order or had their face stuffed in books and laptops with cofffee cups stacked on their table, showing how long they had been working already and looking nowhere near done as the server walked by and handed them their latest order. He never liked shops like these and had to make sure that if the two of you were going to spend time together more often, he’d have you brew a pot of coffee at home and make something nice of it together. But then again, since you’d met he’d been doing multiple things he’d disliked only because of how he thought people would respond to him and built this distaste for it all in advance. While now, in hindsight it all wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. No one really knew who he was, and the ones who did only glanced his way with a nasty look but left him alone in the end.

He placed the order and waited for it to be done, being cautious not to use his last name for the order and placing them under ‘Green’. He happily walked out of the door, not realizing he now had to get himself and two coffees over to your place on his bike. He put the coffees in the bags on his bike, carefully stuffed between a jacket and other junk he never bothered to get out, making sure the bag lid shut flush over the cups. It was only a few minutes to your place, even while driving slow and extremely careful, making sure the coffees would survive the trip. Making it to your place in one piece, Daryl grabbed the drinks and his school bag and rang your doorbell with his elbow. An excited ‘Hey’ sounded thought the speaker and the buzzer went off, opening the door with a click. Daryl walked around, following the directions you texted him earlier and ending up at your front door that you had already opened for him.

“Hey again.” You said, now pretty nervous having him in your living space for real now. He walked through the door, closing it with his foot and put the two cups down on the first flat surface that he found. “I ain’t never buyin’ coffee on the way again. Did not think of this.” He said with a sigh and a smile. “What?” You exclaimed pretending to be shocked. “You got everything here in one piece, including yourself so I’d say you did amazing.” You complimented and thanked him for going through the trouble. “So, coffee first and then work?”

Sitting down on your couch with your drink and trying to push away your nerves, you looked at Daryl who was still standing where he had left his cup. “Or do you wanna start working right away?” Daryl looked back at you, trying to uncover what you just asked him while he was clearly not paying attention. Taking notice of his questioning look you repeated your question, sipping your coffee. “Yeah.” He still had no clue what to answer or what the right answer would even sound like. “Coffee first.” Was the loudest answer in his head when he looked in the direction of the cup. He grabbed it and made his way over to the couch, internally trying to decide which seat was the one to take. You saw the struggle and moved over completely to one side to give him the space he seemed to need, motioning to a seat, hoping it would make he decision for him. Daryl quickly reacted to your invite and sat down where you motioned towards, on the other end of the couch while leaving enough space between the two of you.

If he was gonna be honest, he felt like running off already. He had no clue how to be in someone else’s living space. Normally if he’d meet with someone it’d be on neutral grounds since there was no way in hell he’d ever let anyone into his household and because of that he was too scared to enter someone else’s family home. He knew it was going to be only you here in this place and he had met up with you and was kind of left alone with you at the diner before this so he did have some kind of first step towards this but it was still scary. “So, you said you were in town for work. I didn’t know you worked close by.” You broke the awkward silence and hoped Daryl would relax a bit if he could talk about stuff. He swirled the last bits of now almost cold coffee in his cup and looked down at the table in front of him. “Yeah I was. Workin’ at the garage in town. Had some bike parts to replace, tryin’ ta find a way to have enough space for someone to ride with me.” Of course your mind immediately imagined what it’d be like to go on a ride with him, but you also remembered that you were scared to hell and back to ride with anyone after falling multiple times and your sister always scaring you for fun back when you were a little kid. I wasn’t your best reply, but you went with it. “I’m too scared to ride with people these days. My sister teased me so much I just stopped accepting them from anyone. My mom and I also made a pretty ugly fall when I was little.” It felt kind of stupid telling him about your childish fear if you were being honest, but you felt another idea pop up. “Maybe, when you get your bike seat fixed, I can go on a ride with you? Try to get me over my fear?” You were just wondering out loud, not sure where to go with it just yet. Daryl questioned where the suggestion came from. If you were really that scared, and that wasn’t something people would simply lie about, why would you trust someone you barely know enough to ask them to ride with you? He couldn’t deny he had thought of you when the head mechanic asked why he was customizing his bike like that. But he wasn’t going to admit that now.

[trees-and-a-blue-sky]

quick addition to prev. (kamui blues au)

---------

“I just don’t think Sora-san seems like someone of the type you describe her as,” Obito said with a shrug. “She is not scared of me and I am the bigger monster between us.” Obito threw a look to Kakashi who raised a brow as if to say “Nobody in here is a monster.” 

Yamato shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know what Obito and Sora talked about in their sessions, of course that was all confidential, but maybe she just liked him more. After all, Obito didn’t have two odd eyes and a third one hidden under his hair. Obito was normal, well fairly normal.

A loud “thumb” could be heard from the side of the Hokage desk. Rin sighed loud, now back on her feet after she had been sitting on the table top. She’d grown quite some in the last months, finally hitting puberty for real, over ten years after she died. She waved dismissively with a hand into the round of men standing in front of her.

“I am technically older than all of you,” Rin said with an eye roll “and though I don’t know you as well..:” She pointed at Yamato, “..as 5 years your senior I think you should absolutely listen to my old woman advice.”

Obito groaned: “You’re not really older now, Rin,” but she ignored him. 

“Yamato-san”, Rin said and went on her tiptoes to look directly into his starry eyes. “Sora-san, Doctor Sarutobi, that woman- “ Pause. “She has a thing for you.”

Yamato stared at the old young girl and said nothing but: “I don’t think-”

“These guys,” Rin waved her hand at Obito and Kakashi behind her, “of course have no clue what a woman thinks, because they have as much understanding for people's feelings as potted plants do-” Obito said: “Hey!” but Kakashi nodded, which amused Yamato greatly. “But I have the session right before yours every week and I can tell you by the way she looks at the clock in my last five mintues that she clearly has a crush on you.”

“She always cries after our session ends. Always. I’m pretty sure I disgust her”, Yamato shrugged his shoulders and tried to ignore the way his inside had clenched when Rin had used the word “crush”.

Rin rolled her eyes again, her face eerily similar to the face Naruto used to make when Yamato had tried to give him orders. Teenage rebellion at its finest. “Yes, surely, a woman’s tears can famously only mean one thing. But she didn’t stop seeing you did she? If she is so disgusted by you, why would she even invite you back?”

“Because Kakashi asked her to look after me,” Yamato said straight back like he had just thought of the perfect argument. Had this been on his mind a lot in the last few months? Yes, it had and he was glad he could say it out loud. 

Rin made a buzzer sound and crossed her arms in front of her chest like a big x. “Wrong.” Then, while poking into Yamato’s lower belly she asked: “Did you never have an intimate moment with each other? In all these months?”

“Intimate- no, no, I would not-” Yamato stammered.

“What do you think grown ups do in therapy, Rin?” Obito said from the back, emphasising on “grown ups.”

“Rin I wouldn’t accept such a thing”, Kakashi said calmly.

She snorted: “I don’t mind that. I meant something else. A hug. A touch. Maybe an arm over the shoulder for support. Something that is intimate.”

Yamato immediately thought of the time Sora had taken his hand into his, when he had without thinking put his fingers in between hers. How soft they had been. How they’d looked into each other’s eyes without looking away. He blushed and Rin said loudly: “Ha!”

“We held hands” Yamato said and then corrected to, “Sarutobi- san supported me by holding my hand and when she did I held hers.” He felt his neck burn hot. “But she took her hand away immediately and sent me home so clearly she was disgusted by it, right?”

Rin tapped her foot impatiently: “No. That- literally nobody but you is thinking that, you idiot.”

He felt a little dizzy. He looked up at the other two men in the room and knew his eyes were pleading for support. But that support was not given back to him. Obito had his brows under his black hair: “Yeah, that seems pretty obvious to me.”

Yamato looked at Kakashi, his senpai wouldn’t let him down, right? “Senpai, do you think…?”

“Yeah, Tenzou. I also think you are an idiot.”

[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (6/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5]

Pretending things hadn't changed might've been the dumbest thing Clarke had ever agreed to do. When Lexa dropped in the following days, sometimes in the morning and other times in the afternoon, Clarke knew there was no going back to whatever their normal had been.

This was the woman she'd shared a vision with - that didn't go away after one rushed conversation. But Lexa seemed to choose the busiest moments and Clarke couldn't exactly leave Gaia and Harper to manage the orders so she could pick Lexa Woods' brain.

It was the doodles she thought about the most. Lexa had mentioned seeing some framed, but Clarke didn't have anything like that at her place. She had sketches and portraits from college lying around in closets and pressed between the pages of the books on her coffee table, but that was it. The only piece she'd framed had been a charcoal landscape her dad had liked and specifically requested for his birthday. Clarke didn't frame any of her art, let alone doodles. Those were for her own piece of mind; a way to entertain herself when all the coffee machines were cleaned, all their customers were happy, and the phone was quiet.

So what could she have possibly scribbled that would be worth framing? And how far in the future could it be?

Clarke was pondering the very question while she went through stock in the back of the café. It was a small, cramped room with her desk in a corner, but it was tidy and, most importantly, it was quiet. Until people bust in announced, that was.

"Hey!"

Clarke clutched her heart. "Raven, oh my God! Why do you hate knocking so much?"

Raven laughed. "Because then I miss that look on your face."

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"It's 6:30pm and you didn't answer my text about the party."

"It is?" Clarke glanced at her watch. "Fuck." She focused back on Raven and vaguely remembered the email she'd gotten earlier this week. Octavia and Lincoln were having a housewarming party tonight and had invited her. Clarke knew she'd clicked on it but the café had gotten a call at the same time and she'd forgotten about it after. She didn't know Octavia or Lincoln beyond meeting them once, so she was fairly certain they'd invited her on Raven's request.

"I forgot. I'm not going," she decided.

"It was rhetorical, grandma!" Raven exclaimed. "Wells and I are stopping by his parents for a bite and then we're picking you up. It starts at nine."

Clarke shook her head. "I barely know these people."

Raven paused. "You know what? I'm not doing this again. You don't want to go, that's fine."

"Raven."

"No, I'm serious. I'm not responsible for your social life anymore. I quit."

Clarke crossed her arms. "For someone who works in a theater you're a really shitty actress."

Raven narrowed her eyes at her. Clarke held her gaze before huffing and throwing her hands up. "Fine. I'll go."

Raven smirked. "Pick you up at 8:45. Oh and I'm pretty sure Lexa will be there. Bye!"

"What? Raven!"

Clarke was in a grumpy mood that entire evening, pulling clothes out of her closet and putting them back in for a good thirty minutes before she settled on what to wear. She didn't get like this. She knew what worked on her body and what made her look like a potato sack barely stitched together. This wasn't a date or even an intimate get-together. It was going to be an apartment packed with new faces and most likely very little room to walk around, let alone take in what people were wearing beyond blotches of fabric and color. With that in mind, she stuck to a navy blue dress and a sweater, having spotted some angry clouds on her way home. She grabbed her coat when Raven called to tell her they were waiting in their car, and was out the door after taking a deep breath.

There was absolutely no reason to be nervous.

* * *

Octavia and Lincoln's apartment in the Green Strip was on the highest floor of their building, a spacious three bedroom with earthy tones and wooden furniture. There was something immediately welcoming about it when Clarke stepped inside behind Wells and Raven, smiling at Octavia when they were all greeted with a hug.

"You made it," Octavia beamed, soon ushering them into another room where they could put their coats.  

They were directed to the living room, a wide open floor plan with the kitchen on one side. Tall windows opened to a balcony, still empty from what Clarke could see. The room was already buzzing with at least twenty people, some that Clarke recognized from the night at Barton, others not at all. She could see why Octavia and Lincoln would want to show off the place - it was perfect for entertaining.

"See Wells, this is a couple's place, not your den beneath the ground," Raven elbowed him playfully.

"You like my den. You moved into my den," Wells reminded her.

"Only because you're freakishly clean and it always smells like apple pie."

Octavia laughed. "Trust me, you have it good. It took Linc' and I forever to settle on a place together."

"Is it pure coincidence you're this far from the Polis Hotel?" Raven asked jokingly.

Lincoln rubbed the back of his head with a smile. "I appreciate my heritage, but some distance from it never hurts. Besides, this is close to Octavia's work and I can write anywhere."

Octavia gave his arm a gentle squeeze, their eyes locking while Raven fussed with the collar of Wells' shirt. Clarke was used to it by now - feeling like the third or fifth wheel, that was - but it didn't prevent her heart from sinking a little bit. The front door buzzer seemed like her saving grace from the display of domestic bliss. 

"Please, feel free to grab a beer, wine, chips - we've got it all!" Octavia told them before darting away.

Raven grabbed Clarke's arm. "Let's leave the men to find common ground," she said, giving Wells a subtle wink before ushering Clarke toward the drinks set up in the kitchen.

"What was that about?" Clarke asked.

"Wells thinks Lincoln is going to be the next playwright superstar. He's crushing hard."

"He hasn't even seen his play yet."

Raven poured herself a glass of red. "Octavia sent us a copy of the script after I told her about his birthday gift. Wells practically peed himself when he opened the email."

"Cute."

"You know him, he only read the first ten pages to preserve the theatergoing experience."

They shared a knowing look and laughed. "Nerd," they both said affectionately.

Raven glanced over Clarke’s shoulder and then smiled widely. "Speaking of nerds, yours seems to be having a ball."

Clarke turned around in confusion. When two people moved, she caught a glimpse of Lexa in a plaid shirt sitting on a couch alone, head down while she typed something on her phone.

"Definitely not mine," Clarke muttered while grabbing a beer on the table.

"What do you think is her deal?" Raven asked. 

"I don't know. It's none of my business."

Lexa had shown at the Polis Hotel she could be the center of attention if she wanted, so Clarke had given up on guessing. 

Raven arched a brow. "You want it to be, don't you?"

"I'm not going to pine over someone who isn't sure if they want me or not."

Raven took her shoulders and turned her around to face the room. "Good thing there's other eligible people here. And we're talking crew; that's carpenters and painters and electricians - plenty of talented, rough hands to make your dreams come true."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "I should've never told you."

"You started a business from the ground up. I know you have it in you to charm the pants and skirts off of everyone here."

"Raven. I don't want..."

"What? What do you want, Clarke?"

Unsure how to even start answering, Clarke took a sip of her beer and shook her head. "Forget it. Let's just have a good time."

Raven squeezed her shoulder. "Let me make sure my boyfriend hasn't started sweating his ass off."

"You really make him sound so lovely."

Raven laughed. "Yep, and he's all mine!"

* * *

No one started a business without some talent in schmoozing. Raven was right about that. But it was one thing to be driven by passion and another to be driven by... well, Clarke wasn't entirely sure. She knew her dry spell wasn't sustainable, as evidenced by how tense she felt most of the time, but the end of her casual relationship with Niylah hadn't been for no reason either. Casual wasn't what she wanted anymore.

So tonight she'd learned some names and talked about her café, laughed at jokes and listened to stories, a lot of them about the visions, still the go-to topic that could last for hours. But inevitably Clarke knew she'd be asked about hers, which was why she discreetly excused herself from a group before it could come to that.

She was sipping on her second beer when the person whose gaze she'd carefully avoided all night approached her.  

"Hello."

Clarke turned from her spot by the wall, her grip on her beer tightening. "This is a surprise. I thought you were hiding in some other room."

Lexa shrugged. "Stay too long in one spot and someone is bound to notice you. Theater people can be… enthusiastic after one too many drinks."

"Something tells me it's not just theater people you keep at arm's length."

Clarke saw something flash on Lexa's face, almost like hurt. It was true though - Clarke had never seen Lexa with a friend. She'd always come to the shop alone; sat alone; worked alone. She'd never been around with a colleague either on her lunch breaks, which told Clarke she possibly kept her life carefully split. Clearly she hung out with her cousin and his entourage, but didn't she have a Wells or Raven in her own life? 

"Well, I'm here now. I was hoping we could get to know each other," Lexa said.

Clarke looked away with a curt laugh. "You don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

"Feel obliged to talk to me because you go to my coffee shop. We don't need to make weird small talk because we're at the same party."

"That's a bit harsh."

Clarke's head snapped toward her. "Harsh?"

"'Weird small-talk' - is that what we do?" Lexa asked.

"I think you made it pretty clear there is no we."

"Lex!" Octavia called out, prompting her to turn around.

Octavia walked toward her with one of the houseguests, an older man with salt and pepper hair.

"This is Semet. We were just talking about his vision- I think you want to hear him out."

He smiled at her. "Octavia told me you were compiling stories?"

Clarke felt she was the odd one out and slipped away.

"Oh uh, yes, I am," Lexa told him, briefly looking over her shoulder before she extended her hand. "I'm Lexa."

Clarke didn't hear the rest, but as she saw the various groups of people talking, she felt out of place. Even Wells and Raven were deep in conversation with another couple, his hand casually resting on her waist.  

The party was nice, and Lincoln and Octavia couldn't have been more welcoming. They clearly kept good company and, in any other situation, Clarke might've been more comfortable easing her way into another conversation. As it was, she realized just how unsociable she'd been in the past year and habits died hard.

Feeling unsettled, she sneaked out the open front door for a breather. Raven's words after Barton came back to her - the deliberate choices she'd made to stay home instead of going out. She'd kept her distances and now it was no surprise she felt so rusty. Nothing had really changed aside from the café's opening. The change in lifestyle had been a shock, but Wells had worked just as hard as her - if not more, especially on their bakes - and had still managed to find a balance in his life. She'd never really asked him about it, assuming it was simply in his DNA to be absolutely brilliant at everything.

But Clarke wasn't horrible at managing her time either. It wouldn't be that difficult to have a life outside of her business, she could admit that much. She just hadn't put in the work and now it showed. 

Dipping her toe back in the dating pool felt daunting. She'd never tried dating apps and couldn't imagine putting her energy into that. Harper was on three different ones and from the chats she'd overheard with Gaia, it always seemed like an endless struggle of deciding what was appropriate and what wasn't. 

Clutching her beer close, Clarke spotted a stairwell at her right and decided to try her luck. She made her way up and stepped out to the rooftop. There was an area with planter boxes and some chairs, which Clarke figured had to be communal. It was a pretty relaxing setup and she was sure summer saw a lot of tenants up here, but the promise of rain and the chilly wind tonight left it empty.

Unperturbed, Clarke walked to the area and stood by the tall parapet, resting her forearms on it. She took deep, calming breaths as she looked over the residential streets of Costial, the city she'd called home for ten years now. She could barely make out the mountain chain in the distance, but she knew it was there, majestic as ever surrounded by the sprawling forest. She briefly thought about the Mountain Men and how they'd survived for a century beneath the ground. What it must've felt like to see the same people every day, to never meet a stranger, or to never feel the sun on their faces.

"So maybe you don't like small-talk with anyone."

Clarke didn't need to turn around to know that voice by now. "I just needed some air for a few minutes."

Lexa leaned against the parapet next to her, though with a good three feet between them.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I was thinking about the Mountain Men actually. How abandoned they must've felt."

Lexa looked toward the horizon, where the mountains hid in the night. "They were forgotten, but I don't think they dwelled on it. You'd be surprised how many good stories I had to leave out to fit my report. Memories about times where their parents and their grandparents laughed, kissed each other, and danced together. People are resilient no matter the cards they're dealt. They made lives for themselves - different from ours, but who's to say they were any less fulfilling?"

Clarke turned to her, not knowing what to say for a moment. It didn’t escape her that Lexa seemed to genuinely want to engage with her. 

"It must've been fascinating to listen to them."

"It was. Opening the channels of communication took time, but I went into journalism for these stories."

"Have they had visions?" Clarke asked, curious.

Lexa shook her head before taking a sip of her own beer. "I didn't ask. It wasn't appropriate at the time and looking back I know it would've made them uncomfortable. They're very… spiritual. Connected to the world in a way we could never be. I'm sure their insight would be fascinating, but some lines shouldn't be crossed."

Clarke lifted her bottle. "I'll drink to that."

Lexa smiled back, drinking another sip of her own.

"So did Semet say anything that throws a wrench in your theories?" Clarke wondered.

Lexa chuckled and looked over at the city again. "He gave me his number to talk further, but he did mention he wasn't in it. Only saw his brother."

Clarke's eyebrows rose. "His brother?"

"Hm-mm. That got my attention too. I don't think I've ever heard about someone not being in their own vision."

"Seems like we still have new things to learn."

Lexa considered her next words carefully. "Writing about people's visions has been… the most gratifying experience of my career. It's pushed me to think differently and it's changed the way I work."

Clarke could tell it wasn't easy for Lexa to talk about it. Not her work, but the way it made her feel. Maybe it was just a morsel, but she was opening up and it was more than Clarke had ever heard from her.

"I haven’t drawn any conclusions and I probably don't know any more than a blogger or someone's Twitter thread," Lexa continued with a small shrug. "But there's still a part of me that questions the degree of influence. I've heard too many stories about people being changed to their core to not be slightly wary."

Clarke frowned: "You don't think they're a positive thing?"

"I told you about the woman who left her husband because of a vision. Do you think he'd see her vision as a positive? I wouldn't say they're either/or, but the repercussions aren't negligible."

"Leaving him was her interpretation of it, though. We can't know for sure that's what the vision meant."

Lexa nodded. "You're right. It'll always be up to the person who has it."

Clarke cleared her throat. "You and I - we had the same one. I had the during, you had the after. Has that ever happened?"

Lexa tilted her head to the side. "Not that I've heard of, but it might not have been…" she trailed off, tongue-tied.

"What? The same time?"

"Hm."

Clarke laughed before taking another sip of her beer. "Alright then."

Lexa looked away with a growing smile. "You're the one who brought up interpretation."

"Uh-huh. If that's what you want to tell yourself."

It was flirting plain and simple and Clarke was very aware they both knew it. She'd missed it - that flutter in the pit of her stomach when flirting with someone. The first steps around each other; testing the waters; knowing the attraction had to be mutual by now. This was a game she could play. 

"Twice," Clarke hummed. "That's very presumptuous of you."

"I'm just taking the facts at face value. There's no clear indication of a timeline and-"

"Do you know I'm not even sure it was you?" Clarke interrupted.

Lexa narrowed her eyes. "You said it was."

"I guessed. Messy brown hair, slim but fit - could be anyone."

Lexa pushed off from the parapet, stepping closer. "I don't believe you."

Clarke stood her ground, feeling a throb of desire. When Lexa was intense like this, she had no doubts it'd been her. But then there was that other side of her - distant, impenetrable - and the clear image in her mind shifted into a blur again.

"Why not? Does it upset you that it might be someone else?" Clarke asked, challenging.

"You wouldn't have told me if you weren’t certain."

"Maybe I wanted to get you off my back."

Lexa smiled slowly. "I think that's exactly where you want me."

Clarke's mouth dropped open. "Are you drunk?"

"Barely tipsy."

"Lexa. What are you doing?"

Lexa stopped short. "I'm sorry, I thought-"

Clarke was the one stepping closer this time. "No, I don't want an apology, I want an explanation. Clearly, you want… something from this. You talk to me; you flirt; you asked me out."

"I had a spa-"

"Come on. You don't even believe that."

Lexa swallowed. "Maybe I was wrong too. Maybe it wasn't you."

"It's one step forward, two steps back with you. I don't get it." Clarke set her bottle down. "Fine then, there is one way for me to be sure. We can settle this right here, right now."

Lexa's eyes flickered down to her lips before she caught herself. "There is?" She asked barely audibly.

"If you'll let me…"

Slowly, Clarke reached for her wrist. She felt Lexa tense and then relax, holding her eyes while Clarke undid the buttons of her sleeve. When they were loose, she pushed the sleeve up her arm. Clarke felt her heart beat faster the more skin she uncovered, gently pushing the fabric past Lexa's elbow. She tried not to think how soft and warm she felt beneath her fingertips, or if she was imagining the way Lexa's breathing stuttered a bit.

Lexa must've known what Clarke was trying to find out. Her eyes darkened when Clarke finally glanced at her arm. The bottom of a tattoo peeked out from beneath the bunched up sleeve, thick lines wrapping all around her bicep. Clarke's hand fell like she was burned, but a quick Lexa reached out to take it in hers.

"Lexa," Clarke gasped.

"Is that all you need to be sure?" Lexa asked quietly, face drawing closer.

Clarke found it hard to even think. "I-I could always find another way."

"Oh?"

Clarke's eyes closed when she felt Lexa's nose brush against hers, but the anticipation of a kiss remained just that. 

"Then make sure of it," Lexa ordered tenderly in her ear as their fingers laced together. "Close your eyes tonight and make sure it was me."

Clarke felt her skin become heated, the pulsing between her legs desperate for attention. "What if it is? What if it's not?"

Lexa stepped back, her eyes hooded like she was drunk. "I guess we can put my theory to the test."

"Your theory?"

"Whether we're inevitable or not."

"Lexa-"

Lexa let go of her hand and walked toward the exit. "Have a good night, Clarke."

* * *

When Clarke got home after Wells and Raven dropped her off, the stillness of everything was in stark contrast to the apartment full of life and laughter she had been in for hours. She didn't mind the quiet though - loved it, even, especially after long days at the café. But maybe there could be... a little more life to the place. 

By the time she got to bed, her body was buzzing. Clarke turned on her back and took a deep, steadying breath. She couldn't stop thinking about the way Lexa had touched her. What she had husked in her ear. 

She hadn't… dared. Not even once. Getting herself off to the thought of Lexa had felt all sorts of wrong, especially knowing she'd have to face her at the café on a regular basis. But it was unbearable now. Clarke slid a hand beneath the hem of her sleep shorts and between her legs, moaning when she found herself wanting. It was no surprise - not after the rooftop. She closed her eyes and tried to focus, remembering her vision in fragments at first.

But her vision wasn't what she wanted. Her vision was just that - a fantasy. She wanted the reality of Lexa; the Lexa she'd felt against her tonight; the Lexa who'd made her dizzy with mere words.

So she imagined the rooftop instead: her, pressed against the parapet, and Lexa pressed against her. She imagined Lexa's hand going up her thigh, slowly pushing up the fabric of her dress. She could still smell her, could still feel her mouth by her neck. Lexa hooked her fingers in her underwear and slid it down, encouraged when she felt how wet Clarke was. Clarke had to imagine how Lexa would moan; if she would be vocal or not; how deep her fingers might reach. She touched herself slowly at first, head thrown back and mouth agape.

She didn't know if Lexa was a talker in bed, but it was easy to recall the shiver down her spine when she'd told her to think of her. This time her words were dirtier, spurring her on. Clarke's thighs widened as the ache inside her swelled and she added a second finger. 

"Lexa," she gasped, bringing her other hand to her breast to squeeze it roughly.

Her thoughts scattered all over: Lexa gripping her hips to turn her around, leaning down so that Clarke felt her weight on her back. Lexa taking her from behind, filling her with two and then three fingers. Overwhelmed, Clarke turned on her stomach and groaned in desperation, knees pressing into her mattress while she brought herself over the brink. She moaned loudly into her pillow, her orgasm blindsiding her. 

Clutching her sheets with one hand, Clarke's grip loosened slowly. She let out a small moan and felt her muscles loosen as her knees finally caved and she flopped onto her mattress. It had been far too long.

Turning on her back, Clarke kept her eyes closed as her breathing returned to normal. She wasn't too eager to open them to a lonely room, at least not for now. She moved her body to drag the sheets atop her and slipped her hands beneath her pillow, her stomach already in knots at the prospect of seeing Lexa tomorrow. 

But there was no going back now. Clarke was sure Lexa knew it too. No matter what this was between them, if two nights were all they'd need to work out the tension between them, denying it was not in the cards. At least not the ones Clarke held.

-

[part seven]

[korra-the-red-lion]

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 5: Killer Moves, Dude.

(Lyn)

I sighed deeply through my nose as I handed in my test. I legit have no idea how I did on it. Religion in Pop Culture was a fun class, but some of the material was challenging. I mumbled my thanks to the prof and hefted my bag over my shoulder as I headed out.

It’s been nearly 3 weeks since the shower incident. No other freaky shit had happened, so I guess it was just a hideously stupid prank. Our guess was it was one of the other teams just playing a prank on us, or the women’s soccer team. We were the only ones who would have been in the locker room at that time.

Still, the whispers and the strange looks were starting to get on my nerves. I normally would argue that I was an easy-going kind of person, but this kind of attention had made my mood sour as of late.

“Why the scowl, Lyn-Lyn?”

I glanced over when Loryn bumped hips, finding a little smile on her face.

“Just finished writing a test and heard yet another ‘bet they’re gonna lose the banner again’ whispers,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I swear, these people are making me want to commit bloody murder.”

“Aw, don’t let them get to you,” said Loryn, wrapping her arms around mine, “they ain’t worth it.”

“I know, I know. It’s just hard, you know?”

Loryn nodded. “Yup, totes. But seriously, Lyn, I have a good feeling about this year. I feel like barring any extreme accidents, we’re gonna kick Turner’s ass this year and win that banner.”

I finally cracked a real smile. “Loryn, you know you’re awesome, right?”

“I mean, obviously. That’s why everyone loves me,” she said with a cheeky grin.

I snorted, the tension finally leaving my body. I said goodbye to Loryn, who was heading to her next class as I headed to the pool to teach swim lessons.

Loryn was one of those people who just knew how to get under my skin, in a good way. We were frosh together, and ended up in the same res. When we both showed up for the rookie week, we had a good laugh about the coincidence and because fast friends. Loryn came from a family of four girls, which according to her meant she was ‘a-mazing at dealing with conflict’ and it was hard to bring her mood down. She was planning on going to school after this to become a middle school teacher, which I thought was awesome. I was lucky to have a good friend in her, because my first year here was… well, let’s just say I was going through some stuff.

I pulled off my shirt as I walked into the AC, waving to Hassan, who was working at the desk today. He was a really sweet guy on the Badminton team, and admittedly I used to have a huge crush on, so every now and then I liked to tease him when I went by.

He grinned as he waved back, and I snickered as I bounded down the stairs to head into the locker room. I could hear all the kids chatting and messing around in there as I punched in the password to the swim team’s locker room. Those sounds always brightened my mood, and by the time I was done changing, my mood was pretty much back to the usual Lyn Hart standard.

I stepped onto the pool, laughing as a couple of the kids immediately ran to my side. Hunter, Joy, Kevin and Morgan loved me and always raced over to tell me about their days or whatever else crossed their minds. I sat down on the pool edge as they all spoke over each other to be heard, and eventually I had to settle them down so I could start the lesson.

I hopped into the pool and demonstrated the skills they needed to learn for this week’s lesson. I always loved getting in with them and showing them how to do it right. Too often do I see the other instructors standing on the pool deck, not really engaging in teaching. I get it, it’s not for everyone, but sometimes it’s not about you, it’s about the kids. Some of these kids…swim practice is their escape, they need this. If you aren’t there to be supportive, then why are you here in the first place?

The lesson went by so fast, and it was time for our practice. I said goodbye to the little guys and quickly threw on my cap and goggles. Time to get this underway.

XXX

“Lyn?”

I looked up from my laptop bleary eyed. Kerry pulled out a chair and sat down next to me. “Yeah? Wassup?”

She sighed as she leaned back, pulling her leg up on the seat. “I know this is going to sound so utterly stupid, but I’m nervous about the meet this weekend. I just haven’t been in a great head space recently, and with all the drama surrounding us and Gunner, I guess I’m just feeling overwhelmed.”

“Hey,” I said, reaching over and taking her hand in mine, “that is not stupid at all. Don’t ever think how you feel is stupid, got it?”

Kerry gave a lopsided smile. “Thanks, Lyn.”

I smiled in return. “Always. Now, did you tell Emma about how you felt? Or Andrew?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I will, yeah. Just…I wanted to talk to someone else about it first. It’s one of those things where you know that once you talk to someone is like ‘oh, why’d you take so long to say something?’ but still take your time.”

“I totally get that. I tend to keep things all bottled up until it just explodes out, you know? Loryn is the only one who knows how to get it out of me. Remember at the Halloween Bash last year when I finally lost my shit and decked Frankie across the chin?” I shook my head in shame.

Kerry chuckled. “I have to admit though, Frankie deserved it. He was being such a dick.”

I smirked, thinking back to that night. Frankie probably did deserve it but resorting to physical violence was something I should avoid in the future.

All of a sudden, Matt popped out of nowhere. It was like he was using his twin sense to find Kerry. Honestly, it was cute. Kerry seemed to be the more sensitive of the two on the surface, but in reality, it was Matt. He was constantly checking in on Kerry and would seriously drop anything to make sure she was okay. Kerry and Gunner were in an on again off again relationship for the past 6 months, and clearly his drug incident was bothering her a lot more than she was letting on. Matt walked over and plopped down on the table.

“Did I miss anything important?”

“I was admitting to my undying love to your sister, and we’re running away together after the swim meet tomorrow to move to Calgary,” I said seriously. Kerry nodded solemnly beside me.

Matt rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out. “How are y’all feeling about it, anyhow?”

I shrugged. “I mean, the first meet of the season. Feeling a little nervous, but otherwise same as always.”

“Ah, the Stonewall Lyn is coming back out to play, huh?”

“I hate it when you call me that,” I said with a whine, slumping onto the table. “It’s not like I’m impenetrable.”

“No, that much is obvious,” said Kerry with a smirk. Matt burst into laughter as my ears got hot. I reached over and squeezed Kerry’s arm, causing her to jokingly squeal in pain.

Someone yelled at us to shut up, and we all quieted down guiltily. Sometimes I forget that you still had to be quiet in the library. Matt slipped off the table and pulled out his own laptop, and the three of us decided to do our homework together.

XXX

My head burst through the water as I took a breath. I could barely hear them all shouting at me to go faster, that I was only close behind Sophie LeBlanc from Turner University. We both hit the wall and I pushed off, kicking hard. I could see in the corner of my eye that we were neck and neck for the final 25 meters. Sophie was faster than me, but I had more endurance. The 200 Fly was where I shined. My hands smacked against the wall and I immediately looked up to check the clock. A huge grin broke out on my face when I saw the number 1 next to my name. Sophie smiled at me and I reached over the lane rope to give her a hug.

“Good swim,” I huffed out.

“You too,” she breathed heavily.

I pulled myself out and shakily walked over to where the team was waiting, clapping me on the back. Maddie handed me my towel and I listened to Coach Jacob point out some things I did well and things I could work on, nodded when I needed to. He clapped me on the shoulder and sent me to the warm down pool.

I hopped in and swam a couple of laps lazily, to get that lactic acid moving out of my system. I stopped at the wall and watched Kerry swim her 50 Breast, cheering as she hit the wall for a turn. Despite her initial nerves, she was on fire this meet.

I swam back to the other end of the warm down pool and jumped out. I quickly threw on my swim parka and sweatpants, not wanting to get cold. The relay was the last event, and I needed to be ready to swim the Fly sprint. I walked over to where Emma, Maddie, and Tammy were, getting each other pumped up.

Emma huddled us together and closed her eyes. “Alright, you psycho bitches, we’re going to kill this relay. We’re not going to let Turner or Francois step all over us this year. You girls are seriously some of the best people I’ve ever had the joy of swimming with. Wolves on 3. 1, 2, 3!”

We all shouted “WOLVES” and hurried over to the starting block. Maddie chucked all her stuff into the box behind the timer’s chairs and waited for the whistle blow before hopping into the water. A jolt of nervous energy shot through my system as the buzzer went off, and so did the swimmers. I tossed all my stuff off too and slapped my arms and legs as part of my good luck ritual. I spared a glance over at Sophie, who gave me a cheeky smile before getting settled herself.

Maddie was fast approaching the wall, and Tammy was raring to go. She dove in the second Maddie’s fingertip brushed the wall, her form as beautiful as always. I shouted with the others as loudly as I could, before getting onto the block myself. Tammy was slicing through the water, looking as awesome as she did. I know she was exhausted from her 50 Breast swim from earlier, but it didn’t show at all as she kept pace with the others. Tammy’s hands slammed into the wall and I dove in, kicking as hard as I possibly could and fell into a mad rhythm, trying to keep pace with Sophie and Megan from Francois University. My lungs were screaming for air by the time I hit the wall for my turn, and I took a quick breath. My body was already in agony from my earlier swims, but I had to push through that for them. I hit the wall hard and Emma dove in. Maddie helped me out as I struggled to catch my breath. Emma was already halfway down the pool when I got out, trying my best to cheer for her despite my lack of oxygen. Kim Hawks from Turner was one of the best freestyle sprinters in the province, and while Emma was good, she wasn’t as good as Kim. I just hoped that we did enough to stay in the race.

Emma slammed her hand against the wall, and we all looked at the timer on the wall, holding our breaths. Turner popped up in the number 1 spot, unfortunately. But Mount Seamus showed up in the number 2 spot right after and we cheered. Maybe it wasn’t first, but yeah, beating Francois felt pretty damn good. We helped Emma out of the pool and held each other for a minute. I could feel the pride oozing off of us, and that was amazing. The points all mattered in the end, but right now, we did good.

XXX

Mondays after a swim meet were always the hardest. You were exhausted and spent the whole Sunday evening catching up on any work you were behind on. The only thing nice about them was morning practice was cancelled.

I yawned my whole way through my Asia World History course, even though it was one of my favourite classes. It was just hard when you were as tired as I was. I was just lucky since I did the readings ahead of time, because I know my notes were total garbage today.

Professor Gorgens told me I did an awesome job this weekend as I left class, and I gave him a warm smile. The guy was a bit of an egotistical jerk sometimes, but he did care about his students and made an effort to keep up with how the athletes were doing.

The food hall was a little quieter today, as students were frantically studied for their first batch of tests or they were just getting sick of the food already, which does happen. I yawned as I grabbed a couple of the premade sandwiches and some of the less questionable fruits. I didn’t really feel like eating inside right now, so I lumbered outside.

I sat down under the big tree, taking small bites out of my sandwich as I read through my textbook for my next class. It was just about October, and while it was starting to cool down, it was still nice enough out to enjoy the weather.

It felt like I was starting to doze off when I heard someone say my name. I looked up groggily and saw Ally waving to me.

“Oh, hey, Ally,” I said. “How have you been?”

Her eyes flickered to the tree uneasily before looking back at me. “Oh, good! I just finished writing my first midterm and have another one tomorrow. So, just been a little busy. How about you?”

I shrugged. “Good. Busy with swimming and school, so the usual.”

I’m not sure what was going on with Ally, but she kept looking up at the branches with some obvious discomfort. I looked up as well, wondering if there was an animal or something, but I didn’t see anything out of the norm. I looked back to her, and when we made eye contact, she gave me a tight smile.

“Is there…is there something wrong?” I asked hesitantly.

Her smile tightened even more, and she shook her head. “Nope, nothing is wrong. Why would you think there’s something wrong?”

Uh, okay. That was weird. I frowned and said, “Well, because you’re all wound up about something.”

“Am I?”

“You seem to be.”

She made a popping sound with her mouth. “I see. Well…this is going to sound so strange, so don’t judge me please, but I don’t like the vibes from the tree.”

I stared at her blankly before nodding. “Yeah, okay. That makes sense.”

“It does?” She sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, totally.” I stood up, brushing my butt off and walking away from the tree. “According to the history of the school, this tree was planted on an old mass grave. It freaks a lot of people out because of that, but I always found it a nice spot to sit.”

Ally’s face paled as she took in the tree entirely. I don’t think I totally understood what was bothering her, but I gently pushed her away until the colour returned to her face. Whatever it was about the tree bothered her, and I was going to respect that.

“Does that bother you?” I asked as I continued to lead her away.

Ally gave a slow nod. “I…it just makes me uncomfortable, that’s all. I didn’t realize that there were so many buried skeletons at this school.” She tried to look over at it one last time, but I placed my hand on her face and directed her attention to me instead.

When our eyes connected, Ally made a strange face as her cheeks turned red. I know sometimes my stare can be pretty intense, according to the several people on the team who told me, so I dropped my hand and looked away slightly.

“Sorry, I just didn’t think you should be looking at the tree if it was freaking you out that much, you know?” I said with a grin.

“Oh, uh, yes!” Ally composed herself and nodded firmly. “Thank you for that. Sometimes I just get into my own head and it’s hard to get out of there.”

“Anxiety can be a bitch,” I said with sympathy.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” she said with a small chuckle.

I walked with Ally to her next class, just wanting to make sure everything was all good before I headed to mine. Some nice-looking guy with a small scar on his eyebrow was waiting for her when we got there, and I waved goodbye to her as I walked down the steps. Ally seemed more adjusted to the student life than last time I spoke to her, which was good. I was glad that she was making friends and finding herself a nice routine to fall into.

I was just about to dash to my class when I realized I left all my things under the tree when I made Ally leave. I ran over and gathered all my things quickly, sparing one last glace at the branches before leaving.

Maybe it was the trick of my eye, but it did kind of look like there was a shadow. I blinked and looked again, only to see the clear sky through the branches. Huh.

XXX

Practice was an easy affair today. Coach Jacob liked to give us one easy day after a meet, something we all appreciated. Plus, he started the day off with great news.

“Gunner is allowed to compete again!” he announced before any of us got into the water.

Several people cheered and Kerry gave him a small peck on the cheek. Gunner looked embarrassed but determined. He apologized to all of us for his behaviour this summer and that he was going to make it up to us.

Jackie reached over and patted his shoulder. “Hey, it happens to the best of us, Gunner. My sister fell in with the wrong crowd and ended up needing rehab. The important thing is that you got clean.”

Gunner brushed away tears and gave her a hug, which caused a huge group hug. I was happy for him, really. Sure, he made a mistake. But you’re supposed to be allowed to learn from those mistakes and grow from them. He was lucky to have such a good support system, because not everyone did. Coach Jacob rubbed his head and told everyone to get into the water and to stop being so sappy. A few of us laughed as we broke up the hug and did as we were told.

It was about halfway through practice when Jackie hopped out of the pool to run to the bathroom. Normally Coach Jacob hated when we did that, but I think he was in a good mood today, so he let it slide. He read through the next set and we got to work.

It wasn’t until we were finished with the set that I noticed Jackie hadn’t returned. That was really strange. I think other people noticed too, because I saw some heads swiveling as they looked for her. Jackie’s lane partner Tammy said under her breath, “What’s taking her so long? Did her tampon get stuck or something?”

I said I’d go see what was going on and pushed myself out of the pool. I padded lightly into the locker room and called out her name, only to get no response. I felt my heart speed up a little, as I felt a pit of concern growing in my stomach.

I walked into where the bathrooms were and knocked on all the doors. Still nothing. Maybe she just had to race home for something? I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling, however. That wasn’t like Jackie at all. She always made sure to let people know where she was going, even if it was a sudden situation change.

My heart was pounding loudly in my ears now as I called out again and still got nothing in return. I shuddered as I walked towards the locker room, feeling a sudden chill. I shakily punched in the combination and opened the door to where our lockers were located.

I couldn’t help but shriek when I saw Jackie lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. She groaned as I grabbed a towel and shoved it against her stomach, where it looked like someone had cut her with something. She opened her eyes and tried to say something, but I shushed her.

“Jackie, sweetie, don’t say anything right now,” I said, trying to keep the panic from my voice. “You need to lie very still, okay?”

She gave the teeniest of nods as her eyes lost focus again. I heard someone running into the change room, most likely responding to the sound of my scream.

I move the door with my foot so the worst of the scene is hidden from view. “Don’t come in!” I shouted.

“Lyn, what’s going on?” That was Loryn.

“Jackie’s been hurt, she needs medical attention ASAP.”

I heard Loryn swear loudly. “Lyn, my phone is in there!”

“Use the phone on the deck or upstairs!” My voice cracked with fear as the blood seeped through the towel. I grabbed another one and applied pressure on the wound, praying that it would slow down or stop. Jackie was looking very pale, and her breathing was shallow.

I forced myself to look away for a second, knowing I was getting tunnel vision. The lockers were all open and the light overhead was out. There were huge gouges in the wall that looked like they were trying to spell something, but I was not in the right head space to even try and read it right now.

The door opened and Coach Jacob stood in the doorway, taking the scene in. He went very pale and had to lean against the wall to keep himself upright.

“I-is she…?”

I shook my head. “Breathing, alive for now. She needs to get to the hospital, now.”

He nodded shakily. “They’re on the way. Loryn…she called.”

Thank God for Loryn. She was good a keeping calm under pressure. I looked down at Jackie and breathed a little easier when I saw that this towel hadn’t soaked through. I have no idea who did this to her, but they couldn’t have gotten too far. I felt like crying so bad right now, but the tears just wouldn’t come out. It was like my body knew what it needed to do right now, and crying was not it.

I refused to leave Jackie’s side until the paramedic gently removed me from the scene to ask some questions. I answered them the best I could, but I honestly had no idea what happened. I thought it was a stab mark at first, but as I thought about it a little bit more, I couldn’t get the visual of claw marks out of my head.

XXX

I sat on the hospital bed, my guts tied up into a nervous knot. I had to be brought in because I went into shock after I- well, after it. I checked my phone and paused when I saw that I missed a call from home. That was something unusual. Honestly? I didn’t feel like dealing with that right now, so I just swiped the notification off. If they couldn’t be bothered to leave a voice mail, then I can’t be bothered to call them back.

There was a knock at the door. I looked over as Loryn, Kerry, and Matt poked their heads in. I smiled weakly as they shuffled into the room. I took Loryn’s hand into my own as she sat down on my bed. Matt pulled over another chair and him and Kerry sat down next to the bed.

“Is…Jackie…?” I croaked, unable to get the words out.

Loryn nodded slightly. “Jackie is okay. She needed some serious stiches and won’t be able to compete for the rest of the season. Jacob and Robin are with her while they wait for her parents to arrive.”

I sighed in minor relief. “At least she’s okay. Um…did they find anyone?”

“They claim that they found a guy wielding a knife,” said Matt. “But Lyn, I’m not too sure about that. Why would some random guy attack a student in the locker room?”

That was my thought too. Also, I swear it was claw marks. They were straight across, not stabbed in. The thought of Jackie lying on the floor flashed in my mind and I had to squeeze my eyes shut as I waited out the wave of nausea. Loryn squeezed my hand as I struggled to control myself.

“Did they give you anything?” she asked quietly.

I shook my head slowly. “No, I refused.”

“Why’d you refuse?”

“I didn’t want to be drugged up if something happened to Jackie…”

There was a tense silence in the room. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else, so I directed my attention to the window. The ticking of the clock sounded incredibly loud as time passed by. The IV pump I was connected to chugged along as it pumped some fluids into my body. I could hear Kerry sniffling in her chair, unable to say the words she needed to hear. It was like my brain was shutting down, unable to process what had happened.

Poor Jackie didn’t deserve this. Not that anyone did, but Jackie was such a sweet person. She would give you the shirt off her back if you asked and would then give you even more. This was a random attack, but why? The why was bouncing around, giving me a headache.

I felt Loryn reach over and brush her thumb against my cheek. I looked at her confused as to why she did that, then I realized I was actually crying. I don’t cry often; it just wasn’t something I did. I began to tremble and completely lost it when the three of them gave me a tight hug.

I cried and cried until I couldn’t anymore.

[sesamestreep]

stack the deck with wild cards (chapter 5)

(read on AO3)

(start from the beginning)

SUMMARY: Valentine’s Day arrives, and so does Jyn’s appointment. 

A/N: Second to last chapter, same warnings as before (TW: pregnancy, abortion, unsafe sex), check the AO3 links above for more details. We’re almost done, folks! Last chapter is just a little epilogue because I’m corny like that, and I should have it up by tomorrow or the day after at the latest. I’m sending you all imaginary bouquets of flowers for sticking with me this far!!

On the day of her appointment, Jyn wakes up to the third alarm she set for herself, which has got to be some sort of record, since she sets around twelve on a normal day and she set about twenty for today so she could be sure she wouldn’t miss her appointment. It gives her way more time than she actually needs to get ready, and she’s too nervous to eat anything, so she can’t even kill the extra time by making herself breakfast. She takes a long shower, because her roommate is away for the weekend and can’t give her a hard time about it, and puts on an outfit that’s comfortable enough to come home in after the procedure, and contemplates actually styling her hair, just for the hell of it, but then discards the idea as silly.

The buzzer for the door goes off while she is trying to think of a better way to waste time and distract herself, and she’s impressed with how early Bodhi is. She presses the button to let him in, just as her phone starts ringing. Bodhi’s name and photo (a selfie he took with a flower crown filter when she wasn’t guarding her phone carefully enough after one of their gigs) pop up on the display. She swipes at the screen to answer it, feeling confused.

“Hey, I just let you in,” she says, warily. “That was you, right?”

“Not exactly,” Bodhi says. “Listen, you’re going to hate me for this, but—”

She panics immediately at his tone and interrupts. “Bodhi, please, you have to come with me, okay? You promised and I—I need you!”

“Jyn, I would never abandon you. I just did something slightly annoying because I thought it might help.”

“What did you do?”

“I sent an emissary in my place,” he replies, managing to sound guilty and proud of himself at the same time. “He really wouldn’t stop asking about you, and he seemed so worried, that I thought it would be—”

“Please tell me you didn’t send Cassian to accompany me to my abortion,” she says, pressing her forehead against the wall. This cannot be happening.

“Listen, I will understand if you never forgive me, but you’re both being complete idiots about this whole thing. Just tell him you like him, and let him take care of you like he so desperately wants to.”

“Bodhi, this is not some sort of romantic comedy, okay? I’m going to get an abortion. This is not any person’s idea of a dream date!”

“Of course it’s not. I know that,” Bodhi says. “But it’s not a dealbreaker for him either.”

Jyn rolls her eyes, even though he can’t see it. “And how would you even know that?”

“Because I asked him.”

“You…?” She looks at her phone in horror, as if that will change what she’s just heard. “You asked him if it was a dealbreaker?”

“No, I asked if he was still interested in you,” he replies, casually. Like this is no big deal.

“And what did he say?”

“Jyn, he’s at your doorstep,” Bodhi says, patiently. “If that’s not answer enough, ask him yourself.”

She closes her eyes, hoping that will somehow put an end to the whirlwind of emotions she’s feeling. She’s obviously annoyed with Bodhi for putting her in this position when she’s already stressed, but she also can’t deny that she does want to know Cassian’s answer to that question. Mostly, though, she just wishes none of this was happening, that she could just go back in time and make better choices two months ago.

“If you’re really uncomfortable, I will meet you at Planned Parenthood for your appointment,” Bodhi continues, when she doesn’t say anything for a few moments. “I would never actually leave you hanging.”

“No, of course not! You would just shamelessly meddle in my love life on the day I’m having an outpatient medical procedure,” she says, even though she does feel better. There’s a reason Bodhi’s her best friend, after all.

“Well, you’ve always done very well under pressure,” he jokes, and she laughs before she can stop herself.

“If this blows up in my face,” she says, just as she hears the knock on the door, “you’ll owe me forever.”

“I’m good with that,” Bodhi says, breezily. “Give Cassian a kiss for me.”

“Go to hell.”

“Text me if you need me. Love you. Bye!”

Jyn hangs up without responding, because she’s still in a mood with him, regardless of how good his intentions might have been. She starts to fidget with her hair before she realizes that’s stupid—Cassian already knows what he’s getting into—and goes for the door just as another knock echoes through the apartment. She undoes the lock and the deadbolt and the chain with clumsy fingers and opens the door to find Cassian there in what must be his casual weekend clothes and a heavy winter parka. He’s also, inexplicably, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Are those flowers?” She asks, like an idiot, before she can stop herself. She clears her throat, trying to soften her tone and hide her surprise. “I mean—Did you bring me flowers?”

He gestures upwards with them, as if he’s just remembered they exist. “These?” He asks, glancing at them. “No, actually, these are for the other woman I’m accompanying to an abortion today.”

Jyn feels a smile start to form. “God, I hope that’s not true,” she says, before realizing it sounds kind of possessive. “I mean, for your sake. I wouldn’t want you to have to deal with this situation twice. That’s all.”

“It was a joke, Jyn.” He smiles, embarrassed, and then adds, “You’re the only person I’ve impregnated recently.”

“That you know of,” she replies, trying to keep things light, but he doesn’t take the hint.

“The only one,” he says, devastatingly sincere, instead of joking with her. Then, he hands her the bouquet.

She looks down at it, at a loss for words momentarily. “Did I even say ‘hello’ to you yet?” She asks the flowers.

He laughs. “You didn’t, but I figure you’ll get around to it eventually.”

“Hi, Cassian,” she says. “Would you like to come in?”

“Sure.”

She steps aside to let him into the apartment and looks again at the flowers, a bouquet of ranunculus in different shades of orange, from peach to a dark cayenne color. She doesn’t know much of anything about flowers—how much they cost or what the nice ones are—but she feels like she might have picked these out herself if she’d seen them at the store and that’s all it takes to make her nervous again. She leaves Cassian to hang up his coat on his own and heads into the kitchen. She’s standing in front of the sink, lost for what to do next, when he joins her.

“Do you have a vase?” He asks, after a moment.

Jyn shakes her head. “I don’t think so,” she admits, before she laughs at herself. “Sorry. It’s just—No one’s ever bought me flowers before.”

“No one?”

“No. I’m going to kill them.”

Cassian blinks at her. “The….flowers?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that seems rude. You barely know them.”

“Not on purpose,” she says, closing her eyes to concentrate on not laughing again. “By neglect. I can’t take care of plants.”

“They’re basically dead already, Jyn. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m just saying, if this is some kind of test—”

“How would this be a test?”

“To see if I’m nurturing, or maternal, or—”

Cassian puts his hand on her back, gently, like he’s expecting her to shove him away at any second. “It’s not a test,” he says, carefully. “I thought we talked about this the other night…”

“We did, but—” she says, still staring at the flowers in her hands and unable to articulate what she’s thinking. “Why would you buy me flowers?”

He shrugs, looking lost himself. “I just thought it would be nice. It is Valentine’s Day, after all, and I know you’re probably fine, but you seemed a little stressed about the appointment the other night. So, I thought I should do something to cheer you up, if I could, and then there was a florist on the way here, so it felt like a sign. I don’t know why, really, I just thought that it would be a nice thing to do. But if you don’t like them—”

“I didn’t say that,” she says, cutting him off.

“Oh,” he says, surprised. “Okay.”

“You didn’t have to bring me anything, though. I told you I don’t care about Valentine’s Day.”

“Well, I do.”

“Really?”

“Apparently,” he says, looking away. He clears his throat, obviously looking for a change of subject. “If you cut the ends off of those stems, I’ll find something you can use as a vase.”

“You’re just inviting yourself to rummage through my entire kitchen now?” Jyn asks, feigning offense even as she’s grabbing the scissors to follow his directions.

“That’s exactly what’s happening, yes.”

By the time she’s finished with the stems, Cassian is back by her side, filling up a clear plastic sports bottle he found in one of the cabinets. He takes the flowers from her and begins arranging them in the bottle, cutting a few of them shorter so they sit better. He sets the whole thing on the counter to admire his handiwork and looks at her for approval.

“You can’t be serious,” she says.

“Why not?”

“It’s a water bottle!”

“So?”

“It looks silly.”

“It’s the best I could do on short notice,” he says, with a shrug. “Next time I buy you flowers, I’ll make sure to get you a proper vase too.”

“Next time?” Jyn asks, faintly.

“Yeah. Next time.” He pulls a dead leaf off of one of the stems and refuses to meet her eye.

“Cassian,” she says, interrupting him. “What are you doing?”

“Me? I’m clearly making an idiot out of myself.”

She puts a hand on his arm to get him to look at her. “You’re not, I promise. I just don’t know what’s happening right now.”

“I think you do, actually,” he says, carefully, like he’s afraid to keep going. He does anyway, though, after a moment. “I think you know what it means when someone shows up at your place with flowers and threatens to do it again in the near future. And I hope you know what it means that I want to go to this doctor’s appointment with you today. I mean, maybe I’m wrong, but I think I’m being very clear with my intentions.”

Jyn shakes her head, trying to get her thoughts in order. “You’re right. You are being clear. I’m just confused because—why would you want to date me?”

“Because I like you.”

“Right, but—and I know that I’m not actually supposed to do this, because it’s not sexy or confident or whatever, but—I don’t understand why,” she says. “I mean, I’ve made every step of this as difficult as possible for you and I wasn’t even trying to put you off. That’s just what I’m like in a relationship. So, why would you want to put yourself through that?”

Cassian finally stops fiddling with the flowers and really looks at her. “Right,” he says, his tone caught somewhere between offended and disbelieving. “Who would ever want to date someone like you? You’re just smart and creative and sarcastic, not to mention beautiful. It doesn’t make any sense why I’d want to be with you.”

“Cassian…”

He doesn’t let her interrupt, though. “No, actually, you know what? I don’t think you’re asking the right question here.”

“I’m not?” Jyn asks, baffled. She’s never really seen him upset like this before, aside from the glimpse of it she got the other night when he came over and she inadvertently hurt his feelings.

“No, you’re not,” he replies. “I don’t think I need to provide an itemized list of everything I like about you. I think you should take my word for it that I’m not trying to date you because I’m confused, or because I feel obligated to you in any way, or because I just don’t know you well enough. I’m not desperate and I don’t have low standards, either, in case that’s what you’re trying to tell yourself. I want to date you because I think we could be good together and because I want to get to know you better.

“So, clearly, I know what I want. The important question, then, is: what do you want, Jyn?”

“I don’t know!” She responds immediately, without thinking, startled by how certain he is and how earnest. She knows, though, that answer won’t actually satisfy him. More importantly, he also just deserves a real answer at this point, even if the idea of trying to put how she feels into words makes her queasy. Either that or it’s just her pregnancy rearing its ugly head again.

She takes a moment, once she’s had her little outburst, to really think about it and she sighs before she dives in. “I’m sorry, it’s just—All of this has been so confusing, from the very beginning. I just wanted to hook up with you one time, so I could put myself out there again and feel like somebody might actually want me. And it worked, but not in the way I thought it would. I thought it could just be a rebound, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, afterwards. I still can’t.

“You put this idea into my head that I could have someone like you, someone who gives a fuck about me and what I want, who respects me and likes me, even though I’m always late and my apartment is always a mess and I don’t have a 401K or whatever, and that scared the hell out of me, because it was just supposed to be a casual, one-time thing. But I knew, after the first time, that it couldn’t really be like that between us. I knew you’d give me anything I asked for, but I just wasn’t ready to ask for more. Which is why I never called, afterwards.”

“What about now?” He asks. He doesn’t sound hurt, or like he’s judging her; he just wants to know. “Are you ready now?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, carefully. “I’m not sure I’m in a place where I can be someone’s girlfriend again just yet. I’m still dealing with a lot of things that came up during the breakup. And it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to wait, or put up with that, when none of it is your fault.”

“I don’t have to ‘put up with’ you, Jyn. I like you, remember?”

“Even now? When I’m being confusing?”

He smiles. “Even now.”

“What if we made a compromise?”

“We don’t have to do this. Really,” he says, shaking his head. “I understand your reservations and I respect them, even if I hate the idea that your idiot of an ex-boyfriend gets to ruin anything else for you after he’s already put you through so much.”

Jyn just blinks at him, confused, though she’s not sure why. Nobody likes her ex, but hearing Cassian talk about it is somehow different. They barely knew each other when she was dating Reece. She didn’t think he would have left much of an impression. “You think he’s an idiot?” She asks.

“I think he’s the stupidest person to ever live,” he says, with more conviction than Jyn’s ever heard from him, which is saying something. Cassian tends to have strong opinions about most things. “Not only because he treated you so terribly, but also because he let you go in the end.”

“Why didn’t you ever mention this before?”

Cassian shrugs, helplessly, like she’s backed him into a corner. “Well, I was trying very hard to seem like a normal guy who didn’t have a crush on you, and bashing your ex-boyfriend seemed like an easy way to show my hand, so I avoided talking about it with you.”

She can’t help it, at that point. She just needs to get this out of her system, she rationalizes, as she puts her arms around his neck to drag him down for a kiss. It’s just that not kissing him was getting so annoying, when he was just standing there being so handsome and patient and perfect. He leans forward, chasing her a bit, but she pulls away after only a moment.

“I mentioned a compromise…” she says, watching him cautiously.

“I’m listening,” he replies, with his eyes still closed.

“I’m not sure I’m ready to be in a relationship again—not yet, I mean. But I do know that sleeping with you didn’t get rid of the feelings I have for you, and ignoring them and you for two months didn’t help either.” She bites her lip. “I’m sorry for that, by the way.”

“I know,” he says, quietly, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry too. I should have—”

Jyn puts her fingertips to his lips to stop him. “Wait,” she says. “Let me finish.”

He nods, but says nothing.

“Clearly, I can’t ignore my feelings for you, or pretend I’m just interested in having casual sex with you. So, what if we did just date ? We could hang out and get to know each other better without worrying about what we’re calling it or what kind of future we might have.” She moves her hand to grasp at his shirt, as if that will somehow convey her sincerity. “I know that probably sounds like I’m letting you down easy, but you have to believe me when I say that’s not it.”

“Okay.”

“I just really need to take things slow right now because I—Wait, did you just say, ‘okay’?” she asks.

“Yes,” Cassian says with a small smile, the one she’s starting to recognize he always has when she’s acting like an idiot, as if he’s charmed by it instead of annoyed.

“What, just like that?”

“Yes, just like that. Listen, I have my fair share of trust issues, too. I’m not going to pretend I don’t. So, I can’t say that I really believe you’re going to wake up one day and want to be in a relationship with me, because that’s just not how my brain works. But I really want to believe that and, if you do change your mind or decide this doesn’t work for you, I’ll still have gotten more time with you than if I walked away right now. So, yes, I agree to your terms.”

“Well, good,” Jyn says, anti-climatically. She really thought that he was going to require much more convincing. She’s not sure what to do with herself now. “Uh, actually, that’s great. Because I got us reservations at this really cool place this morning. I think you’re really going to like it.”

He lifts an eyebrow at her, thinking it over for a second before it clicks. “Are you talking about Planned Parenthood?”

“Yep.”

He shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, even as he leans in to kiss her again. She doesn’t bother thinking of something clever to say in response, she just pulls him in closer. It’s every bit as good as she remembers, for all they’re just standing in her kitchen and she’s wearing a ratty old sweater and about to get an abortion. She lets herself get swept away in it, despite the very practical conversation they’ve just had and all of her concerns, and allows the possibility that she might get this, Cassian kissing her and holding her face in his perfect hands and making her feel warm and melt-y, for a long time yet.

After a few moments like that, Jyn pulls back suddenly as she remembers something. “When I said I wanted to ‘take things slow,’ I hope you know I didn’t mean it sexually,” she says, adamant. “I think we should have sex again as soon as possible. With protection this time, obviously.”

Cassian laughs, and she can feel it as he kisses her neck. “Thank you for the clarification.”

“So you agree?”

“That we should have sex soon? Or about using protection?” He asks, and then shakes his head. “What am I saying? The answer is ‘yes, absolutely’ to both of those things.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“We do have to get to your appointment, though.”

“Well, clearly I didn’t mean right now .”

He laughs again. “I know,” he says, looking so enamored of her just then that it renders her momentarily speechless. She’s not sure anyone’s ever looked at her like that before. “But my point stands.”

“Yes, okay, you’re right,” she says, trying her best to sound annoyed with the reminder, for all that she’s actually stupidly happy. She kisses him again, just because she can, and it successfully distracts them for another few moments until Cassian pulls back with a groan.

“Jyn, seriously…”

“I did mention that I’m always late, right? This is just something you’re going to have to get used to.”

“I’m calling us a cab,” he says, stepping back as he gets his phone out of his pocket. He waves a finger at her, trying so hard to look stern that she can only laugh in response. “No more distractions.”

“A cab? What are we, Rockefellers?”

“No, but we’ll be late otherwise,” he replies, already dialing. “And besides, I’m not going to be cheap on our first date.”

“I was kidding about that,” Jyn says, stepping close enough that she can toy with the string from the hood of his sweatshirt rather than look into his eyes. “We do not have to consider this our first date.”

He reaches out with his free hand to run a thumb over her cheekbone. “It’s too late for that,” he says, while he waits for someone at the other end of the line to pick up. “I’m already considering it. Go get your jacket.”

She gives him a small salute, which she’s immediately embarrassed of, but that same fond look passes over his features again before she turns away. Her nerves about the appointment come back when she’s alone in her room, putting on her coat and getting ready to leave. She knows it’s perfectly routine, just an outpatient procedure, but she can’t help but worry that something totally unexpected will go wrong. And now she has to worry about Cassian being around afterwards, and what she’ll say or do and how it might scare him off completely.

That fear lasts only until the moment she comes out of her room to find him waiting for her by the front door. His eyes light up when they see her, there’s just no other way to describe it, and the nerves suddenly feel more like anticipation than dread. This is their first date, she reminds herself, unorthodox though it may be. She smiles back, still a little uncertain but trying to hold onto the idea that this could be good, that this thing between them could work.

“Shall we?” He asks, like they’ve got reservations at the Plaza and not an appointment at Planned Parenthood, and holds out his hand to her. She takes it and, for that moment, she doesn’t even have to try to feel certain about this. She just does.

[megalony]

Slip up

This is another murderer! Ben Hardy imagine that I hope everyone is going to enjoy, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem​ @butlegendsneverdie​ @langdonzvoid​ @jennyggggrrr​ @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah​ @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6​ @rogertaylors-lipgloss​ @sj-thefan​ @omgitsearly​ @luckytrashgooprebel​ @scarsout​ @deaky-with-a-c​  @killer-queen-ofrhye  @bluutac​ @vousmemanqueez​ @jonesyaddiction​ @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms​ @saint-hardy​ @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls​ @mrsalwayswritex​ @rogerina-owns-me​ @peterquillzsblog​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @crazylittlethingg​

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Summary: Joe asks (Y/n) for a favour that could get her into trouble with her husband Ben and she really doesn’t want to get on his bad side.

Enjoy.

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

"Joe... I'm really not allowed to do that." (Y/n) could already feel the shaking setting into her bones from the mere thought of what he was asking her to do. She hoped he would understand and walk away but he followed her down the corridor that was as cold as a freezer. (Y/n) could feel the chill in the air nipping at her skin causing goosebumps to arise on her flesh. Her head turned to look at her friend who was walking alongside her, his expression just as desperate as her own. He knew what he was asking but he wouldn't even be asking if he wasn't in trouble.

"I know, I know but if he finds out I didn't put all the cash back in there he'll kill me. (Y/n), please."

A shudder ran down both their spines when they both knew that Joe's ill-fated remark was not an exaggeration. Joe would be hurt and fired for this, if not killed in the end as well and he valued his life and his job here. He needed (Y/n) to help him out before Ben went upstairs and realised what Joe had done out of desperation.

It had been Joe's week this week to collect the money the club was owed and normally it was no problem at all. All the men knew they could use brute force to get what they needed and they had their guns on them at all times for added protection and as means of threat. But when Joe got the money, he didn't give all of it to Ben to put in the safe, he had to keep a bit back to use for his own purpose and that was strictly against the rules. Joe was a stickler for the rules- at least, for the rules imposed by Ben, not the law- but this one time he had to go against them. But he had the intention of giving the money back before Ben even noticed it was gone and today he had the money to put back in the safe.

But the problem was, the safe was upstairs and no one was permitted in the upstairs office without Ben being present, not even (Y/n) could go up there on her own.

Joe needed that money in the safe today because it was the day of the week for counting the money and paying the wages and bills. If Ben noticed it was gone he would know exactly who had taken it and then he would have Joe's head for it.

But (Y/n) could put it back.

"I don't own a key for the door, Ben does." (Y/n) wrung her hands together in front of her as she stopped walking and turned to face Joe.

"But you know the code to get up the stairs and the code for the safe... can't you take his keys for five minutes, please? Just put the cash in the safe and then put the keys back, he trusts you."

There was a key code on the side of the door that led to the stairs needed to reach the first floor. (Y/n) was permitted to know the code since she was married to Ben and he owned the club, but she didn't have a set of keys for the safe room upstairs so she couldn't get in without Ben's set of keys that she knew had five keys on it. One for the front door, one for the back door, one to his main office downstairs, one for the office door upstairs and one for the desk drawers in his downstairs office.

"I... okay, fine. But I really can't get in trouble if he finds out, you know that." (Y/n) could put the money back but she couldn't take the blame if Ben found out what she was doing, she wasn't getting on his bad side and Joe knew it would be far too much to ask her to lie for him if she got caught.

Just because Ben loved her didn't mean he didn't threaten or hurt her if she went against him.

When the pair reached Ben's downstairs office, (Y/n) tried the door before reaching into her pocket for her car keys that held the keys she was allowed to have for the club and her house key. She desperately hoped that Ben didn't have the office keys attached to his belt loop like he sometimes did or Joe was as good as dead.

Her footsteps were light like she was a spy or a burglar even though she was allowed in this office. Her heart started pounding against her chest when she saw the keys resting on the corner of Ben's desk and she wasted no time in swiping them from the desk. (Y/n) could barely breathe when she stepped out of the office and locked it back up behind her. Was she really going to do this? (Y/n) had a hard time trying to find somewhere in her house to hide presents from Ben, or even just walking around the club on her own. Actually snooping around like this was going to give her a panic attack or even a heart attack.

"Love," Ben's voice hit (Y/n)'s ears like a truck and her whole body froze in place before slowly turning on her heels to face her husband who put the fear of God into her despite how much she loved him. "Can you go sit at the desk for five minutes, Adam had to pop out."

Ben's words were more of an order than a request but he was trying his best not to sound controlling because his controlling nature was beginning to be a problem. He didn't see the way (Y/n)'s breath left her lips in a huff of relief before she managed to smile and nod.

"Sure." (Y/n) leaned into his shoulder when he walked over to her, his arm winding around her waist but his eyes darted between her and Joe, wondering what the pair of them were doing. Joe dipped his head at Ben before walking past him, clearly heading into the boxing ring room.

They had a front reception area at the main entrance for the few people who came here to box rather than to work for Ben. They had to be checked and signed in and it was relatively easy until someone got frisky or demanded to be let in when they weren't a member. (Y/n) never minded sitting at the desk, she could daydream and only had to smile politely at the members, most of which she knew and never had to ask for ID or a name to press the buzzer and let them into the gym/ boxing ring.

"I have a meeting in five, I'll come see you when it's finished." (Y/n) hummed in response, smiling when she felt Ben's lips pressing to the top of her head and she tightened her arms around his waist before eventually pulling back to go to work.

(Y/n)'s eyes landed on Joe when she walked into the ring, seeing two guys in the ring and three others stood around at the punching bags lined up near the windows. She reached her hand out when she walked past Joe and he placed the envelope of cash into her hand which she quickly stuffed into her back pocket, ready to put it in her bag that was hanging up in reception.

"I'll try putting it back as soon as Adam takes over at the desk." She whispered quietly before pressing the green button to head out into reception.

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

She could hear the way her heels clicked against the floorboards despite the carpet separating them. Her hand clung to the banister which she used to swing around the small corner on the steps and then again around the next corner until she was bounding down the narrow but straight part of the staircase. Her heels sounded like the hooves of horses against the road when she reached the bottom of the stairs and was back onto the concrete surface.

Peeking out of the window in the door, (Y/n) checked the corridor was clear before she opened the door and slipped out, closing the door until it clicked so it couldn't be opened again without putting in the code.

Now all she had to do was put the keys back on Ben's desk and everything would be fine.

(Y/n) held her breath to calm down her erratic breathing and heartbeat before she proceeded down the corridor until she reached Ben's office which she spent a lot of her time in. But the moment she opened the door that she found to be unlocked, the hairs on her arms pricked up and she stopped breathing when her eyes set on her husband.

"Where are my keys?" The words passed through Ben's lips in a cold sneer that showed he knew (Y/n) was the one who had them. Ben wasn't stupid, he had his keys on the desk and locked the door when he left earlier, (Y/n) was the only other person who could get into his office so it had to be her because Ben knew exactly where he left them and now they weren't there.

(Y/n)'s hand automatically reached behind her into her back pocket, her fingers curling around the key ring that she slipped over her finger to hold them better but she didn't pull her hand away. She walked closer to Ben but he was quick to meet her halfway, looming over her like a towering skyscraper that was about to crash down on her.

"Do you know what just happened?" Ben leaned his head down until his face was inches away from (Y/n)'s and his eyes could burn into hers that were already glossing over with tears of panic and terror.

"N-no..."

"I just had a meeting, and when I came to open my desk drawer to get the papers out, my fucking keys weren't there. Now the only person who could take my keys and lock my office door again is you, so why did you take them and what have you been up to?"

A shiver ran down (Y/n)'s spine as she visibly cowered back from Ben who was petrifying her with just his words. He narrowed his eyes, watching as she swallowed the lump in her throat before her chest was heaving up and down like she'd just ran a marathon. He had no idea why she would want his keys but he was beyond pissed that she had taken them and caused him to be embarrassed like he just was.

Ben was the on in control, he had to be feared by everyone but when he came to making a deal with the two men who just left the club, he looked like an idiot. He couldn't find his keys he always had on his person and therefore he had to jam a metal ruler between the desk and the drawer and smash it open to get the papers out he needed before the men called off the deal that Ben needed to happen. He couldn't have looked more desperate, enraged and unhinged smashing open his own drawer because they thought he'd simply misplaced his keys like he was that much of a simple idiot.

"Baby I- I'm sorry, I had to put something in the safe... I didn't think..."

"Do you know how fucking embarrassing that was for me, not having the key to my own shitting drawer? I had to break the damn thing open to get my papers out." Ben's hand was suddenly gripping (Y/n)'s chin with an iron grasp like he was trying to smash her jawbone to pieces. His thumb and forefinger pressed bruisingly into her cheeks and made her lips pout until a tear finally escaped her eye.

"I'm sorry." (Y/n) whimpered through the words that she truly meant but if Joe hadn't of feared for his life and his job she wouldn't had to of taken Ben's keys. If Ben was more understanding or a bit more relaxed this wouldn't have happened.

"Why were you going into the safe? You don't have a key to that room for a reason, you need something you ask me." Ben growled and snarled like an animal before he roughly let go of her chin, throwing her head to the side as he let go. But (Y/n) knew by his tone that he didn't really care if she told him the reason or not and that made her heart calm down for one tiny second. She didn't have to come up with a lie or dare to tell the truth and make Joe lose his job.

Finally realising that her hand was still stuffed into her back pocket, (Y/n) gingerly pulled her arms to her chest, holding both hands together with her keys enclosed in the middle like a precious pearl inside a clam.

Out of instinct, (Y/n)'s hand twitched and her fingers spasmed and curled into her palm, pushing the small key fob with five different keys into the palm of her hand like her skin was a mould for the indents of the keys. She could feel each jagged edge pressing against the tough skin of her hand until they were slowly slicing through each layer and letting small droplets of blood rise to the surface.

Her whole body jolted when Ben's hand cinched around her wrist like an iron bar that dug into the small amount of flesh and dug into the thin bones of her wrist. It took no effort for Ben to swiftly pull her wrist until her hand was within his line of sight that was daring yet so infuriated that his eyes were blazing like a wildfire. He watched with some sense of delight how (Y/n)'s breathing escalated but turned shallow until she was barely breathing at all.

Ben's other hand curled around (Y/n)'s hand that reminded him of an oyster shell that was unwilling to open up and reveal the secrets held within. He dug his nails into her fingers and slowly but easily bent them backwards until her spasming hand opened up to reveal the keys she was hiding with the circular key ring hooked over her finger to hold all the keys at once.

(Y/n) couldn't bite back a whimper when Ben's hand tightened around her much smaller wrist until she was sure he was going to snap the bone in two.

"Don't you dare pull a stunt like that again."

His words were menacing, but his expression was more frightening than anything else. The way his eyes were scrutinising her and the way his lips contorted into such an angered snarl and bared his teeth made (Y/n) want to shrink back and disappear or have the floor swallow her up whole.

"I won't, I d-didn't mean to-"

A petrified yelp left (Y/n)'s lips when the key ring hanging around her middle finger was suddenly wrenched back, scraping against the skin of her finger before catching on the bend of her finger. The sickening snap that followed could be felt throughout her hand, arm, neck and spine which sent tingles running along every nerve fibre she owned. She couldn't be sure if he meant to break her finger or not but when she dared to open her watering eyes and look up at her husband, there was very little remorse in his eyes.

She'd shown him up in front of his clients, the people who were supposed to fear him and bow down to him were almost mocking him because of her. He wasn't about to be sorry for breaking her finger after that.

"One more slip up and I won't hesitate to punish you, sweetheart."

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (22/?)

AO3 link: here

“Hey, Kirako-san?”

I knocked quietly against the open doorway of the clerk room and poked my head into the room. Kirako was sitting by the window with her laptop open, clearly engrossed in shopping for a new collar for her cat, “Mii-chan,” and she jumped when I called her name a little louder.

“Kirako-san?”

“I’m working hard, I swear!” she shrieked, rapidly closing a bunch of windows all at once. “Don’t write me up!!”

“Relax, Kirako-san,” I laughed, “it’s just me. I’m not going to tell anyone what you were doing but if I were you...”

I looked around and lowered my voice to a whisper.

“I wouldn’t go with that fuchsia collar,” I said, grinning, “It’ll clash with the orange in Mii-chan’s fur.”

“You think?” Kirako groused as I nodded firmly.

She sighed.

“Still, I’m glad it’s just you, Kyou-chan,” she mumbled, putting her hand on her chest and leaning back in her chair. “Kunikida-san would have my head for sure if he caught me shopping during work hours. Do you need something from me?”

I nodded.

It had been almost a full day since the explosion at Yamazaki Shuji’s second apartment. As the firefighters continued to put out the flames, Kunikida and I went back to Katai’s place, retrieved a small handful of printouts and then immediately returned to the Agency. I decided to leave the black access card with Katai, in case he needed it for something else and Katai, for his part, agreed to call me back the minute he found something new, in exchange for nothing more than a simple grocery run.

“I don’t like to leave the house,” he’d mumbled quietly before burrowing back into his futon like a hibernating bear in a cave.

With Katai’s printouts to guide me, I spent the rest of yesterday afternoon trying to find anything else I could on the aliases “Tsushima Shuji” and “Yamazaki Shuji.” Unfortunately, I couldn’t find much beyond what Katai had already figured out. I ended up staying a full hour past the end of my shift, alternating between manically searching the internet and hitting my head against my desk in frustration until a very concerned Atsushi shook me and insisted I call it quits for the day.

But just when I thought I was going to be at a dead end, I remembered this morning that Kunikida and Dazai had been the ones to orchestrate Mrs. Yamazaki’s relocation. If they’d done it shortly after I’d first informed them of her upcoming murder, then they were sure to have documented their proceedings somewhere, as part of the paperwork they did when they finished a case—my case.

I’d run so fast to the clerk room that I’d nearly tripped on my way there.

So here I was, standing before Kirako, with my fingers crossed in my burgundy skirt pocket, hoping that she might have something for me.

“I’m looking for my case files.”

Kirako adjusted her glasses and squinted at me through her bright pink frames.

“But... you haven’t turned them in yet,” she said, sounding confused.

“No, not those,” I said, shaking my head. “The files Dazai-san and Kunikida-san turned in when they rescued me from Akutagawa at the art gallery.”

Kirako’s forest-green eyes widened.

“You want those?”

For a second, she looked uncomfortable.

“Uh. Kyou-chan... You sure you want those?” she asked again, staring doubtfully at me. “Most people generally avoid looking at their own case files... depending on who wrote the reports, they’re not always that flattering...”

“I’m sure,” I said firmly, “And I’m not after my own information, I’m trying to look into Yamazaki Tomie-san, my old neighbor.”

“Your old neighbor?” she asked, turning back to the computer and pulling up the filing software. “Are you just looking out of curiosity? Because this says she’s been relocated to Nagano.”

“Yeah, I know about that,” I admitted, “But is there anything else on her? Or her husband? Anything that Dazai-san or Kunikida-san might’ve filed around the time when I joined?”

“Let’s check...”

Kirako began typing but when she found what she was looking for, I heard a sound like a buzzer. I glanced over her shoulder at a grayed-out file. It looked a little like the hidden files Katai had dug up on Mr. Yamazaki yesterday.

“What’s that noise?” I asked curiously.

Kirako frowned.

“That’s weird,” she mumbled, clicking the mouse again. “It looks like the file is locked.”

“Locked?” I repeated incredulously, staring at the screen in shock. “But you’re the highest ranking clerk—you have access to everything! How could it be locked?”

“I don’t know,” Kirako said quietly, clicking through, “it’s probably some kind of error. Either that or whoever wrote it made it so that only they or President Fukuzawa could open it, which doesn’t happen too often...”

She shot me an apologetic look.

“We can ask IT to look into it but for now, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

I slapped my hand over my face and groaned as Kirako clicked through a few more screens.

“You know,” she said, scrolling through what seemed to be a separate document, “from the looks of this bit here, Yamazaki Tomie-san might actually be in witness protection. If that’s the case, I’m not sure how much you’re going to be able to find on her here with us...”

She glanced up at me.

“Why are you looking into her right now?” she asked. Her features softened into a sympathetic smile. “Do you miss her, Kyou-chan? If you just want to talk to her, I’m sure it can wait.”

“I did think about reaching out yesterday,” I admitted, thinking back to my conversation with Kyouka and Atsushi about bento boxes, “but this has something to do with my current case. The company that hired me and Dazai-san thinks her husband stole a lot of money from them.”

Kirako’s eyes shot up into her bangs.

“Really? Well, if that’s the case, maybe you could try the police department? If he’s a known criminal, they might have something?”

I chewed my cheek.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea...”

If Mr. and Mrs. Yamazaki were in some kind of trouble with the Port Mafia or the criminal underworld, then asking the police could draw more unwanted attention to them. And even if that weren’t the case, if Mrs. Yamazaki was in witness protection, there’s no way someone like me, an employee of a private detective agency, would be allowed access to that kind of information, no matter how important Ranpo-san liked to say we were.

Not to mention, the last time I checked in with the police, I ended up being confronted by Akutagawa and nearly getting my legs chopped off...

“Wait...” I mumbled, suddenly remembering something. “Maybe Dazai-san has her information. He’s the one who told me she relocated, after all, maybe he has her phone number—”

“Whose number would I have?” a familiar tenor voice chirped from behind me.

I whirled.

“Dazai-san!”

For once, I was actually happy to see him and it must’ve shown on my face because the bandaged brunette brightened up instantly.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise!” he declared, his chocolate-brown eyes sparkling as he regarded me. “Now why can’t you smile this sweetly for me every time I see you?”

“Do you happen to have Yamazaki Tomie-san’s phone number by any chance?” I asked, choosing to ignore his previous remark. “You know, my old neighbor?”

One of Dazai’s dark eyebrows quirked upwards into his messy bangs.

“No...? Why would I have that?” he asked blankly.

As usual, he wasn’t wearing his trench coat while he was in the office and he crossed his bandaged arms with a confused look on his face.

“She’s married. And a bit old for me, don’t you think?”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Normally, I wouldn’t hesitate to call him out for being too flirty for his own good but right now, I needed something from him and it was probably wisest to stay on his good side.

“I just thought,” I said slowly, “that you might have it since you were the last person to come into contact with her after... the incident at the art gallery.”

“Ohhh, I see,” Dazai murmured, rubbing his chin. “You’re trying to check up on her, aren’t you? Well, sorry to disappoint you, Kusunoki-kun, but I don’t have it.”

I felt my shoulders droop in disappointment.

“But if you like...” Dazai offered, that impish grin sliding back onto his face, “I could help you track her down. In exchange for a small favor, of course.”

“You’re going to help me find her,” I said, smiling as pleasantly as possible, “because it’s relevant to our case. I went over to Katai-san’s yesterday and—”

“That’s right!” Dazai suddenly exclaimed, clapping his hands together in excitement, “How did everything go with Kunikida-kun yester—”

I slapped both my hands over his mouth to stop him from saying anything further and shot a horrified look over my shoulder at Kirako, who, thankfully, only looked confused.

“Dazai-san.”

There was an edge to my smile and without removing one of my hands from his mouth, I started pushing him out the door.

“Could I speak to you about our case? In private?”

Without waiting for him to answer, I pushed him right past the threshold and nodded politely to Kirako as we left. I didn’t take my hand off Dazai’s mouth (ugh, this felt so weird) until I’d pushed him into the conference room. This time, however, I didn’t lock the door.

“What are you doing?!” I snapped, all patience exhausted. “Why would you bring up Kunikida-san in front of Kirako-san?! I thought you said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“I wasn’t going to!” Dazai claimed, looking affronted, “I just wanted to know what you found out at Katai’s place.”

As I eyed him suspiciously, Dazai put up both hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Well, it turns out, Tsushima Shuji and Yamazaki Shuji are the same person,” I told him. “Katai managed to get into the company employee files and I recognized the ID photo he pulled up. It looks like it was taken a few decades ago, around the time Shuji-san and Tomie-san got married. They must’ve moved here from Nagano when Tanaka Investments hired him.”

“So he’s been working at the company this whole time,” Dazai mumbled, tapping his chin. “Interesting.”

“What about you, Dazai-san?” I asked, putting a hand on my hip. “I didn’t see you all afternoon yesterday—”

“Oh?”

Dazai suddenly perked up, taking his hand off his chin.

“Did you miss me, my sweet—?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” I cut him off, slapping away his hands before he could put them somewhere I’d make him regret. “I’m asking you what you found yesterday while I was talking to Katai-san. He said he was going to try to trace everything he could of Yamazaki Shuji today and that he’d call me once he’d finished but I’d like to hear what you found.”

I crossed my arms and fixed him with a suspicious look.

“You said you were going out to talk to some information brokers yesterday, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you actually stayed at my desk all day, huffing my markers or something? And no—”

I jabbed a finger in his face like he was a misbehaving dog. Dazai had suddenly looked a little too excited at the prospect of digging through my desk for Sharpies.

“I’m not going to let you do that,” I stressed. “For one, it’s not going to kill you, just get you high as a kite, and two, you’ll dry them out and then I won’t be able to use them any more.”

I crossed my arms as Dazai wilted visibly and let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m not going to go through your desk,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his bandaged neck. “Not for markers, anyway. But you’re right, that’s not important. We should talk about what I learned about Shuji-san.”

He pulled out a chair for me and gestured for me to sit.

Making a mental note to move anything even remotely toxic out of my desk and into my locker, I also let out a heavy sigh and sat.

“So my information corroborates yours,” Dazai said, pulling out his own chair and scooting noisily against the tiles until he was squished up right next to me in the large, empty conference room.

He took out a set of papers from inside his black vest and put them down on the long table in front of us.

“Yamazaki Shuji does appear to be our target’s real name. He grew up in Nagano, where he met his wife, Tomie-san, then relocated with her to Yokohama when Tanaka Investments scouted him. Over the years, he rose up through the ranks until he became one of their most senior accountants and account managers.”

Dazai placed another document on the table.

“According to these records, Shuji-san took a lot of business trips abroad and was rarely at the company. His last visit to the company headquarters took place about a month ago.”

“Wait a second,” I said, shifting the set of papers on the table. “Katai-san says Shuji-san seems to have disappeared off the face of the Earth a month ago, but his card was used to get building access two nights ago—the night before the bombing.”

I glanced up at Dazai.

“That means someone used his card to get into the building—probably to set the bomb that nearly got us yesterday.”

Dazai nodded.

“I assume you saw the dead bird in the trash can?” he asked, leaning one bandaged arm on the table as he looked at me, his striped shirt sleeve scuffing up one set of the documents.

“I did,” I replied, trying to shove his arm off the papers but he wouldn’t budge. I gave up. “President Tanaka must’ve tightened security because he’s afraid someone’s after him. And given there was that bombing at Shuji-san’s second apartment, I can’t blame him.”

Dazai raised an eyebrow.

“‘Second’ apartment?” he asked, “Why do you call it that?”

“Because,” I said, surprised.

He hadn’t figured it out?

“His first apartment is the one he shared with his wife, down the hall where I lived.”

Dazai grew quiet. He seemed to be scrutinizing me very carefully and for just a moment, the look in his bright brown eyes appeared to be one of pity. At once, I frowned.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Kusunoki,” Dazai began.

He tapped his fingers against the table as he studied me.

“Let me ask you a question. It’s a philosophical question but, please, humor me for a second.”

“What?” I asked, taken aback. “A philosophy question? Now?”

Dazai nodded and at the look in his eyes, I was struck silent.

I’d seen the expression in those clear brown eyes once before, the night I was rescued from the gallery. It was the same look Dazai had given me when I was holding that glass shard to my own neck... like he was seeing something in me that I didn’t want to see in myself...

The brightly lit room suddenly felt warm and stuffy. My heart began to race.

“...What is it?”

“It’s from an old book I read once,” Dazai said, still staring deep into my eyes, “Let’s say for nine years, I had an apple. I believed it was a goodly apple but after possessing it for those nine years and one day, I discover that it is rotten to its core.”

He lowered his gaze momentarily, his thick, dark bangs dropping just a little over his eyes.

“Had been the whole time, actually, even though I had not been aware of it,” he said, smiling softly to no one in particular.

I could barely breathe.

“Would it be fair to say then,” Dazai continued, glancing back up at me, “that I had possessed for nine years, a goodly apple?”

“I...”

I looked away.

“I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“I think you do.”

And with that, Dazai gently laid one large, half bandaged hand over mine. My heart stopped as the weight of his hand settled against it.

“Answer my question, Kusunoki,” he said gently. “Did I, for those nine years, possess a goodly apple?”

His fingers closed around mine.

“Dazai...?”

I felt a lump forming in my throat as I stared back into his deep brown eyes.

Was he really asking about an apple...?

I could tell Dazai was waiting patiently for my answer, so with some difficulty, I swallowed and opened my mouth to speak. I couldn’t bring myself to move my hand out from under his.

“I think...” I replied slowly, “that it was. A goodly apple that is. You spent nine good years with it, didn’t you? And it brought you joy.”

“Joy?” Dazai asked, his dark brows drawing together momentarily in thought.

“Yes.”

I studied his face as I answered.

“They say time heals all wounds. I’m sure you will always remember the moment you found out about the rotten core, but as time passes, the pain will start to fade and you’ll be left with the memories of those nine good years instead. And if it’s the nine years you remember best, then...”

I smiled and Dazai’s dark eyes widened just a fraction. His hand twitched where it lay over mine.

“Yes. It was a goodly apple.”

“Kyou...” Dazai breathed.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Dazai was staring at me as if he had never properly seen my face before and I felt my face warm under the intensity of his stare. And in that moment, the curtains behind his dark eyes seemed to lift... and I found myself once again seeing a side of Dazai that I’d only caught fleeting glimpses of before...

It was the same Dazai who pulled away from me yesterday morning, when I’d reached back to place my hand over his.

And the same lonely Dazai who’d walked me home that cold, spring night...

... and asked me to join him in double suicide.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Hey... Dazai?”

I bit my lip.

“Are you okay? Why did you ask me this question?”

At once, Dazai smiled. The curtains came down like a steel door and his mask snapped back into place. It all happened so quickly that I was left wondering what I had just seen—and if I had actually seen anything at all.

Dazai’s smile softened and he slowly leaned in.

“I’m fine,” he whispered sweetly, giving my hand a light, affectionate squeeze. “But is that your final answer, Kyou-chan? Do you really believe in the healing power of time so strongly?”

“I—I do,” I stammered, my heart suddenly beating faster than before as his eyes seemed to darken. “I mean, of course I do. Why—”

My voice caught in my throat and I cleared it lightly to try to stop the words from sticking.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked, “when my own Ability allows me to see the future?”

Dimly, I thought back to Saeki Mei from the convenience store, the woman who had been kidnapped during my first case. I thought about how I’d seen a vision of her in the summer, through the old manager’s eyes. Mei would be laughing and jogging and wearing new blonde highlights in her pitch-black hair when she returned in July. And Mei would be back. The manager had assured me of this.

“I’ve seen it,” I said at last, staring back into his eyes. “I’ve seen people heal.”

“That’s good,” Dazai said quietly, still watching me with that inscrutable look in his eyes. He started leaning in close. “Good to hear...”

“Um, Dazai...?” I whispered, my heart beating so loud I was sure he could hear it too. “Sh-shouldn’t we go back to talking about the case...?”

“Case?” Dazai repeated absentmindedly.

The sound of someone knocking on the conference room door drew my attention and Dazai and I looked up as one as Tanizaki Junichiro poked his head into the room.

“Oh, there you are, Kusunoki-san,” he said.

I saw his eyes shift towards the table, where Dazai’s hand still lay over mine and at once, I shifted and pulled my hand back. Dazai, however, hadn’t moved.

“I was looking for you,” Tanizaki continued, opening the door further and stepping fully into the room.

He jerked a thumb behind him towards the direction of the main lobby.

“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind cleaning up the area around your desk a little. We’re expecting some deliveries this afternoon and Kunikida-san asked us to keep the main office space clear for it...”

He glanced at the set of printouts spread out across the table.

“Unless, of course, you’re discussing a case and you’re busy? I can come back later, you know.”

“No, it’s okay!” I said, jumping to attention the instant Kunikida’s name crossed Tanizaki’s lips. “I can help. Unless...”

I shot an annoyed glance at Dazai, who quickly stifled an audible snicker behind one half-bandaged hand.

“...we need to do this now?”

“No, it can wait,” Dazai said, the ghost of his laughter still visible in the smile on his face.

He pulled out a handheld gaming console from somewhere underneath the desk and started up some sort of game, ignoring me as I frowned at him.

So that’s why he chose to sit here—he must’ve taped all sorts of weird toys and things under the table so he wouldn’t get bored during conferences.

It wasn’t necessarily because he was trying to get close to me...

“Uh, Kusunoki-san?” Tanizaki prompted me, “You still coming?”

“Yeah!” I replied, not understanding where the strange sense of disappointment was coming from. I turned to look at Dazai, who was now sitting with his feet on the table, almost scuffing the printouts, fully immersed in playing his game.

“Guess I’ll get going then?”

Without looking up at me, Dazai nodded. He pursed his lips in concentration and continued madly pushing at the buttons on his console.

“Yeah, sure, go,” he said in between spurts of frantic button mashing. “Let’s pick this back up when I’ve beaten this second boss—I mean, when you’re done out there.”

Victory music blasted from the speakers and Dazai let out a raucous cheer. He put down the device for just a second and winked.

“Go impress Kunikida-kun.”

“You—!”

I bit back my retort as I saw the look of confusion on Tanizaki’s face. I slapped a hand over my face and sighed.

“Never mind. See you later, Dazai-san.”

“Ciao!”

Rolling my eyes, I followed Tanizaki out the door as the sounds of video game music resumed playing.

“Oh, and Kusunoki-kun?”

I turned back slightly at the sound of Dazai’s voice.

“Yes?”

I heard fight music playing over the speakers of Dazai’s gaming console. He met my gaze and smiled.

“There’s no need to worry about Yamazaki Tomie-san. I checked in on her nephew a few days ago and she’s doing well. She said to tell you ‘hi.’”

I brought my hand up to my mouth.

“Dazai-san...!”

He actually went and checked on her?

“Thank you,” I said, smiling warmly at him. “That’s... surprisingly sweet of you.”

“I can be full of surprises,” Dazai quipped, grinning cheekily. “Have fun!”

And with that, he went back to his game. Still smiling, I let the door close behind me, the tinny sounds of electronic bells and whistles disappearing as the conference room sealed itself once more.

***

“So what kind of deliveries are we expecting today?” I asked as Tanizaki shuffled about the empty main office with a simple broom and dustpan in his hands.

It was relatively early in the afternoon but it seemed everyone was out. Everyone except for me, Tanizaki, Dazai, and Kirako, anyway. Kunikida had apparently left Tanizaki in charge of the main office area (his sister was out running shopping errands for the office) and Kirako in charge of the clerks while a few of the detectives accompanied President Fukuzawa to escort a foreign diplomat around Yokohama. Because Dazai and I were working on a relatively big case, we were allowed to remain. Everyone else, it seemed, was out working in the field. I paused my own sweeping to glance over at Kyouka’s desk, which had been refurbished and delivered yesterday, just before I started this case with Dazai.

“Is someone else getting an improved desk?”

“No, but we’re getting some new equipment,” Tanizaki replied, sweeping towards the main door. “First thing coming this afternoon is a fancy new printer, the kind with the copier built in. Haruno-san’s been asking for it for months and Kunikida-san finally caved.”

“Ah.” I smiled. “Good for her.”

I might not have been with the Agency long, but even a couple of weeks was enough for me to find out how difficult it was to get Kunikida to spend money. That man watched the budget like accounting was his second job... which it probably was, I realized with a silent grimace.

If I was doing the math correctly (I might not be, I still remembered that overblown math lesson Kunikida gave me after I passed my Entrance Exam), the overall costs from my Entrance Exam still might not have been recovered yet. Not by me alone, anyway.

“By the way, how did everything go yesterday?” Tanizaki asked with a friendly smile.

“Dazai’s lying!!” I exclaimed in a rush, squeezing my broom handle so tightly in my hands that it nearly bent. “I don’t know what you heard but it’s not true! It was all professional, I swear!!”

Tanizaki blinked at me in confusion, then slowly and steadily started backing away.

“Uhh, okay,” he said slowly, putting his broom up defensively, the way one might when facing a dangerous animal, “I didn’t hear anything in particular, just that you met with Katai-san and you needed to talk to him about your case?”

“Oh,” I breathed out, instantly settling down. “Oh, right. Yeah, everything went fine.”

Hoping it would put Tanizaki at ease, I laughed a little.

“Katai-san is an interesting person, isn’t he?” I said, resuming my sweeping. “I heard he used to work for the Agency, years ago and it seems the only person he really keeps in touch with is Kunikida-san. Have you met Katai-san, Tanizaki-kun?”

At once, Tanizaki’s face darkened and I actually flinched when I saw the murderous look in his red-tinted eyes.

“Yeah, I have,” the redhead growled, nearly snapping his broom in half as he recalled some offensive incident. “I’d heard he gets really weird around girls but I’ll never forget the shit he pulled around Naomi. The way he stared at her...”

His grip tightened on his broom handle and this time, it was my turn to back away from Tanizaki as he trailed off and fumed in silence. Yosano had warned me never to ask any questions about the Tanizaki siblings’ relationship and I thought it best to take her advice. Two weeks in the Agency was more than enough for me to guess...

“I-it’s lucky I wasn’t exactly Katai-san’s type, then huh?” I tried to joke.

Although Katai had thought I was Kunikida’s...

Just thinking about it made my face burn so I looked away and continued sweeping.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Tanizaki mumbled, making his way towards the trash can by the client booth.

He set his broom against the stained glass paneling and opened up the lid

“So you’re making progress on your case, then?” Tanizaki asked as I nodded and joined him by the trash bin. “That’s good. It seems like a tough one. Tougher still since you’re working with Dazai-san. I mean.”

He elbowed me slightly and laughed.

“Speaking of men who get weird around girls, am I right?”

Tanizaki continued chuckling to himself as I emptied my dustbin into the trash but I couldn’t bring myself to return the laugh.

Dazai was definitely the worst kind of flirt but there was something about him back there, something different from his usual antics. Nobody had ever looked at me the way Dazai had just now... like he was trying—really trying—to get to know me. Like he was utterly fascinated by me...

And that he really liked what he saw...

I put down the dustbin and broom and stared into the trash, at the ashes from the fire Dazai had set yesterday.

Why had he asked me that question...? He clearly hadn’t been asking me about a literal apple but why did Dazai want to ask about my worldview so suddenly? And why did he seem so surprised by my answer?

So genuinely surprised... and pleased?

I bit my lip as I thought about the way his hand had rested against mine and how I hadn’t moved away.

I hadn’t moved away because I didn’t want to...

Why?

Why does my heart beat so fast when he looks at me like that...?

Why does his smile make me want to stop and stare at him for hours on end?

I closed my eyes and tried to put the thoughts out of my head but no sooner had I done so than a memory floated back to me—the memory of the day I’d met Dazai—the way he’d smiled when he handed me my drawing, the way his eyes had sparkled when he’d caught me staring...

I put my hand up to my face and covered my eyes.

Why can’t I stop thinking about him all of a sudden?

The only man I liked was Kunikida... and only Kunikida...

Right...?

“Kusunoki-san?” Tanizaki asked, sounding confused and slightly concerned when I suddenly and violently twitched, as if I were falling asleep on my feet and abruptly woke back up.

He leaned over to peer into the trash with me.

“What are you looking at? Oh.”

He wrinkled his nose and sighed when he saw the charred ring of residue in the metal bin.

“The fire, huh? Yeah it’s a good thing you weren’t here when Dazai did that. I swear to God, all hell broke loose right before lunch yesterday. Kunikida basically lost it—you should’ve heard him yelling and screaming—”

“Should I take this outside and wash it?” I asked, pointing to the can but Tanizaki was already shaking his head.

“Nah, you don’t need to. We can ask the building janitor to take care of it. Then again...”

He studied my face, looking slightly concerned.

“If you need a breath of fresh air,” he said, “we could always just make a quick trip to the larger bins out back. I’ll take these. Why don’t you go to the shredders by the printer and see what you can get?”

Nodding furiously, I hurried off towards the printers—only to trip on the very trash can I’d just offered to clean up. I fell to the ground with an undignified squawk of surprise, spilling ashes and scraps of paper everywhere as the trash can rolled away on its side. I leaped to my feet.

“Sorry!” I exclaimed, scrambling to clean up the mess I’d just made. “Let me get this—”

“That’s fine, but you don’t have to use your hands!” Tanizaki cried, looking frantic and now more worried than ever. “Kusunoki, what’s going on? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I insisted, picking up scraps of paper and flinging them into the trash, completely disregarding Tanizaki’s protests. “This was my fault so I’ll...”

I trailed off as my eyes landed on a name on one of the larger scraps of paper. The corner was burned and there were dried chunks of fire extinguisher foam on the black ink of the text, but I could still make out the words.

It was an autopsy report, forwarded to the Armed Detective Agency by request of one of the detectives looking into an open case.

The name of the victim: Yamazaki Tomie.

And the detective who had requested the report...

Dazai Osamu.