#he should have simply gone back to the drawing board but we can’t all be Lyricist Steve. that’s a different stephen

[chronotopes]

So much of the charm of wicked for me is the multitude of lyrics that could have been written by a precocious teen even though they were actually just written by stephen schwartz. “All helpful urges should be circumvented” “If she’d let him fighthisownbattles whenhewasyoung hewouldntbeacoward TODAAAAY” “like some terrible green blizzard throughout the land she flies” “I wanna be in this hoi polloi”

[cryoculus]

— people pleaser ⟢

pairing: thoma x ex-assassin!reader

summary: it’s been three weeks since you left for yashiori island, and saying that thoma was stoked to have you back was an understatement. but as the days passed, he noticed something quite...distressing.

word count: 5.7k words

notable characters: thoma, kamisato ayaka, kamisato ayato, gorou, yae miko

tags: jealousy, misunderstandings, light angst, suggestive themes

notes: this is a guard dog side story that was written for thoma's birthday back in january 2022!

masterlist

“Miss Kira!”

Naturally, Thoma was the first to greet you by the gates once you and Ayato finally made it back. He took it upon himself to take the bag you brought off your hands, beaming at you like a puppy who just met its owner after being gone all day. Well, in hindsight, that’s not too far-off an analogy.

You shot him a tired smile, lacing your arms around his neck to peck him on the cheek. “Hey, pretty boy. Did you miss me?”

“You bet,” he replied with a chuckle before pulling away to turn to Ayato. “I’m glad to see you’re well, too, my lord. Any progress with the investigation?”

The Yashiro Commissioner heaved a long-winded sigh, handing his own luggage to the other guards. “Barely. Locating the wards was quite tricky. We had Doctor Shinya with us, too. He’s a learned gentleman from the Sumeru Academia, so if he can’t locate them even with the guidance of our Yashiori native, Miss Kira, then it’s best if we went back to the drawing board.”

Thoma nodded in understanding. “I see. No wonder you got back so early. But is it really alright to leave the Tatarigami unattended?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you insisted, patting him on the shoulder. “‘Yato over here made good on the diplomatic interventions you and milady have been overseeing in his stead. He talked some former resistance soldiers into keeping an eye out for the situation. So it’s all good.”

…Alright, Thoma was more than glad to hear that Ayaka’s efforts to restore Narukami’s relationship with the Sangonomiya faction have borne fruit. But did you just call the head of the Kamisato House ‘Yato?

Ayato didn’t seem fazed by this, though—chuckling as you all headed inside. “It’s as the lady says. Sangonomiya Kokomi has agreed to cooperate with the ongoing investigation, since the Tatarigami also poses a threat to the safety of her own citizens.”

You snorted. “We nearly got kicked out of Sangonomiya Shrine when you criticized the way they prepared their sashimi, though. I know you’re a big shot and all, but you should seriously keep things to yourself sometimes.”

“I did no such thing. I simply suggested that it would be better if they served them fresh!”

“That’s not how the shrine maidens saw it…”

Thoma was no stranger to conversations that had nothing to do with him, and thus couldn’t relate to. It’s a staple for a chief retainer to stand on the sidelines and simply let his charge do all the talking. But the…familiar way in which you addressed Ayato was something entirely new to him. He didn’t think you’d ever spoken to someone else in the estate (someone that wasn’t Thoma, at least) in the same, animated manner you conversed with the Commissioner. Despite being officially hailed as a retainer of the house, you still had your reservations for the people that got close to you.

He used to pride himself for being one of the select few you’d fully put your faith in, but…

“Now that you mentioned it, I did come off as too forward for someone that’s already asking for a favor,” Ayato sighed. “This is why I let Ayaka handle all the formalities instead. Let’s send them an…apology package, shall we?”

“Sure. I’ll help you pick some stuff out in the city after I get a good night’s sleep,” you said. “Gods know it wasn’t exactly comfortable sharing a tent with you of all people.”

The moment the words left your lips, Thoma felt his brain short-circuit and jumpstart back into motion right after. You and Ayato shared a tent. For three weeks. His girlfriend slept in the same, close proximity as his lord. And they were acting completely casual about it!

This is probably just nothing, he assured himself—albeit poorly. Right…?

Thoma took all of that in stride. Of course he did. He’s Thoma—the level-headed, even-tempered housekeeper of the Kamisato House! It’s in his job description to take things in stride. So when he decided to tail you and Ayato to your impromptu shopping trip to Inazuma City the next day, his actions didn’t bear any ill will at all!   

He was as discreet as a Mondstadter could be smack in the middle of Inazuma. Making himself scarce was something that Thoma has had trouble with for the longest time. Everything about him screamed outlander no matter how much he tried to dress himself up as a local. But you and Ayato didn’t seem privy to his advances—sampling dishes from Kiminami Restaurant without a care in the world. 

You weren’t really up to anything suspicious so far. But the fact that Ayato insisted that you two go out without any guards was already worth looking into. It didn’t help that you hadn’t spoken a word about this before heading to bed either. 

To Thoma’s relief, you still opted to sleep in his room last night like you always did before. The feel of you snuggling against his body underneath the sheets was a feeling he missed so much, he could almost cry. So even if he wanted to break the ice by asking how you and Ayato had suddenly grown closer, the chief retainer couldn’t stand the idea of ruining the cozy atmosphere that he hasn’t felt in weeks. Besides, he might just be reading into it too much. Thoma does that a lot these days. 

“Hm? Thoma? Is that you?”

He nearly jumped out of the bush he was hiding in at the sound of another voice, hiding the binoculars (that he definitely didn’t steal from your drawer) from view. However, when Thoma saw who exactly caught him stalking you from such a high vantage point like a psychopath, he could only crane his head in confusion.

“General Gorou?” he half-asked, half-greeted. “What brings you here?”

“Um,” he began awkwardly, ears perking up. “This is my hiding spot, too, so…��

Thoma didn’t even know where to begin asking about the general’s predicament, but he decided not to press the matter. This wasn’t the first time he’s spoken to Gorou—given the peace talks he was mandated to attend by Ayaka’s side. But this was definitely the first he’s seen him loitering around the city.

“Who are you…?” Gorou squinted from the cliff’s edge where Thoma decided to conduct his stakeout, following it up with a quick— “Oh.”

“...Don’t tell me you see them from all the way up here.”

“Don’t tell me you’re performing an espionage mission on your own charge!”

Oh, right. Of course Gorou would focus on Ayato; not you. 

“I’m not,” he explained. “I’m just…”

For a moment, Thoma considered unloading the troubles he’s been harboring since yesterday onto this not-so stranger. Gorou wasn’t someone who he saw on the regular, so surely it wouldn’t hurt to confide his girl-problems in the guy? Besides, from his contributions to the peace talks alone, Thoma could tell he was someone who gave top-tier advice. 

But before he could even speak a word, Gorou suddenly froze up—body reflexively easing into a defensive stance. “Tch… My apologies, but I’ll have to make an abrupt leave or else she’ll catch me.”

“...She?”

The general immediately bolted away from the shrubs, scampering back to the streets of Inazuma City and leaving Thoma more clueless than he was to begin with. 

When Thoma glanced back at Kiminami Restaurant through the binoculars, he realized that you and Ayato had already left in the midst of his chance meeting with Gorou. Great. Now he had no one to stake out for. 

“You there.”

Thoma jolted in surprise once again—immediately assuming that an officer from the Tenryou Commission was probably going to scold him for going over the fences. But when he whirled around, it wasn’t a bulky soldier that greeted his sight, but rather a familiar shrine maiden with a cunning air to her.

“Have you seen a little fox boy running around?” Yae Miko asked with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We have a deadline coming up soon, and he just keeps slipping right underneath my nose. What a pain, that one.”

“Uhh…” Something told him Gorou was going to be very happy if Thoma did him a solid right here, right now. “Nope. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Lady Guuji.”

She sighed, crossing her arms with a resigned look. “Well, frankly, I can’t be bothered to chase after him now. How about you entertain me instead, Kamisato retainer?”

It took him a moment to realize that Yae Miko actually remembered who he was, and Thoma swallowed the lump in his throat before hopping back over the fence—leaving the binoculars hidden in the shrubs to retrieve later.

“How may I be of service?” he asked nervously.

Yae Miko gave him a single look that was enough to make any lesser man cower. It’s a good thing he regularly accompanied Ayaka to her meetings with the priestess at the shrine. Else, Thoma might’ve grovelled at her feet from the pressure of her gaze alone.

“Give me your palm, would you?” she requested softly. 

Thoma blinked. “Pardon?”

“Your palm, boy. I’d like to read it.”

He still didn’t fully understand what she was trying to make him do, but Thoma unfastened the harnesses on his right glove—flexing his fingers a bit before extending it to Yae Miko. The priestess took his hand in her much softer ones, and while the other men from the Yashiro Commission preferred women who were soft to the touch, he’d developed a fondness for your calloused palms. The same hands that he held in his own during colder nights or a simple stroll around Ritou. The same hands he wouldn’t mind holding for the rest of his life.

Wait. Why was he thinking about you when—

“You’re a fire elemental,” Yae Miko murmured, tracing the lines on his palm firmly. “That explains the Pyro Vision, yes. Hmm… Good vitality, strong mental constitution, relatively stable, and… Oh?”

Thoma felt his stomach drop. He did not like the sound of that.

“I-Is anything wrong, Lady Guuji?” he asked dryly.

The priestess continued running her finger along his palms, as if tracing a poem out of his skin. She had a hint of a smile playing on her lips, but Thoma knew better than to deduce a kitsune’s intentions from their facial expressions alone. 

“Your other lines are in order, but your heart line… Quite shallow,” Yae Miko sighed, shaking her head. “This means you’re more sensitive and vulnerable than the rest. For someone who’s stood by Kamisato Ayaka’s side all this time, this is quite the surprise. You’ve always come off as a level-headed person to me, but I suppose living here as an outlander makes your heart waver every so often. Am I right?”

…How on earth did she find all that out just by reading his palms?

“From the look on your face, I can tell that you’re going through something unpleasant as well,” she continued, letting go of his hand with a stern look. “I don’t know the specifics but it would be good to actually speak to the person or people involved. There’s no point in punishing yourself with uncertainty when their reassurance is readily attainable. Isn’t that right, Kamisato retainer?”

Now he knew why some of the shrine maidens at the estate spoke of Yae Miko with a hint of fear in their words. She was way too perceptive!

“It’s an honor to receive direct counsel from you, Lady Guuji,” Thoma said with a small bow. “Thank you very much. I’ll make sure to reflect on it.”

“Oh, reflection alone won’t get you anywhere, sweet boy,” she chuckled behind her hand. “Rather, you should act on it. Playing the people pleaser can only last you for so long in a place like this. I’m sure you know that well—being an outlander and all.”

That hit a little too close to home, but Thoma didn’t make it evident on his face. “I understand. Thank you again.”

That day, Thoma decided against searching the city for yours and Ayato’s whereabouts. Instead, he went straight home and leveled the hedges faster than the time it would take for three people to do the job. Yae Miko’s words repeated themselves like a mantra in his head, and all he could do to cope was keep himself busy.

Playing the people pleaser can only last you so long in a place like this.

You and the Commissioner didn’t return until nightfall, and Thoma didn’t voice out a single complaint—receiving you and his charge with bright smiles and a warm welcome as usual. During dinner, though, he felt Ayaka’s gaze trailing after him every now and again. That was a telltale sign that the princess was catching on to whatever was bothering him, but Thoma had a tad too much pride to let her in on the situation.

After all, this was probably just nothing.

Right?

Things didn’t exactly get better in the next few days like he’d hoped.

You’ve been quite elusive as of late. You hadn’t slept in his room since the night you first came back, and while Thoma usually didn’t mind your independence, his…current predicament made going about this in a completely logical manner quite difficult. Your outings with Ayato have become more and more frequent than what he was accustomed to. The Commissioner had a penchant for holing himself in his room for days, and now he took public matters into his own hands?  

Another thing that startled him was the fact that you’re oh-so willing to tend to Ayato’s requests! Back then, you used to bemoan the workload and talked Thoma’s ear off about how much you wanted to quit despite the Kamisato clan’s good graces. Of course, you didn’t mean a single word. Both of you knew how attached you’ve gotten to this family, and peeling yourself away was more work than you’d otherwise expect.

But now, even when you weren’t busy, Thoma would catch you going up to Ayato’s study to do Archons-know-what. He wasn’t so terrible a person that he’d jump to conclusions about his lord doing unsightly things with his lover, but…

“Thoma.”

He sighed, casting a sidelong glance across the hall. “Yes, milady?”

Ayaka had that look on her face—the one that spelled you owe me an explanation for this—and Thoma wondered why he thought he could ever escape her scrutiny. This was Ayaka after all.

Wordlessly, he led her to the pavilion, where the fresh breeze wafted through the courtyard. They sat on the edge of the platform like they always did, since they were children. And as Thoma gazed out into the ocean below, Ayaka patiently waited for him to speak.

“Milady, what would you do if you thought your lover was…losing interest in you?” 

It’s not like Thoma never considered the possibility—in fact, he has. Multiple times. You used to be one of the underground’s renown assassins. Even if you’ve successfully adapted to your life as a retainer in such a short time, Thoma knew very well that you were still a lone wolf by heart. It wouldn’t come as a surprise to him if, one day, you decided that you didn’t need the Yashiro Commission—didn’t need him—anymore, and fled into the night. He didn’t like it when it felt like you were slipping out of his grasp. You already did once, and he feared that it was bound to happen again.

This definitely wasn’t a thought that occurred to Thoma on a daily basis. But whenever he did consider the idea of you leaving him behind…

Ayaka’s eyes widened slightly at his inquiry, and Thoma could almost hear the thought process occurring in that head of hers. What do you mean? Did you and Miss Kira have a fight? Is there anything I can do?

However, the reaction that he actually got was…far from what he imagined.

Ayaka pressed her lips together in an attempt to suppress a snort, startling when such an unbecoming noise came out of her before pressing a palm across her mouth. Thoma didn’t know whether he should be offended that she was laughing at his predicament or relieved because the Shirasagi Himegimi was finally letting herself express an extensive spectrum of emotions. Either way, Ayaka was quick to recover from that quick slip-up.

“And here I thought you might’ve been coming down with something,” she sighed, clearing her throat as she composed herself. “Thoma, what gave you the idea that Miss Kira was losing interest?”

“...You’re going to think I’m ridiculous.”

“I’m sure your reasons aren’t any more ridiculous than the list of complaints we receive from the citizens on the regular,” Ayaka reassured. “Now, go on. You’ve always heard me out when I have things I can’t get off my mind. It’s only proper for me to lend you an ear as well.”

Thoma closed his eyes. Yup. There was no escaping Kamisato Ayaka’s scrutiny. 

So, he told her. About how he noticed you and her brother have grown exponentially familiar with each other ever since your trip to Yashiori Island. How you’ve been avoiding him(?) as of late. He’s not very sure about that last one, since you still respond whenever Thoma calls out to you, but it’s as if you had more impending matters to attend to than paying attention to him. If he’d been any less understanding than he was, he would’ve sulked.

Ayaka listened to every word carefully, nodding every so often. And once Thoma was finished speaking, she breathed in deeply.

“I see. So that’s how things appeared on your end,” the princess lamented. “I’ll be the one to apologize on their behalf. Those two… You’re right about the fact that they have grown closer since Yashiori. But there's absolutely no reason for you to fret, Thoma.”

Thoma shot her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“What I’m saying is, Brother and Miss Kira are two people who, when they put their backs into planning something, give it their all so it would be a success.” Ayaka grinned. “That kind of explains why she’s been hard to come by lately. Although, you should be seeing the fruit of their labor very soon.”

“...That doesn’t make you sound cryptic at all, milady.”

She giggled behind the guise of her fan, and Thoma ultimately resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get any answers out of her anytime soon. 

“You’ll see~”

He hardly got a wink of sleep that night.

Thoma tossed and turned alone in his bed—wondering what in the seven nations you and Ayato had been cooking up to warrant this much of your time. Could it be pertaining to your investigations on Yashiori Island? Was it some sort of new and improved cure for the Tatarigami? He hadn’t the slightest clue, and he wasn’t getting anywhere near a logical explanation come morning either.

To his disappointment, Madarame had to get him out of bed because he’d overslept. This was something unusual for Thoma to experience because his circadian rhythm was as impeccable as Ayaka’s swordsmanship.  

(He humbly blames it on the lack of attention from his significant other.)

“Lord and Lady Kamisato have already gone out for the day,” Madarame explained as he and Thoma made their way to the courtyard. “But they did leave instructions for you to drop by Komore Teahouse once you’re able. It’s for an…urgent matter, so to speak.”

Thoma sighed. Great. Now there was another impending issue on his plate, when he hadn’t even sorted out his conflicted feelings about your recurring absence. Not that Madarame had to know about these tendencies of his. Nobody would believe it—the housekeeper of the Kamisato clan, craving the love and affection of his girlfriend like a kicked puppy.

“What of Miss Kira?” he asked, just in case. “Has she said anything?”

Madarame’s face scrunched up into an apologetic look. Thoma sighed.

“Thanks anyways,” he told him glumly. “I’ll head over to the city now. Hold down the fort while we’re gone, okay?”

“Of course.” Madarame bowed, but just as Thoma was about to turn on his heel to make his leave— “Oh, Master Thoma, one more thing.”

The chief glanced at the other man with one brow arched as he flashed him a sincere grin that only served to puzzle Thoma. “Yes?”

Then, earnestly, Madarame spoke: 

“Happy Birthday.”

Things just got more depressing, if that was even possible.

Thoma made the trip to the capital in several states of distress. He’d been so caught up in trying to wrap his head around yours and Ayato’s antics that he forgot today was his birthday. 

It didn’t help that it seemed he was the only one left in the dark. Ayato knew. You knew. Hell, even Ayaka knew what was going on. During last night’s bout of senseless overthinking, he considered ditching common courtesy and just straight up asking the princess all the things he wanted to know about. As strong-willed as she was, Ayaka was still quite meek. Thoma knew he could pressure some answers out of her given the right conditions, but he never once tried to do so in any other situation. Being a people pleaser, and all that. 

But now, he was at his limit. His lover obviously thought another man’s time was worth her while compared to Thoma’s. Even if Ayato loved and raised him like they were blood brothers, he couldn’t help the unshakeable feeling of resentment. Just one trip to Yashiori made them all smitten like that? When Thoma has been by your side far longer?

In the back of his head, an ominous voice reminded him that you and him only became more honest with your feelings after retrieving that cure from Yashiori all those months ago. 

Who knew Miss Kira was that easy? It hissed. She ditched you for Ayato on your birthday.

Shut up. Shut up, she’s not like that. 

Okay, having an internal argument with himself in broad daylight was all sorts of weird. But that extensive contemplation made Thoma fail to realize that he’d already arrived. 

Komore Teahouse has been the Yashiro Commission’s stronghold in the capital since time immemorial. Both Ayaka and Ayato preferred having business dealings in the discreet rooms of the shop rather than back at the estate. Not only was it carefully guarded by the Shuumatsuban, but it was more accessible compared to the manor in Mount Yougou.

The first thing Thoma noticed, however, was that nobody was stationed outside. Not Kozue, not Heihachi. Even that pesky Snezhnayan Ramsay was nowhere to be seen. 

All of a sudden, a chill ran across the length of his spine. The grisly that thought the Teahouse had been under siege crossed his mind as quick as lightning. Kozue would never leave her post for just any reason, so that was the most sound explanation he could think of. Hurriedly, the chief retainer slid the door to the shop open; hoping that this wasn’t where Ayaka and Ayato were headed for the day—

Pop!

Thoma could only stand by the doorway in stunned silence as a small blast of confetti hit him in the face. To his side, the Commissioner’s familiar face came to view—an unsuspecting party popper in his hands, before the rest of his company shouted:

“Happy Birthday!”

All around him, the familiar faces of friends, family, and comrades were present. Taroumaru was seated comfortably on his usual spot on the counter—holding up a sign that spelled Happy Birthday, Thoma! Ayaka was, surprisingly, in the company of none other than Yae Miko herself, a person he never thought he would see again so soon. She winked at him from behind the princess, as if telling him to keep a secret only they knew about. Yoimiya and Sayu have also joined the fray; with the former clapping her hands gleefully and the latter napping on top of the counter. 

And then there was you.

“Hey,” you greeted casually—holding a delectable-looking cake in your hands as Yoimiya took it upon herself to light the candles. “How’re you doing, guard dog?”

Thoma was at an utter loss for words. He gaped at you in silence, green eyes alight with surprise as he absentmindedly let you ease the cake into his hands.

“W-We’re both guard dogs,” he mumbled before promptly snapping out his trance. “Wait, what’s this? Don’t tell me…”

Ayaka chuckled from where she sat herself down in front of the counter. “Miss Kira and Brother have been putting together a surprise party for you, if that isn’t any more obvious than it already is.”

“We thought you’d appreciate the, ah, change in pace,” Ayato supplied, setting the party popper near the door as he crossed his arms. “You’ve been working so diligently these days, that you deserved as much.”

His lips quivered with the intent to speak, but no words were coming out. Thoma’s gaze darted around every person in the room, as if unable to get a grip on the reality before him—what the hell is Yae Miko doing here?!—until his emerald gaze landed on your form. 

You grinned. “What are you waiting for? The candles aren’t going to blow themselves y’know? Plus, we prepared an entire repertoire for your special day.”

The thought of you going out of your way just to prepare all this made a familiar warmth surge through his chest. Of course, he felt all the more guilty of thinking those nasty thoughts about what you were up to. But he supposed he could repent for that a bit later. The others looked on expectantly, and Thoma, who’d always been weak to the whims of others, heaved a sigh.

So he puckered his lips and blew out the candles.

“I am so sorry.”

Those were the first words that came out of his mouth once Thoma pulled you into another room in the Teahouse. You gawked at him, confused as your lover sank to his knees and bowed before you.

“You know, I’m not really into this sort of S&M play, right?” you told him as you sat in front of his repentant form on the tatami. “But do I want to ask what this is about?”

Thoma sat upright with a sigh, maintaining a certain distance given that he felt like he didn’t deserve to be near you at all after everything he just assumed… “I thought you didn’t want me anymore. You’ve been so busy with the Commissioner these past few days that I assumed—”

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold on a sec,” you interjected, palms raised. “Are you saying you thought Ayato and I hit it off or something?”

“...Yes?”

If the small snort that Ayaka gave him yesterday was disrespectful, the reaction he gained from you was downright insolent. You laughed your heart out until you were a giggling mess on the floor, wiping the tears in your eyes at the prospect of Thoma getting jealous of Ayato over something that he completely had the wrong idea about. 

“Okay, for the record, ‘Yato and I are just tight as hell. Like bro-bros, y’know?” you explained, and Thoma didn’t really understand your verbiage. “He’s the one who dragged me back to fix things when shit hit the fan, so he’s kind of like my voice of reason for a lot of things now…”

“That includes how I’m going to handle...us.”

Now, that caught his attention. “Pardon?”

You sighed, pulling yourself upright before scooting a bit to lean your head on his shoulder. “I’ve never nurtured any sort of stable relationship in the past, y’know? Zero experience. I’m terrified of messing up somewhere so badly that you’ll leave me because of it. That’s why I asked for Ayato’s advice while we were in Yashiori.”

…Thoma had no idea that you carried such sentiments inside. He wanted to tell you that even if you slaughtered every person in this building right now, he would still love you. Though that’s stretching it a bit, it didn’t make it any less true.

He was so hopelessly in love with you. It was downright ridiculous! 

“He told me that one of the best ways to keep a relationship going is consistency,” you murmured, linking your hand with his. “I have to be consistent in letting you know how I feel. Always, without fail. I can’t just be a lone wolf forever, since I came to work at the estate on my own volition. It means I gotta be more open with you, too, yeah? That’s why I thought throwing you a birthday party was a good place to start.”

He couldn’t believe it. The woman he feared would leave him one day also harbored the same thoughts. That made him a hypocrite, now that he thought about it. Thoma had been so busy keeping the peace and making things easy for everyone in the present, that he hadn’t dedicated any time to addressing the future he’s bound to share with you.

He was yet to give you a proper reassurance. 

“I-It’s just—” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You’re just so amazing, you know that? Everyone trusts you, everyone looks up to you—even if you’re an outlander. I can barely talk to one of milady’s annoying socialite friends without saying something standoffish.” 

Thoma squeezed your hand with a fond smile. “And?”

“And I feel like, I— Ugh. You are so going to give me an earful for this, but… I still feel like I don’t deserve you.” 

The chief retainer exhaled loudly through his nose before pulling you closer to his chest. You visibly startled at the gesture, but followed his lead, no less.

“That’s something you can’t easily convince yourself of,” he acknowledged, remembering the times you told him about your childhood in Yashiori Island; about the years you spent as a wandering mercenary. “And I don’t blame you for it. But I hope that you’re willing to move forward to the next phase of your life, and not chain yourself to the sins you committed in the past. I’ll always be here, Miss Kira. Every step of the way.”

He felt your fingers tighten around his bicep and the sigh of relief that expelled from your chest. You turned around to face him with a teary look in your eyes. But just before he could panic and wipe them away—

“It’s been a while since you’ve called me by my real name,” you sulked, cupping his jaw in the curve of your palm. “That one’s reserved for you alone, remember? Don’t forget to use the privilege.”

Thoma let out an airy laugh, pressing his lips to yours in a firm kiss as he murmured the syllables of your name against your mouth. You sighed—hands moving to the back of his neck as you shifted on his lap. Both of you were well aware of the fact that the others were in the other room, playing a very interesting variation of mahjong that Ayato came up with, but you didn’t care. 

Your lover even let his tongue slip inside the cavern of your mouth, hands firmly planted on your hips as he—

“I was wondering where the celebrant was.”

Needless to say, the two of you sprang apart at the sound of Yae Miko’s voice. Red-faced, Thoma greeted her with a stuttered reply that has the priestess chuckling at the doorway.

“No need to explain yourselves. Young ones always have so much energy, after all,” she teased. “Lord Ayato was kind enough to invite me to this little get-together, but I must take my leave. There’s something I need to look into back at the shrine.”

“T-Thanks for coming Lady Guuji. It really is an honor,” you told her dryly, with whatever semblance of composure you could muster up.

Yae Miko flashed another one of those conspiratorial grins. “That reminds me, I left a matrimonial charm in Lady Ayaka’s care as your birthday present. If the two of you ever plan on tying the knot, just show that to one of my shrine maidens, and I’ll personally oversee the ceremony myself.”

…Wait a moment. Did Yae Miko, the Lady Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine, just give the two of you her blessing for marriage?

“Well, you can continue what it was you were doing,” she laughed, lifting one hand in a wave. “I hope to see you both soon~”

Then, there were two.

“We’re going to pretend that didn’t happen, right?” you asked.

Thoma nodded. “Definitely.”

As the two of you straightened yourselves out before rejoining the others at the party, you randomly asked, “Hey, this is a little out of the blue, but have you seen my binoculars anywhere? I put it in the drawer by your cabinets, but I can’t seem to find them anymore.”

He feigned a look of contemplation—wholly aware that he forgot to retrieve your special gadget from where he hid them in the bushes the last time he saw Yae Miko. Fuck. 

“Nope, no clue,” he replied swiftly. “We could ask around in Ritou if they’ve imported anything similar?”

“Ehh, that was just a hand-me-down from the Tenryou Commission anyways.” You shrugged. “Oh, by the way…”

Thoma paused as you leaned closer to his ear to whisper something. If he hadn’t been embarrassed when Yae Miko walked in on the two of you, he definitely was now. 

“I’m going to make up for the time we spent apart when we get home,” you whispered. “You’ll play along, right, pretty boy?”

The chief retainer could barely suppress the groan that reverberated in his chest as you tantalizingly ran your hand across it. Now that he’s fully recovered from his own emotional turmoils, the fact that he’s been wanting to get you alone all this time came crashing down. But it wasn’t as if he’s in any position to refuse.

He was the people pleaser after all. 

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms.

[romanarose]

Leather and Lace: Chapter 5

Santiago "Pope" Garcia X Fem!OC

Pervious chapter here : Next chapter

Fic master list

A/N: I'm so sorry this is just long as hell. I couldn't find a natural end and there was so much I wanted to include. Sorry it took so long. Hopefully a new chatper of Sunshine Starlight Sweetheart Brightside will be out this week.

The hat scene is based on a post by @copingchaos and @welcometostayingawake which I will link in at the scene, be sure to give the post a like and reblog!

Final A/N: I want to make a masterlist for this fic but I wanna have some nice art or something for it sooooo if anyone wanna draw something or make a mood board or something for this, I’ll include it in the masterlist and tag/link ur account and any pages you use for your art! Anything sent will be included, even little doodles so don’t be embarrassed!

Chapter Summary: We see Santi and Will's side of the argument when they went inside. Santi and Laci find a special time just for them and have a moment. Laci babysits Rosie will the guys have drinks.

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“Do you have ANY IDEA how close you came to dying, Pope? It’s a goddamn miracle you didn’t get your head blasted open! You and Ben could’ve died! Then what? Do we spit up the money again and give it to your non-existent family and pretend it’s okay? If Ben died, would you just give me a pat on the back and say ‘Oh, sorry!’ and move on?”

Pope couldn’t sleep. The day had riled him up too much. Him and Will, after Frankie chewed them out, had gone to the kitchen. Santi hated leaving her out on the porch. Hated more how jealous he felt of Benny. But he didn’t want to test Frankie’s patience.

“Is that what this is all about, Will?” Santi crossed him arms at his friend. “Jesus, go to therapy.”

“I don’t need therapy, I need to stop watching my friends get shot!”

“Will you shut up? Frankie is going to fucking kill us as it is.” There was a long, pregnant silence. “Listen, I’m sorry Ben got shot. You know I’m sorry. But Ben agreed with me, he said I should’ve stayed with her… Maybe you should-”

“Don’t tell me to take time out of the field, Pope.”

Santi raised his hands in defense. “Okay, okay. But I think we’re all going to maybe take some time off, Frakie wants to spend time with Rosie, Ben’s got physical therapy-”

“You’ve got the girl. Who you want to spend time with” He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

Pope rolled his eyes. “Can you stop being shitty about Laci? I’m trying to help her”

“Oh please” He countered. “You have way past doing your job. You got a thing for her, even if you won’t admit it.”

“She needs help, Will”

“You saved her life, you were supposed to bring her back to the embassy, and be done. Have you ever stopped to consider you are overstepping? Have you ever considered that maybe there's a reason soldiers aren’t supposed to take back trafficking victims to play house?”

Santi shook his head. He had considered that, of course. “That’s not what's happening here.”

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t fuck her if you had the chance?” Will challenged.

Santi pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re getting off topic here.” He diverted. “We’re here because you’re being a dick to her”

There was a pause and Santi watched a boatload of emotions dance across Will’s face as he searched for a smart ass answer. When nothing came, he simply agreed. “I know.”

“Then why are you being like this? I know you know damn well this isn’t her fault, and knowing you, you are going to start feeling really shitty about how you treated her.”

Will groaned dramatically. “I don’t know man! I know I can’t blame her for what happened but my subconscious does anyway.”

Santiago’s lips smirked up a bit at that. “Subconscious, huh? You sure you haven't been the therapy?”

Will flicked Santi’s head. “No, I took psych in high school.”

“Nerd.”

The men stood in silence, feeling better but also not feeling like everything had been spoken. 

Will broke the silence again. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been. I just… I can’t help it sometimes.”

Santi knew he was sincere, but he also knew he had a duty to her. “Well you’re going to have to help it, man.” Santi crossed his arms. “Because for the time being, she’s going to be here, and if you want to be around me, you’ll have to be around her. And if you’re going to be around us, you’re going to have to be nice, because I’m not putting up with it anymore.”

Will closed his eyes “I know.”

“That girl has been kidnapped, raped, beaten, and god knows what else this last year, I’m not letting her put up with you bullshit too.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Will opened his eyes to look at Santi. He knew the protectiveness his friend felt over the girl was partially due to the loss of his sister, but he couldn’t help but feel there was another attachment here.

“Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” He nodded out the door.

Will gave a short laugh. “You gonna leave me alone with her long enough to apologize?”

“If you promise to behave.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah” Will headed for the door. 

Laci said things were good, that they’d made it. She didn’t go into details and he didn’t ask. That was their business. But right now, he couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t abnormal, he didn’t sleep a lot. Right now, all he could think of was Tom’s head with blood oozing out. Santi shook his head like an etch-a-scetch, and stood up to get some food. Unsurprisingly, Laci was up watching Friends. 

 He popped back into his room to pull shorts over his boxers and a white tee shirt, mumbling. “Even’n Lace.” As he rubbed his eyes, walking behind the couch in the living room. Lace turned around, hopping up on her legs, looking over the couch. He sees the movement, and looks over to find her eyes following him. He could swear she was looking at his butt. He smirked at her “Need something?” 

Her eyes flicked up to his, embarrassed at having been caught, she turned back to the tv and sat down.

“Ah, c’mon Munacita, I’m only teasing.” He waited until she glanced back at him. “You hungry”

She shrugged and smiled. ‘I could eat’

Santi heated up some pizza rolls, and brought a plate over to her. “Bon appetit, mademuasel.”

She grinned at him as she accepted the plate.

“G’night” Santiago began walking back to his room with his plate.

“Santiago?” She called after him, causing him to turn around.

“Yes?”

She nodded over to the seat next to her on the couch, and raised her eyebrows. ‘Join me?’

Santi knew damn well this was a slippery slope. He knew, really, that he shouldn't be indulging her in her little flirts. But she looked at him with her big hopefully eyes, how could he deny her like that? “Yeah, sure Lace” He sat down at the other end of the couch. “But we aren’t watching Friends.”

Laci grinned at him, bouncing over to sit next to him and handing him the remote. “Well you can’t sleep…” She spoke softly. “What do you watch?”

Santi was thankful for the dim lights, he was sure his embarrassment would show. “I um… it’s kinda silly”

She nudged him, urging him on. 

“I like to watch old sitcoms”

Laci laughed at this. She smiled, shaking her head ‘That’s not silly’ She pointed at Friends still on the TV.

“Friends isn’t old!” Santiago insisted, suddenly very aware of their age gap, making him feel even more ashamed of the thoughts that had been creeping into his head.

She gave him a pointed look. “It’s older than me.”

Fuck, that made him feel old. “I meant, really old sitcoms. Dick Van Dyke, I love Lucy.”

She nodded to the TV while nuzzling up next to him. “Relax.” She told him, and he tried.

A few hours later, he wondered how he got there. How had Santi ended up laying down, stretched out on the couch, with Laci asleep in his arms?

That’s how they found themselves more nights than not. Santiago would join Laci on the couch, and slowly their bodies would come together, and she’d fall asleep in his arms in various entanglements. There was something natural in it. There was a bit of desire on Santi’s part, how could he not, with a party blonde girl in his arms?

When she woke up the first morning, Laci smiled at him. She looked at Santi like they were lovers waking up on a lazy Sunday morning. Laci climbed off of him as he stood up. Santi’s thoughts were racing. Why did he do that? Why did he let her lay on him? Why did he wrap his arms around her? Why didn't he get up? But when he looked at her all sleepy and smiling at him, he couldn’t find it to feel as guilty as he should’ve.

She looked at him, touching her back.

“Does your back hurt?” He asked

She shook her head and pointed at him. ‘No, does yours?’

Oh. She had been asking about him. “No, actually I feel great. I haven't slept that well in…” years. He thought. Santi didn’t finish the sentence. He changed the subject as he stood up. “Well, the whole day is free. No doctors, no therapy, nothing. What do you wanna do?”

Laci thought for a moment and shrugged.

“C’mon, we can do anything you want. Whole day, up to you, what grand plans do you have?”

Laci considered his words. After a moment, she made scissors with her fingers and went to her hand.

“A hair cut?!” Santi chuckled. “We can do anything, and you want a hair cut?”

She blushed, but shrugged.

“Okay, Munecita. A haircut it is.”

Santi had her pick wherever she wanted for breakfast. Starbucks, IHOP, some fancy brunch place, it was up to her. He tried to express that money was no issue, but wasn’t sure how to go about that without sounding like he was bragging. The moment he got the money, he was set for life. He could have lived in luxery without working a day in his life. But he did work. He needed something to do. They all did, needed something to take their minds off the horrors. Benny still fought. Fought in matches and in bars. Frankie had his beautiful daughter, Santi’s god daughter. Frankie also had coke, something that no one dared bring up. Will always seemed like he had it together, focusing on field work and making sure Benny didn’t get himself killed. Seemed like he had it together, until he didn’t. Incidents like this last week were reminders that Will had a lot of guilt over Tom’s death that no one addressed. And Santi? Santi had work. Constant work. He always had something going on, something to distract him from everything he had seen and done… and hadn’t done.

He knew that the guys thought, or at least wondered if that's what Laci was. A project. But Santi didn’t think so. There was so much more he wanted to know about her, wanted to do with her, time he wanted to spend…

Santiago went to a barber for his hair, but Benny had a recommendation for a hair stylist. He promised that she wouldn’t make a big deal about Laci not talking.

“You must be Benjamin’s friends! I’m Brit. You can take a seat at the first chair, I’ll be with you in a sec, hon” The stylist called over to Laci, then looked at Santi. “You getting a hair cut too? You look like you could use it.” She teased while washing items in the sink. “Nay has some free time, could squeeze you in?”

“No thanks, I’m-” Santo started, but felt a nudge. Laci was looking up at him, grinning and nodding. She looked so excited, how could he deny her. He sighed with a smile. “Okay, yeah I suppose I could use a trim.”

“Excellant!”

Santi walked over to where Brit was cleaning. “Hey uh, did Ben talk to you about her at all?”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, he told me how y’all found her. Horrible. Don’t worry, her cut is on the house.”

Santiago shook his head. “No, no I’m paying for hers, don’t worry ‘bout that. Thing is, she doesn’t talk much. Sometimes at all, she has pictures for what she wants, but she can’t really reply unless it’s yes or no…”

“Don’t worry hon, I understand, I’ll keep it simple.”

He smiled. “Thank you.” Santi began walking away, but turned around. “Is there any like… hair treatments or something… nice? I asked her what she wanted to do today, all she asked for was a hair cut… Is there anything I can add to make it nicer for her?”

Brit gave him a knowing look. “Yeah, I’ll check out her hair, see what she needs.”

Laci and Santi spent the next few hours in the chairs, it was almost like a spa day. Much of Laci’s hair had been damaged from a year of no care and malnutrition, so she got much of it cut off, holding up a picture for reference on the phone Santi had bought her.. Brit had opted for a keratin treatment to strengthen her hair. Laci had asked (via her notes app)  about highlights, but Brit was concerned about the integrity of  her hair at the moment, and suggested they come back in a few months and recommended hair skin and nails pills.

Santi got a trim, and Laci gave him pleading eyes to get the keratin treatment. Nay suggested he get a deep conditioning for his curls, and Laci allowed it. Together, they relaxed as the soft music played. Nay and Brit were thankful for not having to make conversation, and Santi secretly enjoyed being pampered. 

“Jeez, whatever you and Benny do for work, if you wanna send more coworkers my way, feel free”

Santi had left a generous tip, and he knew Benny would’ve as well. They were very popular wherever they were regulars at. 

The next two weeks were something akin to domestic. During the day, they took turns cooking for each other. Well, “cooking” Santi could get by with a few Guatemalan recipes, but he tended to rely on burgers, microwave food, and pastas. He generally was in charge of lunch. Laci took on dinner. She was better at cooking than him. Some recipes, a white girl from St. Louis probably wouldn’t know, and Santi figured she had learned in her year of captivity. It occurred to him that they never really talked about what happened. He supposed that's what her therapists were for. Laci had given him access to all her medical and psych records, something Santi never took advantage of or even asked for. Laci had given permission for her psych to talk to Santi about what they talked about, she signed everything away to Santi. He was all she had. He could, if he wanted, find out everything they had done. But Santiago didn’t want to find out that way. If she wanted him to know, she could tell him. He didn’t want to invade her privacy. She deserved to be allowed secrets, even if she had given up her rights to any. 

More nights than not, she fell asleep in his arms. it had become routine. If they couldn’t sleep, they’d meet on the couch and watch old sitcoms. More nights than not, she laid on his chest. And tonight? Tonight he was regretting it. Not regretting it enough to stop, however. Not enough to move, to get up, to get away from her. Not when she was so close to him. Laci had sat up on his chest, her hands tracing over his face. He was tired, too tired, and the soft glow of TV bounced off her face. She was beautiful. Her haircut was chin length, a style that worked well for her straight blonde hair. Despite his best judgment, he reached up to touch her face. Laci’s fingers trailed his hairline, his cheekbones, his jaw, and softly over his bottom lip. He fought her urge to take her fingers in his mouth, but this was more innocent. Something pure, delicate and new. He didn’t want to ruin what was happening, even if he knew he should walk away. Her skin was still pale, but had gained color in its cheek’s, a bit of pink on her face that matched the shade of her lips. A shade that matched the color of pink she generally likes to wear. 

Laci leaned into his touch, and before he could stop himself, he lifted his face to hers. For a moment, their lips merely brushed together, an air of hesitancy like a teenage crush, like a first kiss stifled by nervousness and awkward touches. Finally, the hand on her face gently entwined in her thin hair, bringing her to his mouth ever-so carefully. It wasn’t a demand, it wasn’t an insistence, it was a guide. ‘Come here’ it said ‘let me love you, please’. The kiss was a plea. ‘Let me love you, let me love you, let me love you’ from who to whom, Santi didn’t know. Was Santiago asking to let him protect her and love her and help her, or was Laci asking him to open up, to know and be known by him.

There was no tongue, no fever, no wet, hot kisses and lascivious touching. Just his lips on hers, slow and kind, her gentle touch on her face begging him not to pull away. He only did so for moments long enough to check on her, only to see her smiling dreamily at him before one of them went back to the languid affection. There was a tightness in his chest, nervous to be seen so openly. It was a vulnerability he really shared. His job, the way he lived his life, had prevented him from normal relationships. This felt like a new start, a brand new thing not only with them, not only between him and the pretty girl in his arms, but within himself. There was something in him that had been laid to the ground with every military move, everyone had had to kill, everyone he watched be killed. Every kiss he planted on her lips brought new life; the hand in her head secured her to him, begged her to stay, stay, stay with me Laci, please. Something that had been burried deeper with every time he watched his friends get shot, every member of his family who died, all that was being brought to the surface with every faint, soft brush of her lips and the tender touch of her hand on his stubbled face. He didn’t want to stop. He wondered if he could stop time, what he would give to keep them like this, safe in each other’s arms for ever.

But he did stop, he had to. If he didn’t, he’d take things further. He would already regret this in the morning, he didn’t need to give into every carnel desire he had. Laci smiled, giving him one last kiss on the cheek before laying her head down on his chest. Tomorrow was for regret; tomorrow was for feeling shitty. Tonight was for nothing but thoughts of her lips, and the comforting touch of her hand.

The next day

“You two ready yet?” Will called out to Santiago and Laci in the doorway. Will was the DD for tonight. 

Ben was already half drunk. “LET’S GOOOOOO”

“Benny, shut the fuck up or I swear to god I’m leaving you here”

“Hey!” Santiago Garcia emerged from his room. “You’re not leaving a drunk Ben alone in my house.”

“He’s gonna get in a fucking fight tonight and I’m too sober to deal with this.”

Santi patted his friend on his back. This was Will’s apology for being a dick at the BBQ. 

Laci practically skipped out of her room. She wore white overalls over her pink undershirt, and was beaming. Frankie had asked her to babysit Rosie so the guys could have a few hours out. Santi had he feeling it was primarily for Laci’s benefit, but he was nervous. Him and Laci had been attached at the hip since the moment he found her, hardly being separated. She always had him in the room with her for doctors, and if she was in therapy, he stayed in the waiting room. For any meeting for social workers and things of that sort, he was always in the room, translating or relaying messages, depending on how verbal she was that day. This was the first time they would be separated by anything more than a few yards.

“Frankie is going to fucking kill you” Santi commented when he saw the hat Benny was wearing. It said ‘women want me, fish fear me’ from some tik tok audio.

Benny grinned. “I’m counting on it!”

“You change your goddamn ringtone yet?”

“Absolutely not!” Benny had set his ringtone to “Benny and the Jet’s” months ago, and it was driving the guys insane. Laci seemed to think it was funny. Every time it went off while they watched Always Sunny, Santi groaned, and Laci giggled.

Will started to drag Ben back to the Jeep. “Who still has a ringtone anymore?” He mutters as everyone loads up, heading to Frankies next.

Laci held Santi’s hand as she usually did when they left their house, but as soon as Laci spotted Rosie, his hand and him became irrelevant. She scooped the toddler off the floor, and began whispering praises to the giggling girl. She talked to Rosie more than Santi. 

“Two peas in a pod” Frankie commented and he put the food on the high chair. Then he spotted Benny’s hat. “Take that god damn shit off!” He tried to grabbed it off Ben’s head.

Ben yelped but doged Frankies grasp. He ran around the counters, tailed by Fish, mimicking the audio. “Women want me, Fish fears me”

Frankie chased the boy around the living room.“I don’t fear shit, Jackass, fuck off” Frankie grabbed the hat off Ben’s head.

“Hey!” The whole group of men turned to see Laci covering Rosie’s ears. She nodded to the baby. “Language” she scolded.

“Yeah, Fish, l a n g u a g e!” and took his hat back.

Frankie sighed, one battle at a time. He turned to Laci. “This is her dinner, she’ll fight you over it for a while but I promise she’ll eat it, just gotta keep at her. If she gets too messy you can give her a bath, but I think she’ll be okay. Bedtime is 7, but she gets really excited with new people, so if she doesn’t go to sleep, don’t sweat it. Help yourself to anything in the fridge or whatever, remote for the TV is on the coffee table. Don’t worry about dishes or anything. Any questions?”

Laci looked like she was mentally noting everything in her brain. She shook her head.

“Great. Any questions, you have my number, you can text Santi if that’s easier. I’ll set the security before I go, theres camera’s in the living room. Not that I don’t trust you, I don’t trust the outside. Years of military makes me paranoid.”

Laci nodded, smiling and still holding the little girl.

Santi spoke up. “I think I’m gonna sit tonight out guys.”

Everyone, including Laci, turned to him.

“What?” Ben asked.

“I’m kinda tired, I think I’ll just stay in with Lace and Rosie tonight”

“You stay in with Laci EVERY NIGHT, Pope.” The shots Benny had taken had loosened his mouth. “Jesus Christ she’ll be okay for a few hours.”

“No, that's not it-”

Ben scoffed loudly “Oh yes it is! Come one, give her a little freedom”

Santi glared at Ben’s comment. “Freedom? Ben, I’m not keeping her captive.”

Laci handed Rosie to Will, who took her with a smile and a kiss. Laci took Santi’s hand and dragged the irritated man to the hall. “Santi, it’s okay. I can handle a one year old”

He sighed, momentarily distracted by her pink lips, that only last night were on his. “I know you can, I just…”

“I know I havn’t…” Laci shuffled a bit. “I don’t really let you go anywhere, I don’t want to keep you back…” She looked up at him, her thoughtful blue eyes on him.

He softened for her. “Oh Lace, no, you aren’t keeping me back, not at all. I… I enjoy our time… together…” he trialed off, both of them thinking about last night, the kiss… neither had talked about it.

“Santi, I promise it’ll be okay. I’ll text you if anything goes wrong, or if I get anxious or something, okay?”

Santi considered this. It had been a long time since he had a chance to get loose with the guys, and Ben and Frankie promised to provide some entertainment… “Okay, yeah, just… keep me updated, okay?”

She lit up at that. “I promise”

They walked out of the hall, everyone turned to them, Laci smiled “Parties on.”

With a loud bunch of cheers from the guys, everyone got ready to go. Frankie gave Rosie a bunch of kisses and when everyone else had left, Santi kissed Laci on the cheek. “Have fun.” and tickled Rosie before he left. Benny absolutely saw that.

A few hours and a few shots in, Ben brought it up. “So, you two finally kissing” He said out of nowhere.

 Everyone turned to Santi, whose cheeks were flushed with a bit of pink. “What are you talking about, jackass.”

“Everyone’s calling me a jackass tonight!” He exclaimed. Benny wiggled his eyebrows. “I saw you kiss her when we left.”

“What?” Will exclaimed. Frankie was not surprised.

“Listen” Santi defended himself. “It was a kiss on the cheek”  there was a pause, as no one seemed to beleive him. “There might have been… some kissing last night.” A loud ooooooo from Ben. “No, no, not like that. And I should havn’t done that” Santi shook his head. “That’s not why I took her in.”

“Well…” Will started, but stopped, hesitating.

“Whatever it is, say it.” Santi groaned, finishing his drink and ordering another round for the guys sans Will.

“I just mean, it’s not the only reason. But I think it was somewhere in the back of your mind.”

Santi looked indignant. “I didn’t move her in to coerce her into sex, Will”

“I didn’t say that!” He raised his hands defensively. “I just mean, she’s a pretty girl, you’re a good looking guy who has been very nice to her,” he stifled a smirk “it’s natural that theres gonna be some… attraction.” Will tried to remain polite.

“Listen.” Santi scrubbed his face. “I’m well aware that she might find me…” He tried to find the right words without sounding braggadocious. “Appealing” he said he a smile, earning laughs from the guys. “But” he got more serious. “I don’t want her to feel like she is obligated to do anything.”

“Santi.” It was Fish’s turn. “I don’t think she feels like that. You treat her like a porcelain doll, she feels safe with you.”

Santi wasn’t relenting. “And I plan on keeping it that way. Lace is still in a high emotional state, I don’t know if she’s thinking clearly, and I’m not going to take advantage of that.”

Ben took another shot. “So what you’re saying is, when she gets more settled, you would go for it”

The alcohol flowed through Santi, taking back his usual inhibitions when he spoke. A smile quipped up at his lips. “All I’m saying is… I enjoy spending time with her, and I wouldn’t mind if she wanted toooooo, continue that” Oh yeah. Yeah he was drunk.

This evoked a round of cheers from the guys, and Frankie ordering more drinks.

A ding on Santi’s phone. When he looked at the screen he smiled.

Frankie looked over. “Everything alright with our girls?”

Our girls

“Yeah, they are great.” He show Frankie, then Benny and Will the picture. Rosie was fast asleep in her bed, Laci laying next to her smiling. Yeah, he was saving that picture.

Laci woke up on the couch, Will very softly whispering for her to wake up, careful not to scare her. “Hey”

Laci gave a sleepy little wave, but was concerned there was no Santi.

“Listen, I just got Frankie to bed, Santi is… drunk off his ass.” He chuckled. “Let’s get you guys home so I get throw Ben on his front porch and be done with him.”

Laci’s face falters, and Will assured her he was joking and would get Ben to bed safely. She stood up, glancing over to the room Rosie was in.

“I already checked on her, but you can say goodbye if you want.” 

Laci shook her head, she didn’t want to wake her.

When she got in the car, it was clear Santi and Ben were DRUNK drunk. Will had shoved them in the back, opening the passenger door for Laci. The whole ride home, Ben and Santi alternated music. Despite his earlier insistence that he didn’t like Luis Fonsi, he sure sang No me Doy Por Vecino loud as hell. Benny did too, even if he couldn’t pronounce the words. Laci looked over to the older Miller, who was glancing at his brother and his friend in the rearview mirror as they screeched out ‘Una senal del destino’ the top of their lungs, gripping to each other dramatically. Will was not as irritated as he pretended to be. He turned to see Laci catching him smiling. 

“They’re funny.” He defended.

Will practically had to carry Santi’s short body to the bed. Laci was grateful for him, there was no way she’d get him there. She took off his shoes as Will practically forced him to drink water.

“STOP WATER BOARDING ME!” Santi half yelled, half laughed.

“I’M NOT WATER BOARDING YOU, I’M TRYING TO HELP YOUR HANGOVER AFTER ALL THOSE SHOTS, DUMBASS”

Laci stood up, gesturing for the cup. She stood over Santiago, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. Will watched as she held the cup to his lips with one hand, and carefully coaxed his head back with the other. The way Santi looked up at her… he was done for. Laci had his wrapped around her finger, and likely had from the moment he saw her. His large brown eyes watched her face as she watched the cup, far more careful with him than Will had been. Santi drank every bit of the water, and Laci patted his head, leaning into whisper “good job, baby“ Suddenly, she looked up, turning around to see Will. She had forgotten he was there. Santi laid down on the bed, mumbling something in Spanish they couldn’t understand.

His face flushed a deep pink as her eyes widened in panic.

“Hey, hey,” Will Miller held up his hands, before pretending to zip his mouth shut. He mimiacked locking his mouth, handing over the key to her. Laci smiled and tentatively took the metaphorical key, tucking it in he roveral pocket.

“You guys gonna be okay here?”

Laci nodded.

“Okay, call me me if he asphyxiates on his vomit or something.” Pope had put all the guys numbers in her phone as soon as he bought it, incase of emergencies.

She looked panicked again. 

“Oh! Oh no, I was joking. Sorry, dry humor.”

This didn't comfort her. Now she was worried about him choking.

He sighed, but smiled. “Here” Will moved Santi to his side. “If he’s on his side, he’ll be fine” Will promised.

Feeling better, Laci nodded

“Okay, I’m gonna get going. Leaving a drunk Ben alone is a bad idea, he’s probably fighting a racoon as we speak.

Laci laughed and waved goodbye. 

When he was out the door, she locked it behind him and set up Santi’s extensive security system. She went back to check on him, sitting on the edge of the bed. When was sure he was asleep, she played with his beautiful, thick hair. “Thank you for everything. I don’t say it enough, but thank you. I owe you everything. Te amo.” A kiss on his forehead. “Te amo, Santiago” Laci climbed into the other side of the bed, not wanting to leave him alone. Will’s joke had worried her. She was going to watch out for him the way he watched out for her.

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

I hope y'all liked the kiss bc I wanted to write it really fucking sweet. Their first kiss was impulsive, but I wanted this to be slow, deliberate.

I used a piccrew maker to make how I picture Laci when she was found, and then after she had been with Santi and got her hair cut this chapter, which you can find here for reference

Also I'm working on a spotify playlist for this fic, if you have any suggestions go ahead and comment! Its gonna have leather and lace by stevie nicks (duh) some luis fonsi (duh) Selena, etc. if you have any songs you feel fit this fic, comment them here!

Also, writing dialoge that switched between 4/5 people is hard, im sorry if it was confusing.

be sure to follow the leather and lace fic tag, and if you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list let me know!!! smut is coming i swear

relbogs help a lot and comments mean the world! love y'all and thank you so much for the support y'all have given to this story!

@littlenosoul @bensolosbluesaber @milkymoon2483 @gogh-with-the-flow @itspdameronthings @trinkets01 @p0edameronswife

[no-one-you-might-like]

Witchcraft part 1

Eddie Munson fanfiction

I watch as he’s standing up on a table in the high school’s cafeteria, surrounded by all his friends from his club. He’s shouting something I’m not sure about cause he’s too mesmerizing to even focus. How can people think that this guy is evil or even a ‘vessel for Satan’? No one should believe that, he’s that fucking cute that I want to kiss his entire face.

I now watch carefully as he’s putting his hands on his head and his tongue out. God, how many nights I’ve dreamt about that tongue…

“What are you looking at, witch?” I woke up from my fantasies by a loud thumb: the magic book in front of me is now closed and my eyes land on the horrendous figure of Jason and not on the handsome Eddie. I immediately roll my eyes at the sight and I readjust my glasses on my nose.

“Piss off, Jason” I say nonchalantly, reopening my book and I keep reading.

When I sense that he’s gone, my eyes search once again for the curly haired boy and when I find him, I smile to myself, watching as he has his arms around two of his friends, both freshmen with curly hair and with the same Hellfire Club t-shirts. Then, something strange happens: he locks his eyes with me and I can’t move, my breath stops.

My relationship with Eddie is pretty weird or pretty nonexistent: he barely acknowledges me at school and now…he’s looking at me? Not possible. Simply as that. So that’s why when he’s getting up and coming my way, I collect all my things in my bag and sprint to the Chemistry class.

At Chemistry, I always sit in the front row, near the window, because I have the perfect view of the board. I take out of my bag the pencil case, on which I wrote drawings or latin letters that I like, correlated to the witchcraft world. The teacher, Mr. Greyson enters the classroom and an echo of ‘good mornings’ flies in the room. I dive into the Chemistry class and I ignore when a certain someone enters the classroom, late as always.

“Hey” I hear a soft voice on my left. His voice, I realize. I turn my head to meet those dark chocolate brown eyes and my heart melts. Why did he sit here, front row and near me? I turn my head once again and see that the last row is occupied. Oh. That’s why. I sigh and keep taking notes while he keeps talking to me.

“Do you know what we have next?” he asks, pointing a finger at the teacher, then he leans his head on the same hand. Fuck me if he’s beautiful. I open my mouth to answer but Mr. Greyson stops me, “Munson, do not disturb my best student, please”. Both of us turn to look at him, dropping our gaze. I smile at him while Eddie apologizes, something I didn’t expect him to do and the lesson keeps going, until the bell rings and we all exit the class, filling the hallway.

“Hey! Wait a sec, would ya?” I feel a hand squeezing lightly my wrist and I scream internally, I take a deep breath and then turn around, being lost again in the depths of his eyes.

“What is it?” I manage to whisper and I curse myself for not being able to mask my feelings.

He smiles, “You’re good in Chemistry, right?” I can only nod, so he keeps on asking. “you know that we have a test in two weeks and..” He takes a lock of his hair and puts it near his mouth. “..and I was wondering if you could, like, uhm.. help me or something? I would like to pass this year, you know” He laughs a little at the end and I’m fucking lost that I can only nod a little, “Mhmh” I lick my lip looking straight into his eyes and, without realizing it, I’m getting closer to him, but the spell is broken by one of his friends calling his name: “Eddie, come on, we have to go” says the tall freshman with long curly dark hair.

“Yeah, coming, Wheeler” He replies, screaming. I take a step back, sighing and thinking that the conversation is over, I turn around to collect the things for the next lesson, but then I hear, once again, Eddie’s voice: ”See ya, then”, he smiles at me and then runs away towards his friends. I sigh again and then I bite my lip watching him walking away.

History class goes by really fast, but the entire time I couldn’t stop thinking about how Eddie doesn’t really know that I exist. It’s like he’s using me for something that he needs. So, that’s why, on my way home, I brood about using witchcraft or not. I know how to do a propel spell, but my mother explicitly told me not to use magic because of something about my ancestors being burnt for it. But that was really long ago, right? So if I do a little spell now… it shouldn’t do damage, right? Right. So, I enter my home and go straight into my bedroom. I start to set everything up: I close the shutters so that my room is pitch balck, I light candles and put them in a circle on the little round rug that’s in front of my queen size bed and in the end I take the Magic Book. I sit in the middle of the rug and I put it near me. Carefully, I search for the desired spell and when I find it, I read it a couple of times in my mind, then I repeat the latin words out loud, for five times with my eyes closed:

"Nunc amit io ti amo simul

Eddie

quoque sicerit in me ex caritate"

Once I'm done, I open my eyes again finding out that the candles are turned off: the spell must have worked out.

Hi, everyone! This is my first fanfiction so be good with me 🥺 I intent to write a second part so tell if you like it and if there are any mistakes (English's not my native language).

Happy spooky season 😉

[doctorstethoscope]

Moment || Aaron Hotchner x gn Reader

A/N: hiiii besties expanding on a lil prompt from the weekend due to popular demand! Thank you to @the-modernmary for  helping me with it!! If u liked this teeny bit of angst u will love her fics!!

just a little note for those of you who read The Right: I am going on vacation this coming Saturday-Wednesday. I will have the chapters queued to post for y’all, but I will not be able to respond to taglist requests or update the masterlist until I come back! Still let me know what you think about the chapters though, they’re some good ones! ok onto this fic.

contains: slight cursing, alcohol consumption

wc: 1.7k

You take a deep breath as you walk out of Strauss’s office, taking exactly one beat to regain your composure before hastily making your way over to Hotch’s office, letting yourself in without knocking. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” you said by way of greeting as you crossed his office and settled into one of the chairs across from his desk.

“Tell you what?” Hotch asks, looking up from his paperwork with confusion knit across his brow. 

“That Strauss was going to harangue me the second I walked into the building this morning. I seriously didn’t even make it past security before she nabbed me.” You told him, disgruntled. 

“I didn’t know. What did she want?” Aaron asks, and you look up and see that he’s telling the truth-- he really didn’t know. 

“Oh… I assumed she would have cleared it with you before she asked me.” You said, your boisterous energy deflating the longer you sat in the chair. 

“Is she pulling you for undercover work? She always does that, and she never asks if we have anything coming up or what your consult workload is--” 

“No, Hotch. She’s, uh, she’s not pulling me for undercover work.”

“What is it?” 

“She said the director tapped me to lead the field office in Vegas.” You confessed, looking up and seeing the air leave Aaron’s chest. 

“Wow.” Aaron says, blinking. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

“And you’re going to take it?” He asked. 

“I told her that I needed some time to think about it.” You answer him.

“What’s there to think about?” He wonders. 

There’s a moment where you think you might actually roll your eyes at him. There’s a moment where you consider begging him to give you a reason to stay. There’s a moment where you consider crossing the desk and depositing yourself in his lap, kissing him with the weight of all of the feelings that had you wanting to stay. 

But, after a moment, you realize that none of that’s happening. He’s sitting across from you, looking at you like you’d be the biggest fool in the world not to take advantage of this opportunity, and maybe he was right. Maybe you would spend the rest of your life wanting him one-sidedly, wondering what good you could have done for the world if you had simply accepted that he’d never love you back. 

“Nothing,” you answered, after a moment. “There’s absolutely nothing to think about at all.”

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

Aaron’s barely even distracted when you swing his door open and plop yourself into one of his chairs first thing in the morning. He’s used to it, by now. He may have been a less-than-willing participant in your friendship at the beginning of your relationship, but now he was glad to call you someone he was close to. His closest friend, really. 

His ears perk up when you mention Strauss. “Is she pulling you for undercover work?’ He starts to rant, already planning the tirade he’s going to deliver to Erin when he notices your demeanor change. You’re… shy, all of a sudden. You’ve never hidden from him before. He doesn’t like it. 

“She said the director tapped me for the field director position in Vegas,” You revealed. The sentence hit him like a punch in the gut.

“Wow,” is all he can manage to get out, fighting the way his throat threatens to close up. “And you’re going to take it?” He asks, although he knows the answer will break his heart. 

“I told her I needed some time to think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?’ He asked, allowing himself to hope for a moment that you’ll make some grand confession, to imagine for a moment that you might possibly feel the same way he does, to believe for a moment that he’s worthy of your love. But he’s not.

“Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing to think about at all,” you tell him, standing up and leaving with a forced casualness. 

Aaron had been married long enough to know that that tone and those words together mean the exact opposite of what they are supposed to mean-- but he was still confused. What could possibly make you stay? And how could he find it before you left? 

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

The following days between you and Aaron had been chilly, to say the least. You didn’t bounce ideas off of each other on cases like you normally would. You came to the opposite conclusions at every turn. You were out of sync, and everyone felt it. So when the case wrapped up on a Friday afternoon, you were more than happy to rush home to a bottle of wine, a pint of ice cream, your moving boxes and some trashy reality television.

You’d given up on packing after about an hour. Your heart just wasn’t in it. So instead, you lounged in your pajamas, sipping at your wine in the hopes that it would guide you to your first full night of sleep since you’d spoken with Strauss. You’re just about to head to bed when there’s a knock at your door. You swing it open, revealing Aaron, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. 

“I was an asshole.” He offers. “Am I interrupting anything, or?”

“Just packing,” you say, wanting to twist the knife a little bit even if it wasn’t truthful. Aaron is undeterred, and steps inside anyways. 

“I didn’t want you to leave with us still in the middle of the fight. You can be as mad as you want in the morning, but have a glass of champagne with me?” He asks, with those big brown eyes you could never refuse. 

“Fine,” you sighed, still easily won over by him, even when you were heartbroken and mad. 

“Here, you open it. Congratulations,” he tells you, handing over the bottle. You start picking at the foil, and he speaks up in the silence. “Things are going to be different without you, you know. I like that our team is structured the way it is… as a team, but you know, in a lot of ways, it was nice to have a partner in you.”

“You know, come to think of it, I’m not sure if I even have cups. They might be packed away,” you say, still picking at the foil and decidedly not looking Aaron in the eye. He chuckles a little at your comment.

 “I don’t know what I’m going to do when you’re gone. I mean, who else can rein in Derek, or get to see me the big picture, or talk Emily off the ledge when I’m sure she’s about to go rogue?’ 

“It’s going to be okay,” you tell him, setting the bottle on the counter, still unopened. Aaron heaves a sigh. 

“You should stay.” He says, after a moment. 

“What?” You say, blinking, because surely you must be drunk or dreaming or something else. 

“You should stay here. You don’t have to take the job in Vegas.” 

“Haha, very funny,” you joked, bringing your attention back to the bottle to avoid looking him in the eye. 

“I’m serious. Listen, I know I said there was nothing to think about, but I changed my mind.” 

“Oh, did you? And what if I haven’t changed mine?” You asked, getting angry now. 

Not able to hold back for another second, he takes your face in both of his hands and kisses you. “Just, think about that before you board a plane. Okay?” He says, and before you can even speak, you hear the door swing shut behind him. 

Damn you, Hotchner. 

You don’t sleep a wink.  When 8am finally rolls around, you pull yourself out of bed and get dressed, heading over to Aaron’s. As you buckle your seatbelt, you realize that you know you have to go over there but you have no clue what it is you even want to say to him. You hope you’ll figure it out without sounding completely insane as you knock on Aaron’s door, and he swings it open, still in his sweatpants and incredibly surprised to find you on his doorstep.

“I’m even more mad at you right now than I was last night,” you tell him by way of greeting.

“That’s understandable. I haven’t been very fair to you,” he agrees, and the fact that he’s being so reasonable only makes you angrier. You slip past him and step inside the apartment. 

“I don’t get it. You couldn’t just let me move on, start a new life and forget about the torch I’ve been burning for my boss the entire time I’ve worked here? You had to have the last word, even if I was leaving forever.” 

“No,” Aaron says, and you bite your tongue, trying to allow him a moment to respond even if you weren’t feeling all that gracious. “No, I couldn’t let you move on thinking the torch you were carrying ws unrequited.”

You’re struck by his words. “What are you trying to say?” 

“I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter. It’s a great opportunity for you in Vegas. I’m happy for you, and you shouldn’t let this--” 

“Hotch, what are you trying to say?”

“Just that I’m proud of you, and I know that you’ll do excellent work, and--”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to hide from me.” You call him out, and he looks at you for a moment. This time, you don’t break his glance. 

“I’m not trying to hide. I’m just too late.” He tells you, looking down at the floor. 

“Tell me, Hotchner. Tell me, please.” You beg of him, shifting to try to get him to look you in the eye.

“I love you, and I figured it out too late.” 

You draw in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he’s ruined any vestiges of friendship that still existed between the two of you in this moment, and that you’ll board your plane to Las Vegas and he’ll become a creepy old boss that you never think about again. He takes a moment to look at you, a moment to mourn what might have been, a moment to remember the way your laugh made him smile while the memories were still fresh. He takes a moment, and then you speak up.

“No,” you correct him. “You figured it out just in time.”

tagging: @choppa-style @wanniiieeee @zheezs14 @torykjamie @maureen4y

@ssavanessa22 @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @ssahotchie @infinite-tides

 @itsmytimetoodream @averyhotchner @msmarvelsmain @hotforhotchner11 @hotchinkevlar

hi besties I tried to tag everyone who said they wanted to be on my regular hotch list and a few of y’all who regularly interact with the right but if i made a mistake/u want to be removed u can lmk I will not be offended!!!

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

The Only Woman

Pairing: (Henry Cavill!)Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Requested: Yep - “Hello Ma’amMay I request a Sherlock Holemes x Redaer?That when they were younger she was BSF with Sherlock and Mycroft. And all of the sudden they disappeared and never wrote to her a letter or nothing. And she got closer to Enola and when Edoria disappeared she reunites with Sherlock and Mycroft and Reader is Mad and Sad that he left without saying nothing. She always was in love with him and at the end she finds out he also was in love with her! And lots of fluffThank You so MuchAnonymous (she/her/hers)”

Summary: Basically just the request

Warnings: Probably some swearing, some 20th century misogyny, pining, fluff, angst, denial, all that fun stuff, probably ooc Sherlock but we vibe with it because he’s soft af

A/N: My first full length Sherlock fic! I should mention that my requests aren’t actually open right now, especially not for full fics but I was inspired by this request and so decided to make it into a full one! I hope you guys enjoy, please remember to reblog, comment or send an ask letting me know what you think and if you want to see me write more for Sherlock (and Henry and his other characters for that matter) in the future!

Y/N had been essentially another resident of the Holmes household her whole life, having been introduced to the family through the two boys - Sherlock and Mycroft, whom she had run into while out playing in the woods. Her family lived in the house nearest to the Holmes residence, technically making them neighbours.

Sherlock and Mycroft didn’t exactly do ‘friends’, that much had been clear even to Y/N’s young mind after meeting them. She was a year and a half younger than Sherlock and yet she still knew more about interacting with other people than he did. Not that either of the Holmes boys had ever seemed interested in other people, they had their brains to keep them occupied, and when they failed to find entertainment in learning, they had each other.

Despite this, they took a shine to Y/N when they found her playing make-believe on her own in the woods and insisted that she come over to have dinner with them and their family.

Mr and Mrs Holmes had gone out of their way, following that initial visit, to make Y/N feel as welcome as possible at Ferndell Hall. At first this was simply because they were astounded that their sons had actually made a friend and seemed interested in maintaining this friendship, but then it was partially as a result of the somewhat turbulent relationship that it became clear Y/N had with her family.

Eudoria in particular had ensured that Y/N knew she could always come and visit, that there was a spare bedroom that could be set up should she require it, which Y/N only began to take advantage of as she grew up and the rows with her parents over her future became more frequent.

However, it was always Sherlock that she was closest to. While she considered Mycroft a friend, and he had grudgingly returned the sentiment, they had never clicked in the same way that Y/N had with Sherlock. Occasionally Mycroft would storm off midway through a game, frustrated by Sherlock’s intelligence which so trumped his and Y/N’s, or he would simply decide that he was ‘above’ having friends.

Sherlock never much minded Y/N hanging around though. Truthfully, now that she was grown, Y/N looked back at their years of friendship and couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps his reason for tolerating her company was because she gave him the awed reactions that he secretly desired from his intelligence.

She had fond memories of her childhood with the Holmes. At Ferndell she never felt the need to pretend to be a young lady ready to be married that her parents so desperately wanted her to be, even as a child. Mr Holmes encouraged her to continue her studies beyond what her Governess would teach her, and Eudoria actively tried to teach her all that she could, going so far as to teach her alongside her sons on occasion - Mycroft wasn’t exactly fond of that, though Sherlock appeared to enjoy her company.

And then there was Enola, a surprisingly timid child considering the family that she had been born into - though Eudoria was convinced that her shyness was a trait that she would soon grow out of. Enola adored Y/N.

While Sherlock and Mycroft paid their little sister no mind, too caught up in their own lives to acknowledge their baby sister’s, Y/N was fond of Enola. Having grown up in a male-dominated household with only brothers for company, she had always wanted a younger sister.

It was Mr Holmes’ death that changed everything.

Not long after his death, Y/N was saying goodbye to her two closest friends as they left for Boarding School. Y/N had promised to write to them and had been encouraged to do so by Sherlock, who seemed thrilled by the prospect of their continued communication and Mycroft had also seemed somewhat in favour of the idea.

Y/N wrote to the brothers for a year after they left. Her letters to Sherlock in particular were long and full of detail about both her life, her parents continued attempts to interest her in marriage and her attempts to further her education, as well as the lives of Eudoria and Enola.

After a year of these letters, however, Y/N had yet to receive word from either brother and thus, with a heavy heart, she had halted her letter writing and turned her mind away from the Holmes brothers. 

Eudoria had ensured that Y/N still knew that she was welcome whenever she wanted to come over, however, and so Y/N’s life at Ferndell continued even with the absence of the boys she had considered to be her closest friends.

Y/N had been the first to be informed that Eudoria had disappeared, Enola having ran over to her house the day of her sixteenth birthday in a state of distress, imploring the older woman to help her. They had agreed that it was best for Sherlock and Mycroft to be contacted at once, with Sherlock’s career, Enola had been certain that her brother would make himself indispensable.

Y/N had been less keen on writing to the Holmes brothers, dreading having to see her old friends again, still far more hurt than she could care to admit about their silence following their departure. Every time in the past week that Enola had brought up the topic of her brothers, Y/N had been quick to change the subject.

A decision that she was coming to regret now that she approached Ferndell to find an automobile parked outside of it. Y/N bit back a groan, aware that its presence more than likely meant that Sherlock and Mycroft would be waiting inside.

Y/N didn’t knock before she entered, she never had as she had basically been a part of the family over the past few years.

She could hear the low mumble of voices coming from the drawing room, which were becoming steadily louder and Y/N’s expression dropped into a deep frown as she stepped towards the room, recognising Enola’s voice, breaking with emotion, even through the closed doors.

Before she could place her hand on the knob, however, the door was flung open and Enola rushed out, crashing into Y/N, who almost dropped the bags she was holding.

“Enola?” Y/N breathed, her hands gripping onto the young girl’s shoulders, steadying her. 

“Y/N!” Enola embraced her tightly, though not before Y/N caught sight of her face, flushed red and eyes shining with tears, her expression the picture of distress.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong? Why are you… in your undergarments?” Y/N asked in a rush as Enola pulled away. The teenager wiped fiercely at her face, clenching her jaw.

“My brothers are here…” Enola seemed to struggle with herself for a moment before shaking her head. “I wish to be alone.”

With that, Enola pushed past her and shortly after Y/N heard footsteps on the stairs. Y/N looked back to the door to the drawing room and caught a glimpse of a man holding a book, chestnut curls falling over his forehead, his brown eyes just visible, his brow furrowed as though he were frowning.

Sherlock was recognisable immediately. His eyes moved over to the door, away from the chair Y/N knew to be facing him in the room which she assumed seated Mycroft, and his book lowered, his head raising and his lips parting in slight surprise - an expression that Y/N had never seen on him in the entire duration of their friendship.

Before he could say anything, however, Y/N turned on her heel and walked towards the kitchen.

“Good morning, Miss Y/L/N,” Mrs Lane said from where she was kneading bread dough on the kitchen counter.

“Morning, Mrs Lane - I see that Enola’s brothers have arrived.”

“Yes, they got here yesterday,” Mrs Lane confirmed as Y/N placed down the bags of food she had bought and began to unpack them into the pantry. Knowing how overworked Mrs Lane had been, staffing the house alone, particularly since Eudoria’s absence, Y/N had taken to doing the food shopping for them.

“Enola seemed very upset,” Y/N said, unable to conceal her worry.

“Yes - Mr Mycroft has been less than impressed by both the state of the house and Enola herself.”

“Why?” Y/N demanded, her frown deepening, the beginnings of anger festering in her stomach.

“He doesn’t think Mrs Holmes did a good job of raising her,” Mrs Lane looked equally disgusted by the words even as she spoke them. “He wishes to send her to a finishing school to turn her into a proper lady.”

“But can’t he see that she’s happy here?”

“I don’t think Mr Holmes much cares,” Mrs Lane admitted.

“What does Sherlock think of all of it?”

“He has been rather silent on the matter, Miss Y/L/N,” Mrs Lane said, shaking her head and sighing. “I fear Enola has been rather disappointed by the brother she so idolised.”

“She said she wished to be alone for a while,” Y/N said, leaning on the counter and rubbing her forehead, wanting to ease out the deep concern she was feeling for the girl she had come to think of as a sister. “I’ll try and talk to her in a little bit,” she decided and Mrs Lane nodded her approval.

Y/N ventured out into the garden half an hour later, figuring that that was ample time for Enola to think it over for herself. Y/N knew exactly where the Holmes daughter would be, she knew that Enola had a favourite tree in the garden where she would go, should she want to get away from the house for a little bit.

What she wasn’t expecting was to find Sherlock walking back from the direction of the very tree Y/N knew Enola to be hiding in. He looked deep in thought, but there was no denying the very slight smile that lifted the corners of his lips.

Y/N allowed her head to fall, her eyes on the ground, hoping against hope that there was even the smallest chance that Sherlock may not notice her.

“Y/N - it was you I saw,” there was an edge of something like delight in his voice as he spoke and Y/N wanted to look up, to see his expression, to confirm that he was smiling as he acknowledged her.

Instead, she chose to ignore him and attempted to continue walking.

“Y/N!” Sherlock called, and reached out a hand to gently take hold of her arm, pulling her ever-so carefully back to stand in front of her.

“Mr Holmes,” Y/N returned his greeting, lifting her head to watch his features fall into a slight frown.

“I wasn’t aware that you would be here,” Sherlock said, his eyes searching hers.

“I was always welcome at Ferndell,” Y/N responded stiffly. “Now I must go and speak with Enola,” she said, turning ready to leave him.

“Y-” Sherlock cut himself off from saying her name. “Miss Y/L/N,” he corrected, and Y/N risked a glance at her old friend over her shoulder, seeing his brow crinkled in confusion, an expression that she had rarely seen during their childhood.

“Yes, Mr Holmes?”

“How have you been?” Sherlock was floundering, that much was obvious. All the articles about him that Y/N and Enola had read, all her memories of him from her younger years had always portrayed him as being calm, collected, ready with his words. Seeing him now, in this state of uncertainty, caused by seeing her for the first time after so many years, it brought her a sense of satisfaction.

“Fine thank you, now if you’ll excuse me,” she didn’t give Sherlock a chance to respond, walking away from him as quickly as possible, though she could feel his eyes burning into her back as she left him behind.

Enola was sitting on the grass at the base of the tree, her back pressed up against it, her sketchbook balanced on her lap but her eyes were glazed over and looking at the scenery rather than at the pages.

“Can I join you?”

The teenager started, her eyes widening in slight shock but then she relaxed as her eyes landed on Y/N, who she offered a small, tired smile and nodded her head. Once Y/N had seated herself on the ground, Enola scooted over to rest her head on her shoulder and let out a long sigh.

“I’m glad to see you’ve put on clothes now,” Y/N finally broke the silence and the younger girl laughed a little.

“Apparently my proportions are incorrect,” Enola informed her.

“Yes, I often find myself thinking that,” Y/N teased and Enola giggled again, playfully elbowing Y/N in the side. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t want to go to Miss Harrison’s Finishing School for Young Girls.”

“Finishing school is the worst,” Y/N agreed. 

“I remember when you went,” Enola murmured. “Mother said you hated it.”

“I did,” Y/N confirmed. “I begged my parents every holiday to not send me back, I think I even asked your mother at one point to adopt me so that I wouldn’t have to go,” Y/N chuckled at the memory, shaking her head. “It was a source of great amusement for my brothers.”

“Mine too,” Enola said darkly. “Mycroft is an utter pig, you know.” 

Y/N laughed again at the choice of words.

“Family reunion didn’t go quite as planned, I take it?”

“I didn’t have a hat or gloves,” Enola sighed. 

“So off to finishing school?”

“The only logical course of action,” Enola agreed, her tone biting. “You were friends with them, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, wary of where this conversation was going. “But I stand no chance of changing their minds. Mycroft was always stubborn, even when we were children, and I haven’t seen them since they went to boarding school.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry, I wish I could help,” Y/N said, her heart aching for the young woman.

“It’s okay,” Enola murmured. “I was just wondering, though… Sherlock was talking about me as a child - you must have known me at the same time as him, yes?” Y/N nodded her confirmation. “I think I have more memories of you than him or Mycroft.”

“I spent a lot of time with you,” Y/N shrugged.

“He said that I used to drag a pinecone around with me.”

Y/N couldn’t help herself from laughing as the memory struck her.

“Oh yes - a little pinecone, wrapped in wool that you dragged around on a string because of Queen Victoria’s spaniel. Called… Dash? I think?”

“That’s what Sherlock said, yes,” Enola straightened up, a slight grin on her face. “So it’s true?”

“Yes, you were rather obsessed with the thing,” Y/N confirmed, still chuckling a little. Silence fell between them, comfortable and thoughtful.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“What were my brothers like growing up?”

Y/N thought hard before answering, her mind going back to her childhood.

“They were fun,” Y/N said at last. “They both knew that they were smarter than me, and I think that that was at least part of the reason they kept me around. Sherlock would teach me things - things that my Governess wouldn’t have thought I ought to know…” Y/N trailed off. “They were kind,” she admitted at last. “Albeit a little aloof at times, a little arrogant, they were always kind to me. I think Sherlock could tell immediately that I was unhappy with my family, and that was why they brought me to Ferndell,” Y/N confided.

“Mycroft was kind to you?” Enola asked, staring at her wide-eyed. 

“He didn’t know any better until he went out into the world,” Y/N replied, smiling a little.

“I won’t let him send me to Miss Harrison’s Finishing School For Girls,” Enola stated defiantly.

“No,” Y/N agreed. “I don’t think that you should.”

///

Y/N was reading outside when the maid came to see her.

“Miss Y/L/N, there’s a Mr Holmes here to see you,” Freya spoke, her eyebrows raised just a tad in a teasing way, indicating that she thought it was a romantic house-call. Y/N frowned in return.

“Mr Holmes?” She repeated. “Not Enola?”

“If it’s Enola then she’s certainly changed a lot since I last saw her,” Freya said. “Mr Holmes is in the drawing room.”

Y/N closed her book and stood, following the maid inside, through the house and into the drawing room. She pushed the door open, still confused as to why either of the Holmes brothers would feel the need to make a house call to see her.

Sherlock was standing in the drawing room, his back to her as he stared at the painting hanging above the fireplace. She closed the door as quietly as she could, but the soft sound caught the attention of the detective anyway. Sherlock turned and offered her an unsure, gentle smile.

“Good morning, Mr Holmes,” Y/N said, bowing her head just slightly towards him. She thought she saw Sherlock’s smile falter just a tad before he returned her greeting. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m afraid I bring some bad news,” Sherlock said, walking away from the fireplace. Y/N stepped further into the room and indicated a chair. “Thank you,” he said as he sat down, Y/N seating herself in the armchair across from him. “Enola has run away.”

“Is that really all that surprising?” Y/N sighed, though his words did immediately cause her to worry for the young girl.

“Were you aware of what she was planning?” Sherlock asked.

“No. It just doesn’t surprise me.”

Sherlock looked at her for a long moment, seemingly analyzing her expression and finally he gave a slow nod of his head.

“So I take it that she hasn’t contacted you at all?” He asked.

“I haven’t heard from her since yesterday when I left Ferndell,” Y/N confirmed, attempting to keep her features as neutral as possible.

Sherlock frowned at her, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Even if she had, you wouldn’t tell me, would you?”

“No,” Y/N admitted, shrugging her shoulders. “But you can’t blame me for that. We both know that Finishing School is not where Enola’s time would be best spent. Besides, from what she told me Miss Harrison seems a foul woman.”

She thought she saw Sherlock’s lips twitch as though he wanted to smile, but then he schooled his expression into one of neutrality again.

“You know, there was a time when you would tell me everything,” he reminded her.

“And there was a time that you found me utterly insufferable for that,” Y/N countered, her words sounding like she was spitting venom at him.

“I never found you insufferable,” Sherlock said, a chuckle in his voice. 

“Is that so?” Y/N mused, quirking her eyebrow at him.

“Perhaps a little slow at times, but I wouldn’t take that personally,” she hated how teasing he sounded, as though nothing had changed since he left. Sherlock clearly picked up on the anger festering in the pit of her stomach and spoke again before she had time to lash out. “But I never found you insufferable.”

Y/N made a noise conveying how unconvinced she was by his words and she stood from the chair.

“If that’s all…”

Sherlock’s eyes flashed with something similar to disappointment before he, too, stood and adjusted his suit jacket slightly.

“Yes… that’s all,” he said. “I thank you for your time.”

Y/N nodded and watched as Sherlock crossed the room to stand in front of the door, reaching out a hand towards the doorknob. Before he could turn it, though, Y/N was hit by a sudden wave of concern.

“Mr Holmes?”

The man paused and looked back at her over his shoulder at her.

“You… if you find her, or here anything… could you let me know? She’s only young… I worry about her.”

Sherlock bowed his head in a sign of consent.

“I will keep you updated, I promise.”

“Thank you… Sherlock.”

Just as Sherlock had promised, he kept her updated on the situation with Enola as best as he could and she received letters from him every other day, even if he had found no new leads.

On the days that he had nothing new to report, his letters were filled with updates about his own life, general musings, his theories about both Enola’s whereabouts and other, unofficial cases that had caught his eye. 

In short, they were the most un-Sherlock-like letters that Y/N could have ever imagined receiving and every time the post came she felt her heart lift in hope that there would be another one for her.

The only letter that Y/N had replied to, however, was one dated about a week and a half after Enola’s disappearance, in which Sherlock told her that he had asked Mycroft to pass over his duties and to make Enola his ward, filing Y/N in on the details about what had happened with Enola and the case of the missing Maquis. Sherlock had also let her know that he had attempted to make contact with his sister via newspaper and that she had indeed come to the meeting spot but had been disguised.

From the tone of that letter, it had been clear to Y/N that Sherlock truly cared for his younger sister, and that he knew that she would be capable of taking care of herself despite the worry that he so clearly felt over her.

After having received a response from Y/N after that letter, Sherlock had implored her to keep replying, but Y/N had not. She was afraid of falling into the same trap that she had when they were kids - of allowing herself to get too close to him, to feel something for him, when it was never going to go anywhere.

Y/N had allowed her heart to be broken by Sherlock Holmes once before, when she was too young to truly understand matters of the heart. She wasn’t going to do it again.

About a week after receiving the letter recounting the tale of Enola and Tewkesbury, however, Y/N got another surprise in the post. A letter from Enola herself, detailing Y/N with much of the same information that had already been given to her by Sherlock, though with more detail and far more reassurance that she truly was safe and secure and comfortable in her newfound lodgings in London.

In the final paragraph of the letter, there was a plea from Enola, imploring Y/N to go and visit her in London - she had attached a date for the following week and the address of a cafe that she said she thought Y/N would appreciate.

And so Y/N found herself boarding a train the next week, ready to meet Enola in London, agreeing to stay with her for a couple of days so that they could properly catch up.

Just as she was settling into the carriage, the train about to leave the station, the door slid open again and a familiar face appeared.

“May I join you?” Sherlock asked, a somewhat nervous smile on his face. Y/N returned it and nodded her head.

“Of course,” Sherlock entered into the compartment, closing the door behind him and placing his bag onto the overhead luggage rack and taking the seat opposite her. “I wasn’t aware that you were back here?” 

“Only for a night - Mycroft demanded my help,” Sherlock explained. “I thought about visiting you, but I was unsure of how much it would be appreciated,” he added. Y/N bowed her head a little, finding herself unable to maintain eye contact with him. “You didn’t reply to my letters.”

“Yes I did.”

Y/N risked a glance up and saw Sherlock’s lips quirk a little, holding back a smile.

“I apologise - you replied to only one of my letters.”

“That’s one more than you replied to of mine,” Y/N pointed out, raising her eyebrows challengingly. Sherlock didn’t even attempt to keep his smile at bay, grinning at her in the familiar cheeky way that Y/N remembered from their childhood.

“I wasn’t aware of how good you were at bearing grudges,” he mused, leaning back in his seat.

“Well perhaps if you’d come to visit you would have realised,” Y/N muttered, opening her bag that rested on the chair beside her and pulled out the book she was reading.

Before she could open it, though, Sherlock’s hand pressed down on the cover, preventing her from doing so.

“I'm sorry, Y/N,” he whispered and when Y/N met his eyes again they were so filled with genuine apology and concern.

“I wasn’t aware that you knew what an apology was,” but she smiled a little, seeing how Sherlock’s eyes brightened 

“Well I’ve been attempting to catch up on them as of late.”

“Enola?”

“I have yet to find her to give her one,” Sherlock confessed, leaning back at last. “You’re going down to see her, aren’t you?”

Y/N knew there was no point in denying it, Sherlock was always capable of telling when people were lying. He had always been particularly quick at picking up on Y/N’s lies as well when they were children.

“Yes - she wrote inviting me down last week,” Sherlock nodded slowly.

“Would you… would you let me know that she’s safe - that her lodgings are comfortable?”

“I’ll let her know you asked,” Y/N said instead, her voice quiet and full of understanding.

“Thank you,” Sherlock swallowed hard.

Silence fell between them. The most comfortable silence that had existed between them since their reunion.

“I did miss you, you know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“When I left home - I did miss you. I know you think I didn’t, and it’s understandable, but I did,” Sherlock confessed.

“Why didn’t you reply?” Y/N asked and she hated the desperation in her voice, the plea to understand why so many years had passed in silence. “Why didn’t you come and visit?”

“I don’t have a good reason for why I did - or didn’t - do any of it. And I’m so sorry,” Sherlock sighed but Y/N frowned at him, noticing how his gaze briefly dropped her own as he spoke, how his fingers fidgeted slightly on his lap.

“I know you’re the detective of the two of us, but I know when you lie, Sherlock Holmes,” Y/N didn’t know what made her do it, but she lent forwards and grabbed one of his hands between her own. “Tell me the truth, Sherlock.”

Sherlock studied her hard for a long minute, his eyes sweeping across her face, taking in every inch of her features and there was an emotion that Y/N couldn’t quite place lingering in his eyes.

“Mycroft used to… make fun of me, when we were children. Because he knew how I… how I felt about you. I’ve never quite… understood why he did, he always liked you, even if he never admitted it, but I hated it. I hated Mycroft making fun of me, it made me feel like he was smarter than me…” Sherlock’s cheeks reddened. “I did not mean for that to sound as conceited as it did.”

“To be fair, you were quite a conceited child,” Y/N teased, squeezing his hand and Sherlock chuckled. “But… what do you mean, how you felt about me?”

“You really want me to spell it out for you?” Sherlock asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“You said it yourself, I always was a little slow,” she grinned, “at least compared to you.”

Her heart was pounding out of her chest, she could barely breathe from the excitement at the idea that Sherlock was hinting at what she thought he was.

“You have to know by now that you are the only woman who I have ever held a place for in my heart.” He paused, shrugging his shoulders bashfully. “Or you were.”

“Enola?”

“Of course,” he confirmed. He lifted her hand tentatively up, pressing his lips gently against the back of it, keeping his gaze lowered. “I just hope that you know you never left it.”

The rest of the journey passed in a blur, the two of them having the final catch up that had been missing for so many years, everything feeling as though it was falling back into place, just like everything had been when they were kids.

By the time the train pulled into the station at London, Y/N had no desire to say goodbye to Sherlock Holmes, and by the way he loitered with her on the platform, it appeared that the sentiment was returned.

“Where are you headed?” Sherlock inquired. “I know Enola wouldn’t want you to tell me her address, but…”

“I’m actually meeting her at a cafe,” Y/N told him, adjusting her grip on her bag and smiling at him.

“In that case… would you allow me to escort you? London can be rather confusing at times, especially for those used to the country lifestyle,” he suggested and if Y/N didn’t know any better, she would have thought he was blushing a little in embarrassment.

“I would appreciate that yes, thank you Sherlock,” she agreed and Sherlock offered her his arm.

Enola did not seem overly surprised at Sherlock’s presence beside Y/N. There was a slight raise of her eyebrows, a knowing smile on her face and a gleam of amusement in her eyes as she walked over to them, her arms laden with a bunch of yellow roses.

“It’s so wonderful to see you again,” she said, completely bypassing her brother and embracing Y/N as carefully as she could with the flowers in her hands.

“I was so happy to hear from you, I was so worried about you,” Y/N told her, pulling away and examining her surrogate sister for any trace of hurt.

“I promise I’m fine,” Enola laughed, holding out the flowers for her. “I bought these for you, though.”

“They’re beautiful, thank you.” 

Enola’s eyes slid over to Sherlock at last, who was standing awkwardly to the side. Y/N could sense how his own gaze was flicking continuously between herself and his sister, clearly overjoyed at seeing her again but also wanting to continue the conversation he and Y/N had been holding on the train.

“It’s more of an apology, actually,” Enola mused. “I’m afraid that something has come up and my assistance is required… elsewhere. Perhaps Sherlock would take my place?” She raised her eyebrows at her brother.

“I-uh-”

“Fantastic!” Enola cheered, hugging Y/N once more and giving a nod to her brother before rushing away.

“Did your sister just set us up?” Y/N asked, turning to face the younger Holmes brother.

“I think so,” Sherlock confirmed. “For what it’s worth, she hasn’t gone far, I believe she has every intention of snooping on us.”

Y/N laughed at that piece of knowledge, rolling her eyes affectionately at Enola’s antics before placing her hand once more in Sherlock’s arm. He reached across her to take her bag to allow her to hold the flowers.

“Well we wouldn’t want to disappoint her, now would we?” Y/N said, nodding towards the door to the cafe, not missing the affectionate smile it brought to Sherlock’s face.

As he held the door open for her, Y/N reached up onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

[aenaxes]

Hey! I was wondering if you could write Crosshair going to the reader for random cuddles no matter where they are, late at night or out on the beach with the batch. BTW, I love the way you write and it never fails to get me inspired to draw our favorite clone boys. Good luck with Uni!

warnings: none

w/c: 1.6k

a/n: ahh tysm for this request! i got a little carried away lol but it's just because i had a lot of fun writing it! :-) hope this helps stoke the artistic imagination! (and thankfully uni is out for the summer so i have more time for our favorite clone boys)

It’s one of the better known facts that Crosshair doesn’t like to be touched, even if warranted, even if he’s asked. There are too many variables in another’s hands: accidents happen, sabotage is never unlikely, and sometimes youthful fear rears its cruel head, and he is flooded with the knee-jerk reflex of memories in the alabaster halls of Tipoca.

So the first time you cuddle with Crosshair, it’s just as much of a disaster as you expect it to be.

Crosshair lies like a corpse over the centre of your bunk, back rigid and ramrod straight, his deathly look complete with the ridiculous bandage criss-crossed over his hairline (courtesy of the simple joys of a ten metre human javelin toss and Wrecker’s miscalculated aim).

Where painkillers weren’t quite enough to keep the concussion headaches at bay, he’d somehow come to the conclusion that you would be. And who were you to turn down a sullen Crosshair mumbling awkwardly for cuddles at your door?

With careful hands and just enough of a firm touch to coax him onto his side without spooking him out of his moping, you maneuver him with his back towards the wall and gently push him further in before you climb onto the space beside him. He flashes you an uncertain look, and you offer him a wry smile in return.

“Relax a little,” you say, lifting his limp arm and slotting yourself against his side until your chests are flush. It’s less cuddling than it is you trying to mold yourself around the hard, firm lines of the tension etched into Crosshair’s muscle and poise. But if he was willing to put aside his standoffish pride to ask you for cuddles, you won’t deny him. Finally content with your arrangement, you lift your chin and fix him with a wry smile. “I can’t spoon a board.”

“Was that an insult?” he offers, a weak attempt at his usual wit that comes out as more of a whimper than bite. But to his credit, he’s listening to you, and you feel him shifting slightly in an attempt to make himself comfortable despite his somewhat unsettled expression.

“Maybe,” you counter. “Loosen your shoulders. Stop tensing. Cuddle, Crosshair.”

“I’m trying,” he mutters, and when you close your eyes to laugh, you barely miss the small upward turn of his lips.

When you wake up the next morning, you feel reborn, all loose-limbed, sated joy as you stretch your arms to your side, expecting Crosshair’s lean form curled close. Instead, you find yourself alone in your bunk, your covers pulled neatly up to your chin with no sign of your surly sniper in sight. You pull yourself together, albeit with a frown, throwing on a fresh set of clothes and readying yourself for a day of snarking (a bit spitefully) at Crosshair for leaving without so much as a thank you.

But then you see it. A small mug sitting on your desk: caf.

As you peer over the rim, you’re hard-pressed to mistake it as anything other than your preference made to perfection, and judging by the steam curling fragrant and wispy over its surface, it’s fresh.

Crosshair says nothing when you pass him in the helm, but when you flash him a grin, he huffs and offers you a lopsided smile back.

It takes the lesser part of one week for the headaches to abate. In between then and Crosshair’s begrudgingly clean bill of health, he comes knocking at your door four more times, each time gently loosening the deep roots of tension coiled through his bones more and more.

“You’re getting better at this,” you murmur into his shoulder on the fourth night, your leg thrown over his hip and your arms tucked securely under his. His first night in your quarters had ended in little beyond simply lying shoulder-to-shoulder. The next two had been (failed) attempts to spoon the entirety of Crosshair’s lanky form. And the night penultimate had been a slightly more successful endeavor in throwing all experimental caution to the wind and waking up chest-to-chest in an oddly comfortable tangle of limbs.

That night worked, and so you do it again.

“I had a good teacher,” Crosshair snorts, and he wheezes, his arms curling snug around your middle, when you gently jab him in the side.

You mutter something into his shoulder, but your own words do not reach your ears when you feel his chin settle atop your head. He shifts carefully until he’s curled entirely around you, the anchor in a still sea, a promise that you, together in shared space and breath, simply are. It’s funny how these things work, you think, breathing shallow and slow as Crosshair brushes his nose over the crown of your head and stays.

And then the concussion heals, and he’s gone.

It’s a bit startling how quickly you had grown accustomed to Crosshair’s presence in your bunk within the brief span of a week. You don’t expect to miss it, the easy nighttime habit as Crosshair quietly slinks to your room: a well-rehearsed ritual of playful snark before the gentler art of accommodation, pushing and pulling in tandem to find the sweet stability of your cheek laid over Crosshair’s collar and his palm warm over the small of your back.

You don’t expect to miss it so much that you find yourself lying in bed well past lights out, simply bracing to sling meaningless jokes thrown in the helm the next morning about how Crosshair’s gone soft, little baby brother Crosshair, like the week prior meant little but a favor to a friend.

The telltale knock sets him apart; four rapid, light raps on the durasteel that you’ve come to know so well, and you’re hauling yourself out of bed and slapping the door lock open as fast as you can.

“Cuddles,” Crosshair says as soon as he catches sight of you in the doorway.

He should be fine; he is fine, if Tech is to be believed. So there’s no reason for him to be waking you and requesting entry. But he is here. You stuff down the dizzying stutter in your chest and meet the mirth in his eyes with the best frown you can manage.

For all the stubborn fronting and the cold refusal you could offer him, there’s something you cannot bring yourself to resent when Crosshair—sour, cynical Crosshair—lets the word “cuddle” find home, curled soft over his tongue (lets himself find home in you).

“Will you make me caf in the morning?”

“Depends on how well you cuddle,” he replies, his tone a deadly calm, only betrayed by the knowing gleam in his eye.

“Says the man who didn’t know how to cuddle a few days ago,” you shoot back.

“The apprentice outdoes the master,” Crosshair shakes his head with a wistful sigh, and you laugh, reaching forward to twine your fingers with his, letting him take his rightful place as the doors close behind you.

—

He comes back home.

Wrecker tells you to give him space, Echo shakes his head when you idle in front of his closed door, and even Omega offers you a sad, apologetic look when Crosshair makes the rare, silent appearance outside of his quarters, a spectre and his bacta patch haunting the ship’s hull before he disappears again.

You listen to them for a few days, but it chews at you from inside—the gnawing thought that Crosshair had been alone for so long, that he’s still alone now. Even if his basest instinct had always been to withdraw and cope in isolation, you can’t stand the idea of leaving him by himself any longer. So when the others have long since fallen asleep, you creep to Crosshair’s room and knock four times in rapid succession.

Like you had expected, he’s awake. But when he opens the door, he keeps his unfocused eyes cast aside.

“Cuddles,” you whisper, testing, hopeful, and you open your arms to him as you stand on the threshold. “Just like we used to?”

Only then does Crosshair flick his weary eyes up, rimmed red with exhaustion, grief overdue. And after four long days, he finally meets your gaze.

You watch as his eyes linger under furrowed brows, peering at you as if he isn’t entirely sure if you’re real, if you’re really there. Watching him waver between your face and your open palms and back again, you imagine Crosshair thinking that it’s always been the other way around: him seeking you out at odd hours to wrap his lean arms around your shoulders, breathe deep, and simply bask in how close you were to his beating heart.

And now it’s you.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, stepping forward between your outstretched arms to gingerly place his chin over your shoulder and settle his lean arms at your waist.

All those times you spent curled, molded around him in the quiet darkness of your bunk—it’s honed you to know him like you know yourself, committing to indelible memory the way he breathes, shifts, fits with you.

And he’s different. A year’s worth of separation would do that, change. But where you feel some new muscle and sinew against your skin, there is undeniable familiarity in how he seeks you out despite the tremble in his hands and unsteadiness of his breath.

There is familiarity in finding home.

You reach up, looping your arms around his neck. And when you pull snug, you feel him squeeze your waist in return, holding tight and holding close.

“Just like we used to.”

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Hi! It's an au twilight question.

What if Edward and Bella did the nasty in early New moon. Then the party happens and the Cullens leave. Bella discovers she's pregnant with Renesmee. What do you think what would happen?

A very interesting question, anon. One that will go very interesting places, I'm sure.

That said, as usual, because I'm a completionist, we have to go through the "why no canon?" routine. Bear with me, I simply must.

Why Didn't Edward and Bella Do the Nasty Pre-Breaking Dawn?

For all that Edward is, for all his... questionable morals and sexual fixations, he does have a moral code he strictly holds himself to.

Edward is adamantly against having sex with Bella in terror of the very real possibility that he will murder her in the act. He's very clear about this, he didn't think he could do it, at all, and only his sheer desperation that Bella never be turned, his desire to marry Bella, as well as Alice's thumbs up convinced him to do it.

If Bella was a reasonable person then she would have agreed as well. Sex with Edward, while she's human, is a bad idea. However, Bella never really seems to clue in on what vampires even are so I think the Man of Steel on Woman of Kleenex aspect is lost on her.

Had Alice not given the green light, I imagine Edward would have gone back to the drawing board and ended up either here or here. Bella turning is the worst possible outcome and Edward will risk almost anything, even Bella's death, to see it avoided.

But that doesn't mean it's an action he takes lightly.

He suggests pimping Bella out to Jake before he suggests sleeping with her himself. For Edward, this is a last resort.

More, Edward is a man of his time.

Edward was from an upper class family and, more to the point, still holds himself to the standards of the society he knew when human (much to Bella's amusement).

Edward wistfully talks about courting Bella, how he would have courted her had he been a true man in the time period he was familiar with, and why marriage to him is so very important.

That Edward doesn't seek out the approval of Charlie, Bella's father, is a hilarious aside to me. Edward's all about chivalry until all those old society standards get in his way.

What do you mean a gentleman doesn't sneak into a lady's apartments in the middle of the night to watch her slumber unawares?!

Regardless, marriage is extremely important to Edward, especially in the context of sex.

Edward will absolutely not have sex with a woman who is not first his wife. He also will not marry a girl that society defines as underage, he will wait until Bella's legal and probably until she finishes her primary schooling.

This means Edward was never likely to have sex with her before graduation and certainly not before her eighteenth birthday.

Which, at the earliest, puts her past the New Moon birthday bash.

Edward and Bella Do the Do Anyway

But let's pretend they do it anyway.

I'd say the most likely scenario is after the birthday disaster. This is it, Edward knows he is leaving Bella forever, if he is truly noble then he will never see her again.

Certainly, he will never interact with her nor hold her in his arms. To Edward, this is essentially his last true night on Earth.

So rather than pull a partial D.E.N.N.I.S. system, Edward pulls the full D.E.N.N.I.S. system, he initiates the "I" he was previously missing, "Inspire Hope". Or, in this case, get laid for the first and only time in his life.

He sneaks in through her window. They make beautiful, passionate, tepid love so Edward does not crush her in the act, and as she sleeps blissfully in the aftermath he sneaks back out the window to never be seen again.

(It takes Bella a week to admit that Edward just hit and run. The Cullens aren't coming back.)

However, because Edward didn't actually point blank tell her what was happening, rather than hit her New Moon stage of depression, Bella's instead in denial.

The Cullens are coming back. What, Carlisle has a new job? No, that can't be right, they're coming back. Alice would never leave her without a word. Edward would never leave her without a word.

Jessica pats Bella on the back consolingly and is secretly glad that it's not her. She might have been dumped by Edward Cullen, but at least he didn't humiliate her the way he did Bella Swan.

Leaving without a single word, yikes.

Two weeks go by then Bella gets the flu.

In a single day, she's unable to keep down anything. Huh, that's weird. Very quickly, Bella has her tampon epiphany. Bella is not a virgin, she had sex with Edward, she's late, and she appears to have a baby bump.

Bella is carrying Edward's child.

There is no question of aborting the child. This is Edward's child, the only piece she has left of him, even without Renesmee's gift it's ride or die. Bella is delivering this child even if it kills her.

However, she has some immediate issues.

First, she's visibly pregnant, it's been only two weeks. That's not supposed to happen. More, Charlie is bound to notice sooner rather than later, Bella would like to avoid that, the stigma of teen pregnancy, as well as the inhuman complications that are sure to come along.

Second, there's inhuman complications. Bella can't just go to an OBGYN, not even a town over. She's carrying something half human, a doctor will poke around and find that out, and then Bella's blowing the secret.

Bella knows vaguely of the Volturi at this point, but not the severity of the law, it's more that she promised Edward she would never tell a soul.

Plus, a human doctor wouldn't be able to help anyway.

That leaves vampires.

Bella tries to call/email the Cullens. However, thanks to Edward, all their numbers are disconnected and all their emails no longer exist. Her "Alice, help, I'm pregannant" messages are sent to a void.

(Alice, meanwhile, thinks she's finally successful in blocking visions of Bella. At least Edward will be off her back. Without the cliff diving and Jake, Alice does not assume Bella has died/committed suicide.)

A brief internet survey also yields Bella no results, but it does get her a lot of vampire porn. Thanks internet.

Bella... starts to get worried.

She's getting more and more pregnant in a matter of days, Charlie is starting to notice that she can't keep anything down, and the Cullens aren't taking her phone calls.

Then, Bella has it, she remembers that weird baroque painting Carlisle had of him and those Italian vampire dudes: the Volturi. Conveniently named after the city they live in, Volterra, Italy.

Bella debates her options.

Edward told her that these are the guys who make sure that humans who know the secret disappear. Well, Bella is a human who knows the secret, that's bad. Also bad is that they eat people, Bella is a person.

On the other hand, Edward implied these guys are civilized and friends of Carlisle. That's... good? Bella isn't sure she's on good terms with the Cullens, given the whole abrupt leaving thing, but maybe they don't have to know that.

Bella debates with herself, tries to look up the Denali, and only finds the National Park. She has no idea where these guys even live, or what they even look like besides "blonde hot vampire", and she's short on time. Plus, they are close with the Cullens, so the Cullens probably did tell them "Ew, Bella, No Gross, Do Not Want".

Because the Cullens all hate her now.

Bella has some money saved up, and this is probably a one way trip, and if she doesn't go then... well, it's not looking good. Bella musters up her courage, tells Charlie some outrageous fib to explain why she's disappearing off the face of the planet, and books a flight to Rome, then Pisa, then a bus ride to Volterra.

Bella subsists completely on blue gateorade, this doesn't go well, and she vomits blue in the parking lot.

Regardless, she makes it, huzzah she is in Volterra. It's sunny out and there are no vampires. Bella wanders around the city and looks for the most vampire building she can find.

Luckily, she happens to be right, and it's the very central castle. Well done, Bella.

Bella walks in and spots a vampire. She also spots a receptionist, Bella is very confused. Never the less, Bella says the magic words, "I'm a... friend of Carlisle Cullen?"

Even though Bella doesn't have Aro's name (or any of the other Volturi for that matter), Carlisle's name does the trick. Anyone who works for Aro knows that name.

Color Aro intrigued, he will meet this pregnant woman! (Caius, meanwhile, votes that they eat her immediately out of spite.)

Well, Aro touches her hand and lo and behold she's scarily gifted. And she knows Carlisle, what a great day to be Aro.

Aro explains that everything's totally fine with her knowing the secret, it just means they have to turn her eventually, after she gives birth of course.

Bella stares at him numbly and wonders why Edward made this such a big deal if it was that easy.

Aro insists Bella start from the beginning, as in the very beginning of her life. This is weird, but Bella complies.

An hour later they get to the interesting part: Bella meets Carlisle (and Edward Cullen, Aro guesses). Aro gets to hear the whole, sordid, ridiculous tale of Bella and Edward's romance including the part where he fucked her and ran off into the night.

Aro is stunned.

He first apologizes for the Cullens behavior, they should absolutely not have abandoned her, and not turning her was completely irresponsible (what the hell was Carlisle thinking?)

He then gives the bad news, he... has never heard of anything like this.

You see, normal vampires don't have sex with humans. It isn't done.

Also, there's this thing called Immortal Children (Edward tell you about that, no? Well, he probably thought it wasn't relevant). That thing your carrying might not be a child capable of growth but an insatiable monster.

Or it could be the alien from Aliens.

There's no way to tell, really.

BUT NO NEED TO WORRY, BELLA, THEY WILL FIGURE THIS OUT.

Aro promises Bella his protection and a period of observation for the child. Bella's not sure she likes that observation part, but this seems like a pretty sweet deal otherwise.

As for what to do, well, Aro has to call in the foremost vampire medical expert. Sorry, Bella, but there's only one man for the job.

Aro sends out Demetri to find Carlisle.

Demetri shows up on Carlisle's doorstep, "Carlisle, old friend, Aro has need of you. Your son knocked up a human girl."

Carlisle blinks, blinks again, then does a thousand yard stare. My God.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Edward is already on Victoria's tail. Carlisle tries to call him, to no avail, Edward isn't taking his phone calls.

Alice and Jasper are already on their trip to hunt down Alice's past. Plus, given the Volturi, they'd be unlikely to come anyway. Carlisle sends them a message.

Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett travel to Volterra to clean up Edward's mess.

And sure enough, there's Bella, very pregnant with a child that is very much not human. Carlisle dies inside, Rosalie's on a warpath that Edward would abandon his pregnant girlfriend to the point where the only place she could turn was human drinking vampires.

Rosalie takes it upon herself to leave Edward the world's angriest voice messages until he returns her phone calls.

Aro's delighted to see Carlisle again. Even if he does have a wife now. Also, Aro claims finders keepers for Bella, Carlisle's not happy about this and less happy that Aro points out that if Edward cared so much he wouldn't be absent right now, would he?

They figure out the blood drinking thing, Carlisle desperately raids a hospital to prevent Bella from being fed the leftovers of the Volturi victims. This likely doesn't work out for him.

At the last possible moment, Edward finally picks up his phone. He learns that all he's tried to accomplish failed spectacularly. Bella is pregnant with his demon child, is literally drinking blood, and is in Vampire HQ with the leader insisting she will be turned immediately after the C-section.

Edward races to Volterra and strides into the room demanding Bella be aborted and remain human.

Aro stares.

Carlisle awkwardly explains that Bella's too far along, it's too late now even if they wanted to, more she adamantly doesn't want to abort and never did.

As for Bella being human... Bella pipes in that she's cool on becoming the vampire part. Aro's a great guy. She then races to embrace Edward, he's come back, after all this time. And he's going to be a father, isn't that wonderful?

Edward loses his mind.

And because this is Edward, I have no idea what he'll do, only it'll be utter madness. This is my best guess.

To be a little more serious, he probably tries to abort the child anyway, he mercy kills Bella and the child, or Renesmee manages to get through to him.

Given canon, it's likely the latter. Bella is convinced that her and Edward's relationship is perfect.

Aro has no idea what to think of any of this.

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART TEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS 18+ ONLY! sexual content (finally), pot use, alcohol use Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: Okay, guys. If you missed it, this chapter is NSFW. This was the best to write, seriously. Love you all, don't be afraid to tell me what you think of it! 

taglist: @valleyd0ll​​ @satingrass-maidensfair​​ @guitarfingers​​ @thebohemianpenguin​​ @peaceisouranthem​​ @oblvions​​ @hansonobsessed​​ @myownparadise96​​ @lara-gvf​​ @anditsmywholeheart​​ @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​​ @bigblack-catattack​​​ 

MASTERPOST 

Two weeks before the Saturday of the play, the forecast had called for a blizzard. “Polar vortex” they had called it on the tv at school, flashing graphics of a polar bear wearing a scarf. 

After classes on Friday, you had asked Kate if she wanted to go for coffee. You had been working like a dog on the play - sewing and painting to the point where your fingers perpetually hurt and the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes was the shade of green that every foliage prop was painted.

You ordered a caramel macchiato and genuinely tried to enjoy it, propping your legs up on the chair next to her. 

“So,” she started, eyeing you like she had a bone to pick. She still looked so pretty when she was coming for your life. “We’ve been so busy with Josh, we haven’t had any alone time to talk about Trevor.”

You sucked in a deep breath and relaxed your stiff neck muscles, achy from behind hunched over while sewing. “Yeah. I kind of forgot about it, to be honest.”

“I have not, however. So dish,” she requested, reaching into her purse and pulling out a tube of lipstick. She applied it carefully in her phone camera as you spoke. 

“Josh did it,” you admitted, making her eyes flick over to you momentarily. “I mean, I still slapped him, but Josh was the one that gave him a black eye.”

“And how do you feel about that?” she asked carefully.

You shrugged, wrapping your fingers tightly around your cup, half to leech the heat, and half because you were anxious. “I don’t know. I was kind of upset, but only because he could have gotten kicked out of school for that.”

She just nodded for you to continue as she cleaned up the lines around her lips with a paper napkin. 

“I mean, and for what? He could have been arrested. Just for revenge. I feel like the best revenge would be just be keeping your head high.” You rolled your eyes at the beginning of your statement, just for emphasis. 

She stared at you blankly as she picked up her mug. “Aren’t you flattered? I wish a guy would punch one of my hookups.” 

“I mean, it’s cute, but I feel like he did it more for himself - for his own pride, you know?”

Her expression changed then to something a little heavier, her features sharpening in accusation. “Are you for real? Like, for real, for real?”

You frowned at her, feeling like you were being scolded. “What are you talking about?”

She let out a long breath, looking dumbstruck. “I haven’t really pressed it because I guess I just thought it was something that everyone knew but wasn’t talking about but-” She paused, putting her hand over yours on the table just to really drive the point home. 

“That boy has it bad for you.”

You knew your expression was ridiculous by the way she looked at you with pity. “What the hell are you talking about? Josh? Are we talking about Josh?”

She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and nodded. 

“Kiszka?” you tried again, still refusing to let her statement sink in. 

“Yes,” she said through a laugh. “Yes, your roommate Josh. Curly hair, hippy bullshit - that guy. I swear to God I thought you knew. I mean, there were times when I was like ‘does she actually know?’ but then I thought ‘there’s no way she lives with him and doesn’t know that’. You’re telling me I was wrong?”

You were struck silent for a few long moments. “Are you sure?”

Thankfully, she was looking at you like you were a puppy with its head stuck in a peanut butter jar. “Look at me. He punched a guy in the face for you.”

You closed your eyes and tried to suppress a smile. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. There’s supposed to be a huge snowstorm this weekend. Now that you’ve heard me say it, return to me on Monday - after spending all weekend in the same place as him - and tell me you don’t see it then,” she said simply. 

“Okay, I will,” you challenged. 

“Okay, you do that,” she quipped with a smirk, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest confidently. 

+++

In preparation, you had gone grocery shopping together, picking out everything you’d need to be stuck in the apartment together. He had even made you take him to a thrift store, just so he could see if there was anything fun. In the end, he had come out with a card game in a box, still wrapped. 

Saturday morning the snow started falling, this time in huge, fluffy flakes, and it wasn’t supposed to stop until Monday evening. 

While Josh was in the shower, you decided to get everything ready for the evening’s festivities that you had planned together. You had gone to find a good cheese board at the market until you found out they were too pricey for your (nearly nonexistent) budget, so you ended up laying out different crackers and cheeses onto a circular pizza pan. 

By the time he got out of the shower, you had grapes, pickles, olives, and chocolates laid out on the coffee table, and he caught you just as you were pouring each of you a glass of wine. 

The charcuterie was his idea - actually, the first thing he suggested when you said you wanted to have a fun night in on Saturday. The three different kinds of alcohol had been your idea.

“Okay, it’s all yours,” he informed as he trotted out from his bedroom, dressed in a fresh set of clothes. 

The shower was still warmed up, the mirror still steamy. You got a towel out and stepped in under the spray. 

You took the time to enjoy washing and conditioning your hair - your mom had been sweet enough to send you some of the expensive kind you love. Once you had hinted over the phone that you were homesick and the smell of it reminded you of home, she was already googling it. 

Once you felt sufficiently clean, you stepped out and dried off. The clothes you had taken into the bathroom weren’t anything special - you had chosen comfort over aesthetic - but they were warm, which is what you really needed as the snow fell outside. 

When you joined him back in the living room, Josh was waiting patiently on the couch.

“Ready?” he asked, handing you your glass of wine. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” You gestured down at the untouched food. 

He smiled at you. “I know.” 

You sipped at your drink as he gestured to the tv. 

“Movie for background noise?”

You hummed in thought. “Maybe music?” 

He nodded in agreement. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you pick will be perfect.”

By the time he had made a selection, you had nearly finished your glass of wine. “So, the costumes are coming along well. I got the cutest lace for the trimmings of Alice’s dress. I’m not sure you’ll even be able to see it from the audience, but she’ll look adorable in pre and post-performance pictures.”

He shot you a beaming smile. “That’s some master craft. Your attention to detail is unrivaled.”

You knew that he was just playing, but it still made your stomach flip.

“Should we play our card game?” he suggested, padding over to the kitchen and snatching the bottle of wine off the counter.

You watched his movements as he poured your glass full again. “Thank you. Yeah, we can. Or did you want to be drunker first?”

He hummed. “One shot each?” 

“Of vodka?” you inquired as you picked yourself off of the couch. “Where are the shot glasses?” 

“I don’t think I own any,” he admitted as he watched you rifle through the cupboards. 

You shot him a shocked look. “You’re a college kid; why would you not own a shot glass?”

“Well, we haven’t needed it thus far. I don’t throw a lot of parties if you haven’t noticed.” He gestured around the empty room. “We’ll each just take a pull from the bottle?”

“Okay, you first,” you agreed, thrusting the bottle at his chest. He took it from your grasp with a smirk and then pressed his lips to the rim. He drank until the count of three before swallowing hard and passing it along. 

You followed suit, except with more difficulty. He had made it look so easy, you had almost forgotten how vodka tasted. You swiped your thumb across your lips, wiping them dry in the process. 

You took your seats back on the couch next to each other as the music played through the room. 

“Charcuterie?” you offered, gesturing to the coffee table full of food. 

“Yes, of course.”

As you watched him make a cracker sandwich, you spoke. “So, should we crack this game open?”

After he nodded excitedly, you ripped into the plastic wrap. 

“Okay, it looks like it’s essentially just a questions game. We just draw one at a time and the other person answers them,” you explained after skimming the inside of the box. “And you have to finish your drink if you can’t answer it.”

He laughed. “Okay, ladies first. I’m ready.”

You pushed the stack of cards over at him. “No way, you ask me first,” you stated with a cheeky smile.

He raised his eyebrows at you but relented. As he plucked a card from the deck, he took a sip of wine.

“What is your favorite color?” he asked, leaning in and squinting like the information you were about to provide was essential to his existence. 

You snorted. “Really?” He nodded, prompting you to continue. You hummed as you thought about it. “It’s blue.”

“What kind of blue? Like navy or sky?”

You shook your head. “No, more like that blue that’s so blue it hurts your eyes. The one that was a new pigment discovered not that long ago - so bright it hurts.”

He gave you a sincere smile.  “That’s a good pick.”

“What’s yours?” 

“That’s not how this game works,” he said through a breathy laugh. 

You frowned at him. “Yeah, well. Then I’m asking you as a friend. Josh, what is your favorite color?”

He pursed his lips as he considered his answer. “It’s hard for me to pick, but maybe either red or orange.”

You nodded in agreement as you reached for the deck. “I could see that. Okay, your turn.”

You stared at the card in your hand that read, WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU SLEPT WITH?

“Are you alright?”

You snapped your eyes up to him, quickly nodding as you realized that he had been waiting patiently for you to read it. 

“Okay,” he agreed cautiously. “That’s good. What’s the question?”

You couldn’t suppress an awkward smile as a heat rose to your face. 

“It says, ‘who is the last person you slept with?’,” you informed in a humored tone. You even held it up for him to see.

He stared at the card like it just accused him of a heinous act. “You really got to answer the color question and I have to answer this?”

His intensity made you snort a laugh, though you were trying to hold yourself together so you didn’t spill your wine. “Okay, okay. I’ll answer it too. Maybe we can play the game where we both just answer it.”

“Do you just want to hear me talk about sex?” he prompted with a shit-eating grin. 

You gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you- You’re the one that picked this game out!”

Your overreaction was clearly exactly what he had been looking for. You were anticipating his ribbing to continue, but it didn’t. 

“The last person I had sex with,” he started, pressing his lips against the rim of his glass as he took a swig. “Was from my music theory class.”

“When?” you quickly asked, shocking even yourself.

 “Is that part of the question?” he teased smugly, picking a kalamata olive off of the tray and piercing it with his finger before popping it in his mouth. 

You licked your lips nervously. “No, it isn’t,” you admitted. “You don’t have to answer that, I was just curious.”

“You wanna get high?” 

He was staring directly into your eyes when you looked up at him again. 

“I feel like it’ll make it easier to answer these.”

You nodded at him, biting your bottom lip. “Yes. Yes, I do want to.” 

“My room?” he asked, picking up both of your glasses as he stood. 

“Your room,” you confirmed, following suit. 

Through the slats in his blinds, you could see that the ground was completely covered in a white blanket of snow. You spent some time watching it fall from his bed as he packed a bowl. 

“Here,” he said gently to get your attention. “You take the first hit. I’m going to light it and you’re going to suck in and hold it in.”

You nodded in understanding. 

“Not too much though,” he warned. 

The glass was cool in your hands as you took it from him. When he held the flame to it, you did as you were told before exhaling with care. He was looking at you with a proud expression when you met his eyes. 

You handed it back over to him, waiting until he was in the process of taking a hit before you spoke. 

“Tell me when you slept with her,” you demanded calmly, biting back a smirk at the way his breathing faltered. 

It had turned into a game of chicken as you held each other’s gazes silently. 

“You haven’t even answered the required question yet and you want me to do the extra credit?” he quipped. 

“The last person I fucked was a guy from tinder back home, and it happened a couple of months before I left,” you informed him confidently. “I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and he was a prick, so when we broke up, I went on a tinder bender just to feel something.”

A small smile spread across his pink lips as he listened. 

“Now you.”

“She was my girlfriend last year. We broke up in April and I had a hard time saying no to late-night texts until the end of June.” His tone was sincere as far as you could tell, as were his eyes. 

You were starting to feel the hit you’d taken by then, and you took a pause from the conversation to lean over the side of his bed and grab the bag of suckers you knew was waiting there for this very occasion. 

The high washed over you in a gentle, pleasant manner, leaving you feeling a little dreamy. 

“Sucker?” you asked, holding the bag open for him. He breathed a laugh - probably at you offering him his own candy - and then plucked one from the bag. 

After he had it unwrapped, he held the bowl out to you again. “Want another? Or am I going to have to smoke the rest of this myself?”

“Yes, I’m sure that would be very rough on you, poor baby,” you teased. 

He huffed a laugh, sitting up a bit straighter in his position. “You want another one or not?”

You stared at him wordlessly for longer than was socially acceptable, but when you finally spoke, it was with conviction. “I’ll have another baby hit.” You pulled the cards from the pocket of your pajama pants. “But then we’re playing another card, right?.”

He glanced down at the bowl and then back up to you. “When you say ‘baby hit’-”

“I mean I want you to blow it into my mouth with your mouth,” you explained cheekily, making him huff a laugh. 

“You liked that, huh?” he asked, risking a dark glance up at you through his long lashes as his fingers played along the glass piece. 

You knew exactly what you wanted to say - could hear it in your head, but your body felt tight with nerves at the thought of actually saying it. “Not as much as you did, I’m guessing.”

Oh, damn, you said it. 

A smirk played across his mouth, his eyes half hooded. If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have thought he was completely unaffected by your teasing, but you had been listening to his breathing, so you were perfectly aware when it changed slightly. It was just the smallest difference in sound like he was pulling in air through tighter lungs. 

“Be careful with what you’re accusing people of.” A warning, definitely, but almost more of a challenge. In the months that you’d spent with him, you’d never seen him like that, but you suppose you wouldn’t have unless- Unless you were about to make him do something truly reckless. 

You bit your bottom lip out of an anxious, excited energy. “Oh, my mistake then.”

The ball was in his court, and you could tell that he was expecting him to continue pressing him. A look of slight disappointment flashed behind his eyes, but you weren’t done yet. 

You nodded toward the bowl, prompting him to glance down at it like he had forgotten what he was doing in the game he was playing with you. He kept eye contact with you as he brought it to his mouth and lit it. You watched the white smoke circle the inside of the globe before he sucked it into his lungs. 

You tilted your chin up in invitation and tried to relax your muscles as he leaned in, his throat looking tight. 

You felt his nose brush yours first before you realized you had closed your eyes in anticipation. The smoky smell hit you first when you realized you were supposed to be taking it from him. You opened your eyes and tried to breathe it all in, but most of it was lost to the room. 

He had a tiny smirk playing on his features until you reached out and wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pressing his forehead against yours in an abrupt motion. You could tell he had his teeth clenched by how tight his jaw looked. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from playing your fingers along the sharp line of it. 

“Do you want me?” you whispered, voice barely there at all. 

Through a labored breath, he responded with a smoky sounding, “What would give you that impression?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, but unsurprisingly, it came out sounding raw. Your fingers brushed across the short hair on the nape of his neck, the pleasant feeling causing his eyelids to flutter. 

You leaned forward until you pressed your cheekbone against his, lips right by his ear, and pointedly asked, “Do. You. Want. Me?”

“Fucking of course, I do,” he spat through clenched teeth, sounding distressed as his hands wrapped around your waist, thumbs pressed into your hipbones on either side. 

“Should we?” you asked, pulling back so you could see his face. 

“Probably not.” His words were humored, a melodic laugh accompanying them, but still somehow managed to not sound any less strained. 

You considered what he was saying for a moment, relishing in the idea that this was the last moment before the point of no return. “Just one hookup,” you reasoned. 

He smirked at you, looking all too smug and disbelieving. “Okay,” he agreed. 

Patiently, you waited for him to make the first move, your heartbeat bouncing around like a basketball in your chest. When you felt his hands move from your hips, your body tensed, trying to predict where they’d end up next. 

As he cupped your jaw with both hands, you melted a little, muscles noticeably relaxing. 

The kiss was tentative at first - just a brushing of his lips on yours like he was testing the waters. He held your face like he was afraid that you were going to vanish into thin air - like your presence was the key to his existence. 

You could hear his shallow breaths as he opened his mouth, pressing it against yours. His tongue tasted like the orange sucker he’d abandoned on its wrapper on top of the dresser next to his bed. You lapped at it, body rising as you shifted to crawl into his lap. With the way he was sitting, cross-legged on his bed straddling him was a bit of a strain on your inner thighs, but the feeling was oddly pleasing - like a warm-up for the workout you were about to endure. 

He let go of your face to place his hands back on your hips, pulling your body as close to his as it physically could be. Before he could situate you too firmly, you started to unbutton your pajama shirt, and bless his heart, he couldn’t help but watch your fingers work. 

“Is this really happening, or this just a super high fever dream?” he asked, shaking his head as he frowned like he wasn’t sure he could trust his eyes. 

You wanted to laugh at him, but you could hardly blame his disbelief. If someone had told you even earlier that week that you’d be in this position, you would have rolled your eyes at them. You hadn’t realized how much you wanted this until it was about to happen.

The last button undone, you let the garment fall, the pink and white striped fabric slipping off the bed and to the hardwood. 

The cool air was shocking on your bare skin at first, causing it to tighten - well, that and you could practically feel his eyes raking over your chest. 

“It’s happening,” you assured, leaning in until you were speaking against his parted lips. 

The feeling of him brushing the pads of his fingers over your nipple made your breathing shudder. When you tipped your head back, he ducked in and pressed his mouth to your throat, dragging a stripe across your skin with the flat of his tongue. Every part of your whole body felt hot, but none more than between your legs. You tried to grind yourself down on him, but couldn’t seem to get a good angle - luckily, he seemed to notice, and halted your movements with his hands on your hips, stretching his legs out straight.

He pulled back just far enough to see your face when he ground you down onto him, the outline of his cock slipping against your core. Even with all the layers between you, the feeling still made you crumble against him, a whine escaping your lips of its own volition. It was clear that he felt it too as he bit his lip, his eyes fluttering. 

You seized the opportunity to get your fingers under his shirt, lifting it over his head as he held his arms up for you. Before he could prepare for it, you pressed closer, pressing a kiss to his temple and then nipping at his earlobe. The cool metal of his earring was pleasing against your tongue, and you reveled in the moment as he sucked in a sharp, shocked breath. 

His hands snaked around your sides, palms wide as he cupped your ass and used the leverage to pull you against him again. Burying his nose in the crook of your neck, he let a shaky breath escape him.

You could feel his thumbs hook under the elastic band of your pajama bottoms as he started to slip them down the cleft of your ass. Once it was bare, he ran his fingers over it, movement stalling as he looked at you with an eyebrow raised. 

“Are you not wearing panties?”

You scoffed. “Not to bed, obviously. Are you implying that you wear something under those loose pants?”

The corners of his lips tilted up in a wicked smirk. “I encourage you to find out.”

You giggled at his confidence, sweetly nudging your forehead against his, so he didn’t expect the swift movement of your hand as you tugged the tie of his sweats down. The answer to your previous question was “no” - he hissed as you grabbed his erection, swiping your thumb across the head, glossy from the dim light through the blinds. It was just a tease though, because a split second later, you let go of it in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your mouth against his again. 

As you pressed him back, he tried to hold you, but once he realized you weren’t just leaning on him for support, he relented. You laid him back on his bed, pulling back as you slipped your bottoms off the rest of the way. 

“Jesus,” he breathed as his eyes took in the whole of your naked body above him. “Hang on.” 

He reached to the bedside table and grabbed the bowl and lighter. After he sucked in another hit and set the piece back down, he tugged you in roughly, depositing the smoke directly into your mouth. You tried to hold it in like he had taught you, but you were much more interested in getting your tongue into his mouth. 

Still, you were plenty high, so much so that looking down on his bare form had tears threatening your eyes. He looked so soft and sweet despite the position he was in, his eyes half-lidded and one hand behind his head, one on your bare hip. 

You shifted until you could grind your core against the length of him, the wetness letting it slip through easily. 

“Fuck.” You had thought it was an exclamation of pleasure until you opened your eyes and saw a scowl painted across his face. “I definitely don’t have a condom.”

You hummed through a smile. “I don’t blame you, I definitely didn’t expect this.”

He frowned up at you. “We can just try something else if you want,” he offered.

“Well, I’m on birth control, and given the length of time between our last sexual encounters, I’m guessing we’re both clean - I know I am.”

He stared at you for a long moment before really realizing what you were implying, but once he did, he licked his lips in consideration. 

“Come here.” You weren’t sure what he was requesting until he grabbed onto your thighs and guided you up until you were straddling his face. 

The thought of it made you blush, and surely your cheeks were hot to the touch. 

He started with broad strokes of his tongue, just dragging it through. You briefly wished he had a headboard for you to brace yourself on, but your thoughts quickly became completely incoherent. You decided you were going to lean back instead, placing your palms flat on his bent knees. When you were completely comfortable and situated, he started pointedly flicking his tongue against your clit directly, first very soft and teasing, but building to something rougher and more deliberate. 

You thought you were actually going to shake apart when he sucked your clit right into his mouth, rolling the bead of it around on the flat surface. When you could feel yourself getting close to the edge, you threaded your fingers through his curls, keeping him close. 

The moment you lost it, everything in the room melted away from you - just a black expanse with flicks of color littered throughout it. 

You took a moment to catch your breath, trying to bring yourself, at least partly, back to reality. When you pulled away from him, you were met with the sight of him - the entire bottom half of his face slick with your come. 

He only let you watch in fascination as it dripped from his chin for a second before he was pushing you back, your head laid at the foot of the bed. He slipped his sweats off the rest of the way before crawling over you. 

There was no way you could have blamed him as he pushed in, seemingly not having any time for a slow entrance - you did make him sit there, untouched, for god knows how long. You certainly couldn’t name even a rough estimate for the amount of time passed. 

The spark of pleasure that shot through you made you throw your head back, your spine arching as you let out a whine. 

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” he breathed, through tight teeth.

“Yes,” you hissed as you ground yourself down onto him. “Keep going.”

Your eyes were closed, but you were sure he was wearing an awed expression. You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in until your foreheads were pressed together. When he started to move his hips, you let out a long, pleased hum, pressing your nails into the skin on his shoulders. 

Your whole lower half was still incredibly sensitive, so every time he brushed you, it made you writhe a bit beneath him. “Mm, fuck,” you growled as he intentionally reached down and pressed his thumb into your clit, the feeling resting somewhere between “just perfect” and “way too much”.  

He was biting his lip as he watched your reaction intently. You felt his hand snake down your outer thigh, gripping it from the bottom. He lifted it up, near-forcing you to wrap it around his hip.

The new angle was a different kind of feeling - something hot deeper in your gut like someone placed a smoldering ember in your belly.  You weren’t paying attention to anything but your own impending orgasm, so you didn’t expect it when he sucked your nipple into his mouth. He raked his teeth over the bud, causing your hips to jerk against him. 

When you opened your eyes and met his, you took a moment to absorb his expression - like he was seeing another dimension through your face. 

You could tell he was close when his lips fell open, but that was perfect because he was taking you with him. You hitched your legs around his hips and squeezed, letting your head tip back. 

When you came a second time, it was with his open mouth pressed to your throat, his hot breath hitting your damp skin. You let out a low whine, fingers tangled in his hair, probably a little too tight.

You suspected it was probably your muscles clenching in orgasm around him that set him off, a string of expletives falling from his kiss-swollen lips. His hips shuddered as he fucked you through it. 

The other side of your collective climax was warm and fuzzy, like watching home videos from the ‘60s. When he was able to hold himself all the way up, you ran your fingers through his damp curls affectionately. 

He was clearly trying to get his bearings, his breath flowing in and out of him like a tide. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered, sounding like he might not be able to speak any louder than he currently was if he wanted to.

 You hummed through a smile. “So good, Maybe never better.”

He rubbed his nose against yours, the smallest hint of an upward tilt to his lips. “I’m high as hell, so I’m not sure what’s acceptable for our situation right now, but can I kiss you?”

“We probably shouldn’t,” you admitted, making his expression fall slightly. 

He nodded at you in reluctant agreement. “You’re right.” 

You bit your bottom lip. “Ah, fuck it, we’ll start going back to normal tomorrow.”

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 10

.

@pocketramblr :)

.

One day - and not even a whole day, because of travel time and Inko wanted Izuku home for dinner- simply wasn't enough time to master a quirk. Although he could turn Float on and off, now. So, they made plans to come back next week, and the next, up until the sports festival. Which. Wow. Really was only two weeks away.

Izuku had never realized how close to the beginning of the school year it was.

He was going to die.

"You're not going to die," said Mr. Yagi. "I'm not going to say the sports festival isn't important, because it is, it's one of the best ways to make professional connections for students, but not doing well isn't the end of the world, especially not in your first year. No one expects you to be perfectly polished."

"But," said Izuku, "I'm supposed to be the next you! I've got to stand out, right?"

Mr. Yagi looked very guilty. "I... may have given you that impression when we were first training, yes. But, since then, with all my research into the past holders... few of them were popular, flashy heroes. If you want to walk the same path as me, that's great. But you don't have to. Even I didn't really start that chapter of my life until after college."

Izuku looked down at his hands, letting silence fill the space between them as he contemplated Mr. Yagi's words. "This isn't about me manifesting One for All differently, is it?"

"What? No, no of course not, my boy. I mean, it certainly helped me come to this conclusion, I wouldn't have done so much research without it! But I certainly hope I would have come to the same conclusion eventually, even so."

"Okay..." said Izuku, still dubious.

"I mean it," protested Mr. Yagi. "Most of my work is essentially underground, you know. There's a reason the battle trial was what it was."

"H-huh? You? Underground? But you're so recognizable!"

"Am I? I firmly believe in bringing all my resources to bear in the fight against evil! Ha ha!"

His laugh devolved into a cough, and he fumbled for a handkerchief. But he recovered quickly enough.

"I guess that makes sense," said Izuku, cautiously, once he thought Mr. Yagi wasn't going to start coughing again.

"You didn't think I stayed number one by popularity alone, did you?"

"I- the formulas the Hero Commission uses to determine rankings are secret, and it only includes spotlight heroes, so when I extrapolated the hero billboard rankings, yes, I assigned a high weight to popularity. There were always some discrepancies between my predictions and the end results, but I figured I missed some events, or the commission assigned them different values…"

"That's quite impressive, my boy. But, though popularity is a factor, the HPSC does take unpublicized fights and rescues into account. Assuming you report them…"

That was the second time Mr. Yagi had mentioned not telling the commission something.

"Do you, um, do you do that a lot? Not tell the commission things, I mean."

"Eh? No, no, I try to stay up on my paperwork. I get a lot of help from Naomasa, though. Some heroes, especially independent ones, without an agency, do have trouble keeping up, sometimes."

"It's just… the other day you said something about not telling the commission about All for One."

"Ah," said Mr. Yagi. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "You're quite right. How should I put this… The HPSC knows All for One exists, and I have made them generally aware of his modern exploits. I haven't told them about his ability to give quirks, though they may know through other avenues, there are certain battles I've had with him that I haven't told them about, and they do not know about One for All."

“Why not?”

“Villains aren’t the only ones who seek power,” said Mr. Yagi. “The HPSC provides a vital service, and I think what one does matters more than why one does it, but… it is my observation that many of the people there are more concerned with personal power than doing the right thing. And positions of power and authority tend to draw in those who would abuse those things."

"Even heroics?"

"Especially heroics. The HPSC Ethics Review Board is supposed to stop that, but no system is perfect." He shook himself. "But look at me! I was trying to give you a pep talk, not saddle you with doubts about the government!"

Izuku laughed, nervously. "I mean, you've definitely distracted me from the sports festival…"

“Yes. The sports festival. Don’t worry about making a big spotlight combat debut. If you want to focus on rescue, or investigation, or the underground, I’ll support you all the way.” He paused. “You do need combat, though, because, because of-”

“All for One?”

“Yes, exactly. All for One.”

.

“Way to kill the mood, guys,” said Banjo.

“I think the mood was thoroughly dead already,” said Yoichi.

“Unlike your brother,” said En. “Ninth’s father.”

“Come on, it was just a little omission of information. It wasn’t even a lie!”

“It was definitely a lie. You’re so lucky that my relief about you not being a pedophile eclipsed my righteous fury regarding your mendacity.”

“You know, the fact that you’re delivering that completely deadpan gives me doubts about the fury part.”

“I’m mad at you.”

“You love me.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be mad at you.”

“Hey, hey, wait a minute,” said Nana, making a ‘T’ shape with her hands. “Time out. Ninth’s father is All for One.”

“Yes,” said Yoichi, hanging his head, “I thought that had been established.”

“So, are we… What Toshinori is saying is completely valid, by the way… but, are we expecting this kid to fight his father? Is that a thing we’re doing?”

“Uh,” said Yoichi, “in our defense, we did think he was dead.”

“Maybe Eighth will get ‘im before Ninth has to deal with it,” suggested Banjo. “He’s got to have a better chance of that, now what with Fa Jin and all.” He paused. “But, you know what would give Ninth an even better chance, if he does have to fight his deadbeat dad-”

“He’s not a deadbeat,” interrupted Hikage.

“What?”

“Calling him a deadbeat would imply that he is neither supporting the Midoriyas financially nor regularly in contact with them. He is on both counts.”

“What?” squealed Bango.

“Did you miss his phone call with his father immediately following his return home after the USJ attack?”

“Oh,” said Yoichi, “no, I was very aware of my brother’s evil, evil voice. It’s just that these guys were too focused on scolding me to listen to anything I had to say. I still can’t believe he sent someone like that to attack his own son’s class.”

“Didn’t he, like, kill you?” asked En.

“No, my death was largely unrelated. You’ve got to remember, I was a chronically ill fugitive from the law with no money. Who told you that he killed me?”

Everyone looked at their immediate predecessor. Yoichi tracked the path back to Third, who had gone very stiff.

“What the heck, Third? You were there when I died. Why would you tell Hikage that?”

Third did not answer.

“Actually, what did he tell you, Hikage?

“Oh, it was very moving and heroic. It happened while you were saving a busload of metahuman orphans. You sacrificed yourself to let them get away from All for One. I even cried a little.”

“Is it weird that I’m now disappointed in myself for not dying like that?”

“Very,” said Nana.

“What were we talking about before this?” asked En.

“I have no idea,” said Banjo.

.

Izuku delayed going to class, nervous about everyone's reactions to his quirk. It wasn't that he thought they'd reject him, but more that he had no answers for the inevitable questions.

But he also didn't want to be late.

"Todoroki was so cool!" Hagakure exclaimed as he opened the classroom door. "He was all like, blam, bam, swish! And- and he checked whether or not I was there first, before attacking, which was super cool of him."

Todoroki's expression was halfway between 'statue' and 'help, I've been hit by a truck.' "Cool?"

"Very cool."

"You've grown since the first day, kero."

"Ah! Midoriya!"

All heads turned towards him. In the next second, he was hugged by several people, which was more friendly skin contact than he'd had since… ever, probably.

"Eep," he said.

"We were so worried about you," said Uraraka. "We made a group chat, after, but since you were unconscious…"

"Hm," said Monoma, "your quirk still is definitely a stockpile…"

"Monoma!" shouted Iida. "Did you join this hug just to copy quirks?"

"And what of it?"

"But speaking of quirks," said Jiro, "you can fly now? We kind of went along with it at the time, but that's kind of different from a sensory quirk."

"I know," said Izuku, "and I have no explanation."

"Maybe your quirk stockpiles danger," said Monoma, contemplatively. He rubbed his chin with one finger. "That could be why you can sense danger- you're stockpiling it. Then, when the danger gets over a certain threshold, you can release it as flight… why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Oh, nothing," drawled Kaminari. "Just that you're more thoughtful than you look, pretty boy."

"I don't want to hear that from you."

"Th-thank you, Monoma! I'll have to mention it when I go to quirk counseling next."

Which may or may not be this afternoon, depending on how Mr. Aizawa felt and- His head snapped to the door. "Mr. Aizawa's coming!"

They all rushed to their seats. The door creaked open.

"Oh my gosh, he's a mummy."

.

"Iida?"

"What is it, Midoriya?"

They were having a bit of a break during English while Present Mic cycled them through for short sessions with Hound Dog.

"I didn't have a chance to ask you earlier, but how's your brother?"

“He’s alright! It’s the first really major injury of his career, so he’s going to take it easy for the rest of the month, to make sure his engines heal properly. He’d prefer not to of course, but, ah, there is a silver lining.”

“That’s good,” said Izuku, encouragingly.

“I really shouldn’t be happy about it,” said Iida, rubbing the back of his neck, “but he’ll be able to come see me during the sports festival, and he probably would have been too busy if he were active.”

“I think it’s okay to be happy about good things, even if they happen because of bad things,” said Izuku. “It isn’t like we can go back and make the bad things not happen, after all…”

“That’s very true, Midoriya! What a mature way of thinking about things.”

Izuku didn’t know about that, but he was willing to take the compliment.

.

“Midoriya,” said Shouta, who was absolutely and unquestionably recovered enough to teach. Even if he had zoned out in the corner of the room in his sleeping bag all morning rather than trekking back to the teacher’s lounge… or teaching any of his other classes… shut up. “What are you doing at the window?”

“O-oh. Mr. Aizawa. I didn’t know you were awake?”

It was, maybe, a little unfair to single Midoriya out like that, since the entire class was standing by the window, and the way Uraraka, Sero, and Midoriya were closest to it, with Monoma a close fourth, was concerning, but Midoriya was the first one Shouta saw, and the one most likely to to cave and tell him what was going on.

“Midoriya.”

“R-right. Well, going out the door seems a little unpleasant today, so we thought we’d switch it up?”

What did that even mean?

“We were going to bring you with us, of course,” continued Midoriya.

What did that even mean?

“Out the window.”

“Um. Yes.”

“What kind of unpleasant are we talking about?”

“Battle trial unpleasant?”

Shouta groaned and hauled himself up, walking over to the door. He looked out the window and made note of all the students from other classes standing out there, circling like sharks. Great. Maybe they needed to have an assembly about respecting boundaries or whatever, especially if the people whose boundaries were being crossed were potentially traumatized.

Something to bring up at the next staff meeting he attended. Which… would probably not be soon.

Anyway.

He opened the door.

(“A mummy,” whispered someone.)

(First his kids, then these kids… he wasn’t that wrapped up.)

(Was he?)

“What are you all doing here?” he asked, voice rasping rather more than he wanted it to.

The students didn’t seem inclined to answer. Someone did mutter something about the sports festival, but it was far from the complete answer that Aizawa wanted.

“Right. Whatever. Scoping out the competition is one thing, but you are aware that class 1-A is recovering from a traumatic experience. And you’re blocking traffic. Clear off.”

The crowd slowly dispersed. Shouta sighed. He knew this would only be the first of many such incidents. He made a note to talk to Nemuri about whether or not she’d be willing to donate some of her class time to talk about public relations.

.

“You know,” said Nemuri, “if you actually rested, Recovery Girl would be able to heal you.”

“I know nothing of the sort,” said Shouta, glaring at his desk in the staff room. “I’m forgetting something.”

All Might walked in. “Er, young Aizawa,” he said. He paused for a painfully long, awkward moment. “Are you still meeting with young Midoriya today?”

“Crap.”

.

Did Izuku expect Mr. Aizawa to come to their meeting? No. The man had casts on all of his limbs. But, he hadn’t cancelled it either. So, better safe than sorry, right?

But it had been a while, now. Izuku could probably safely assume he wasn't coming after a half hour. He got up, packed his bags, and reached out for the door handle-

Only to freeze as Mr. Aizawa yanked it open and pulled Mr. Yagi into the classroom after him.

Izuku scurried back to his seat.

"Nothing physical today," croaked Mr. Aizawa. "We're going to figure out your quirk."

“O-okay,” said Izuku.

Aizawa collapsed into the seat behind the teacher's desk. “To be short, this quirk, One for All or whatever, is complete nonsense.”

“Uh,” said Mr. Yagi. “Sorry?”

“Sorry,” whispered Izuku.

“You should be. Not you, Midoriya. You’re fine.”

“Okay?”

“Right. So. You’ve got two quirks right now. Danger Sense and Float. Unless something else showed up over the weekend?”

“No, it’s, um, it is just those two right now.”

“And you’ll most likely get Smokescreen, Blackwhip, and that strength enhancement eventually. Plus two mystery quirks.”

“That is what I’ve been able to find out,” said Mr. Yagi.

“So, we have to figure out some way to get all those under a coherent umbrella that can account for the mystery quirks, and before the sports festival, so the evil immortal supervillain doesn’t notice that you have quirks just like a bunch of people he had personal beef with.”

Mr. Yagi cursed in English. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Yeah, I wonder what else you haven’t thought about. Maybe this year I can get Nezu to take my suggestion about doing hero names before the sports festival seriously. You know we’ve had people stalk students before because for some godforsaken reason we use their real names? I need a drink.”

“Ah, water?”

“No.”

“Young Aizawa, you’re a teacher…”

“A career choice I question daily. Midoriya, do you have any thoughts about how to make your quirk make sense in a way that won’t get you killed or abducted by the HPSC?”

“I- Does that happen?” despite his conversation with Mr. Yagi over the weekend, he still had generally positive thoughts about the hero commission.

“I have no idea. Wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Well, um, I was talking to Monoma earlier, and he said something about stockpiling danger, and how it might let out the stockpile as the energy necessary to levitate- which, really, would be a fascinating quirk if it did work that way- but I thought it might also work for Smokescreen and the strength enhancement? I mean, general responses to danger are fight, flight, or hide, so the strength enhancement is fight, Float is flight, and Smokescreen would be hide…”

“That might work. What about Blackwhip.”

“Yeah, that one has kind of stumped me.”

“Blackwhip sure is a problem,” agreed Mr. Aizawa.

.

The ghosts started laughing. “You’re a problem, Banjo,” chortled Nana.

“Come on, guys, that isn’t funny!”

"It is! It's hilarious!"

"They were just talking about All for One tracking the kid down and killing him!"

The mood sobered quickly.

"Considering that he is Ninth's father," said Hikage, "I suspect it's far too late for that."

"Yeah," said Yoichi. "But, just to be safe, and in case there are other weirdos out there, new rule: no giving him new quirks in public. Not that we can do anything about when he eventually manifests the stockpile…"

"What if he's going to die?" asked Hikage, raising his hand.

"He already got your quirk, why do you care?"

"We'd like to hear it," said Banjo, somewhat forcefully.

"Well, if he looks like he's going to die, do whatever you can to stop that from happening, I guess. But chucking a quirk he doesn't know how to use isn't always going to be the beat answer."

"Wait," said Nana. "Hold up a second. A few days ago we were talking about the potential for multiple quirk brain damage, weren't we?"

"Oh, good catch," said Yoichi. "I guess I forgot to mention it, which means Nana is the only one I'd trust babysitting my nephew in the event a quirk rewound him to elementary school age-"

"That is a suspiciously specific scenario," said En.

"-and all the rest of you are fired. You didn't even question giving him more quirks? Really?"

Hikage raised his hand. "I assumed you had discovered that Ninth had a constitution capable of handling multiple quirks, similar to yourself and your brother."

"That is true. Okay, Hikage would be another exception, but he's disqualified from babysitting for other reasons."

"That's fair."

.

"So we need something that can do all that, and has tentacles," said Izuku, squeezing his bottom lip in thought.

"Yeah," said Mr. Aizawa. "Honestly, even really dumb ideas would be welcome right now."

"Why are you looking at me?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"You know why."

There was only one creature Izuku could think of that could do all the things Izuku one day might be able to while maintaining room for the two mystery quirks. "Cthulhu."

Mr. Yagi looked mildly scandalized at the suggestion.

"Nah, it'd have to be something like eldritch. Cthulhu's trademarked in Japan, and that can give you aboveground types trouble."

"What is it a trademark for?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"Ask Midnight. I don't want to talk about it."

"Ah," said Mr. Yagi.

"The problem with that is that you currently have no justification to call it that. Now if you already had Smokescreen…"

The adults looked at him.

"... I don't think it's going to just show up like that," said Izuku.

.

"Why not?" asked Banjo, staring at En. "They practically asked you for it."

"Well, first off, I live for drama, so jot that down."

"Huh? What about me?" asked Yoichi.

"Nothing, it was just an idiom. Second…"

.

"...Right," said Aizawa. “For now, then, we’ll have to give it a temporary name, because it’s starting to get to the point in time where it’ll actually be illegal for you to not register it.” He shuffled his casts. “Yagi, start filling out those forms with what he can do currently. Midoriya, make sure you check him when he’s done. For now, we’ve got to come up with a name.”

“Um,” said Izuku. “Float’s the only one that’s really visible, so I could just call it Float?”

“Vetoed. You aren’t picking a name that the immortal supervillain knows.”

“He did seem to only refer to people by quirks unless he really hated them,” said Mr. Yagi. “Except his brother, who he always called ‘my foolish brother.’”

“Focus on the paperwork.”

“And he called himself by his quirk name as well,” mused Izuku. “Do you think it was a side effect? Quirks have document impact on people’s personalities-”

“Focus.”

“R-right. Um. Feather Fall? No, that’s part of a game. Flight Reflex?”

“Good enough for now,” said Aizawa. “Flight Reflex it is.”

[omegaobeyme]

I've been obsessed with Lady Gaga's, "Judas" Song...and it gave me an idea for a short Fic. A Devil's Angel Tags: PG13+, scene of violence/death, Angel/Human!MC, DiavoloxMc, Spoilers for lesson 16 Part 1/?

Diavolo was a glorified demon, rivaling strength to only 2 other realm leaders. Of course, if you asked any obedient servant of the throne, he was naturally the obvious winner. So what happens when you have all of the strength a being could dream of and more? You "make friends" apparently. There was no way this all-powerful man could be up to such a light-hearted task. Perhaps it was his butler, Barbatos, with such knowledge and time who guided Diavolo to urge such a conclusion. Had the green-haired demon known a war was to commence? Was Diavolo truly unfit to win such a battle, and therefore needed another way out? These questions filled your head as you stepped into your new dormitory. You were a human, just not too human entirely. Angels essence filled your being thanks to your ancestor, Lilith. You had even met Michael himself years back when her memories flooded yours as the angel essence was supposed to take you to heaven. Long story short, you were in a temporary coma after a car accident. Simeon shook you out of your head with a hand on your shoulder, "remember why you're here." He said, with the same smile he always gave. It was too suspicious for a soon-to-be demon lord to be asking for unity, and god wanted answers. This is where you came in: a seemingly innocent human whose in an extremely unique position to gain an advantage; and more importantly, knowledge. Solomon joined you for your first tea with Barbatos and Diavolo, time allowing. Knocking on the door, you were met with the tired eyes of the butler. "Welcome, over this way." Barbatos guided the pair of humans and you couldn't help but notice how unnervingly perfect this man was. It was as if a board has been placed against his back, perfectly aligning his spine starting at his hips, threaded through his neck. Finally, he motioned towards a satin couch placed within an openly lit common area, decorated with lavish antiques, artwork, and instruments. Solomon broke the silence, "Ah, Auguste Allaire?" "Indeed." The green-haired demon replied, understanding his question without having to look at the painting Solomon was referencing. "I would like to clarify this meeting is to get to know our human exchange students," He began lifting a tray off his serving cart, finished with matching teacups and plates for the both of us, "As humans, it's of upmost importan-" Doors burst open, featuring a particularly muscled demon prince. "Barbatos!" Diavolo smiled so wide his eyes managed to shut. Not only was his personality loud, his laugh was louder. "Sorry, sorry! I'm late, aren't I?" If you were embarrassed, you can imagine Barbatos' reaction in his own mind. He simply sat down and motioned for his Lord to follow suit. It was at this moment you thought it was a horrible prank you somehow got involved in. Months would pass, much like the meetings you had with the royals. During these moments you were allowed questions pre-approved by Simeon. "Why do you want to unite the realms?" and "What happened to the king?" All of which never satisfied any angels curiosity. It seemed for that you'd continue this way forever, until the day you knew of him. The sun gently glazed over your skin, sending shivers at the unexpected warmth of the devildom morning. Of course, it was Lucifer. "I know you better than to sleep in, MC." His gaze shifts to your own, as his back turns to face the now opened curtain of your room. "I'm sorry, I don't usually sleep in unless I'm sick." You weren't lying, it was unusual. "Oh? Perhaps it would be best for you to stay home. I'll have Satan take notes in your stead." Lucifer retorted, sparing you no opportunity to argue back. Then again...this would give you an opportunity to explore the house, especially to find anything Diavolo's "right hand man" might be keeping. Simply nodding, you rolled the covers over your head and set the alarm for another hour, knowing well a mostly human like yourself couldn't escape their well-trained eyes to watch them walk away. At 8 a.m, you awoke to find breakfast in a tightly-sealed container. However, hunger

could barely invade the anxiety creeping upon you. First in priority was making sure everyone was gone, no one in the kitchen, bedrooms, studies, or observatories. Now it was finally time...you took the steps towards Lucifer's room, each slower than the last. Lifting the back of your hand, you knock only to realize the door opening upon contact. The air was noticeably cooler, and his record player opened, as if suddenly stopped. You draw your attention towards his desk, the obvious choice. As you go through paperwork, you realize you can't find any, despite the mountains on his desk every night. Of course. They must've been brought to RAD along with his briefcase he brings every day. But there had to be something. Anything. Go through his bookshelves: nothing. Flip through his records: nothing. The closest lead you've got is a sticky-note in his book with a quote. You take off, looking for any other places he could possibly be storing such sensitive information, then it hit you: the upstairs. Lucifer had made it such a point to not venture upstairs, could he have been more oblivious of such a hint? Honestly, it was still scary to think about going up to an unknown part of the house, but you had no other choice. After checking the time, you begin making the climb only to find a hallway with one door. A loud bang comes from an unknown direction, and you flinch, thinking someone had come home. Then a low chuckle comes from the room in front of you, nearly taunting. Once you gather your emotions, you continue onward to face whatever lay in front of you, only to find a normal-looking human. "who-" "oh, are you the new playtoy?" he responds, "excuse me?" You step backwards, out of reach from his hands, "I don't know what you're talking about." His smile fades, "oh, you must be another human.." He's human, too? "I know what it looks like, but you're not safe here. Ask about Belphegor. Meet me again when it's safe. He's coming back." the blue-white haired male shrinks back into the darker area of the room, and before you can process, your feet run down to your room. Not too long after, a knock fills the empty air. The handle turns, and Satan makes his appearance visible. "Wow. You do look bad. Maybe you should get back to bed." you shake your head, attempting to mask the heartbeat in your chest. "No! No, I'm fine, I swear. What's in your hand?" attempting to avert his attention, you point to the notebook in his hand. "Oh, that. Well I came here to study with you since I heard you missed the day." Satan moved in towards your bed, laying the notebook on your bedstand and flipping to the nearest filled-in page. "Here's the theories we went over, and the elixir's following. I've already taken geography so I brought my old textbook to help, and then there's realm science." You hold your hand up for him to pause as you look over each notes. "Wait, Griffins horn? I thought it was powdered unicorn hoof." He smiles, "Nice catch. We go over it next semester, some things can be substituted for higher-grade materials depending on the molecular structure. If you take a look at..." Satan proceeds to take your mind off the previous situation for the next two hours. That is, until you get lost in thought. "MC? MC, snap out of-" "Who is Belphegor?" you interrupt, leaving him speechless. He clicks his tongue, hand on temple. Everytime he attempts to talk he groans in frustration. Panic settles upon your face unsure of what you had just asked. Had he just set you up? Was he another demon out to steal your soul? What will they do when they find out. "What do you know?" Satan manages to find words, "I-" you begin to lose yours. What does Belphegor mean? It seems like a name but what if- "You know what? I don't want to know. Keep it to yourself." He gets off from the edge of your bed and slams the door behind him. This wouldn't be the last time you heard of him, nor the last you saw. The next morning was eerie. You weren't dead, but..it somehow felt like it. No one came to let you know of breakfast, even after a few minutes of waiting. It

wasn't like you wanted to show your face either, you felt naked. When you did arrive, everyone at the table remained silent besides minimal conversations. Beelzebub no longer tried to steal your food, and Asmodeus wasn't trying to flirt with you. When Lucifer announced it was time to head to RAD, a weight had been lifted from the silence. After opening the door, you noticed another figure beside him. "Good morning, Mc. May I trouble you in taking you out of classes for another day?" Barbatos lightly tilted his head as his eyes looked upon your soul. "O-Of course." You took the hand provided, as he lead you to the castle. When you arrived, Barbatos told you to make yourself comfortable in the first living room. Before long, Diavolo appeared alongside him. "Mc! It's good to see you!" he beamed, arms opened for a hug. "And you as well, Diavolo." Quick to your feet, you met his courtesy. He brightened further when you returned his affection. "Do you by chance enjoy flowers?" Thinking back to the celestial realm, you nod. Taking your hand, he shows you to the garden out back. "Out of everything I was not expecting a garden.." "Really? What did you expect?" His arms crossed and he moved closer towards you, watching your expressions as you gathered your thoughts. "Well, for a demon, maybe stone statues or torture devices." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Is that what humans think now? Are we that cruel?" Diavolo jokes, until Barbatos chimes in, "Times have changed since young masters reign." as he finishes, you notice the plate of gourmet sandwiches prepared for the two of you, placed on a garden table not too far off. Together, you shared the next two hours together chatting alone. Without distractions clouding the brain, things seemed to appear as usual. The brothers began talking to you as normal, including Satan. Simeon hadn't brought up any information or lack thereof since the last meeting with Diavolo and Solomon. In fact, Diavolo seemed to be taking more time out of his schedule to spend with you alone, rather than the two human exchange students. It was nice, for a change; until you remembered what occurred with the Belphegor situation. "So, why did you ask me here in the first place?" Diavolo noticed your body language shifting for a few minutes now, but he knew something was coming at this point. "Today? Well, I enjoy the company of-" "No, Dia. When you first brought me to this garden." It couldn't be helped, you had now formed a friendship with Diavolo. He knew too much about you and how you truly acted when you were yourself, rather than the puppet an angel could use. Emotions conflicted, parts of you yearned to let loose, yet at the same time, what if it was all just an act? What if you had fallen right into his trap, and he knew all along? Just like the dictator Michael had expected. Putting his cup aside, he took a brief pause before answering. "Satan told me that day what had occurred. I thought it best to ensure my exchange student's --" Diavolo stopped as you stood up, allowing your exit. "Tired. So fucking tired." You thought to yourself as you made your way home to the house of Lamentation. Of course, not only did the oh-so-friendly prince take you out of classes once a week, he adjusted your course schedule to reflect such changes. All you could think was how pathetic you are for allowing this to happen under your watch. You never felt fit for this job, but never more so in this moment. Hesitation couldn't be found as you made your way up the stairs into the room. "You're back. Angry. Cat got your tongue?" He was obviously trying to rile you up and it was working. "So who is Belphegor? Are you trying to get me killed?" At this point, he bursts out laughing, "you think this is funny?!" you scream out. "Very." He stops, looking directly into your eyes. "And you're only helping me escape. How about I tell you a secret? I'm not even a human. I know you understand that by now, but I'm Belphegor, the last brother. And you just helped me escape." Before you knew it, hands wrapped around your neck. It was

gentle enough to find release, running downstairs and towards the front door. It was always apparent there was risks, but that's why you had the angels blessing! So why are you so close to death?? Before you could turn the handle, it moves itself. Belphie takes the chance to knock you off your feet, immobilizing you and landing you upon your back. The door opens as Belphegor protrudes claws into your most vital organ, and cold rushes over you, processing the last visuals of Lucifer's shock with Diavolo behind him. "Open your eyes." You wince. He's on top of you, how could you look? There's no way a human could escape the wrath of a demon. "Did you forget about me?" the voice echoes. What? Opening your eyes, you find nothing but white space. Suddenly, a door appears in front of your body. "Don't waste it. And don't forget where you came from." Lilith? There's no way...but then, this couldn't be a dream. It felt too real. On the other side of the doorframe was your last visual before you died, from another perspective. Glimpses flash from her own memories as it floods into your own.. in a flash, your perspective of yourself and the brothers around you changes. You could see the door Lucifer held opening in mere seconds. He froze, in shock of seeing Belphegor out. What's more, the man behind him couldn't see. The red haired demon pushed through, to find the worst fate. Immediately transforming, he flies to your dead body's side. Anger wouldn't be enough to describe what you witnessed in his eyes, nor the grief he was going through. This wasn't normal. Nothing in your body felt that what you were watching was normal. A king's priority should be on subduing Belphegor, and here he was at your deceased version's side. Suddenly, Belphegor's words filled the air. "DON'T FUCKING DARE, FOR THEM? HAHAHA!" You've never heard such a deranged laugh before. Lucifer's eyes opened even further upon processing what Diavolo was accomplishing. Tears couldn't be found in Diavolo's face, he was far beyond it. Whatever was happening, Belphegor didn't dare interrupt. "L-Lord Diavolo, you can't sacrifice yourself for-" Diavolo paid no mind to his right hand mans attempt at stopping him, taking a deep inhale, hands at his horns. "I apologize mother, but I can assure you I won't be wasting your gift." time slows further as Diavolo begins to pull away at his horns. "STOP." Every head turns to look at you, including Diavolo. It wasn't until you died that it hit you. The moments before anyone realized you came back you saw his selfless actions for yourself.

[sassyhobbits]

Can we get more of rowaelin playing chess in canon? It'd be so funny!

yea! i have a lil something something up my sleeve! enjoy!

(also plz be gentle my chess notation is NOT good)

~~~

Aelin Galathynius worked well under pressure.

Better than well, to be honest. Her life had been on the line often enough that working under pressure had become second nature. Her work as Celaena Sardothien had always been intense, and being a queen was no easier.

All of her practice over the years was the only reason she hadn’t cracked yet.

She sat across from Rowan, chess board situated between them. Both of their brows were furrowed in concentration, leaned forward and staring intently at the black and white pieces. Their game had been going on longer than any of their other matches had in the past.

Aelin hadn’t expected it to last this long. It was almost Yulemas, and most of their court had made the journey to Orynth for the holiday. They had been drinking and lounging around the parlor, warmed by the blazing fire Aelin tended to. Somehow, she and Rowan had migrated towards the chess board and set up a game, a practice that was becoming standard between them in the evenings.

As the game went on, as they manipulated the pieces and schemed and thwarted one another, they had slowly gained an audience. It started with Elide, who was an excellent player herself, always seeing three steps ahead. Then, Fenrys, who provided unwanted commentary. Lysandra and Aedion paid a bit of attention, but neither of them were that fond of the game anyway. Finally, Lorcan begrudgingly stood behind Elide and watched them play.

With every game Aelin played against her husband, she got better. Rowan was a damned good player and never went easy on her.

Rowan had been studying the board for longer than Aelin had ever witnessed him do. She had made the last move, blocking the play she knew her husband had been trying to make. It had gone on like that for a while, shifting pieces strategically, no clear winner in sight.

Aelin glanced up from to board to the male across from her, a small smile on her lips as she noted his furrowed brow. He looked quite handsome, not that she should be thinking about such things now. It would only distract her.

A few more moments went by, the air filled by the crackling of the fire and tiny whispers between their crowd.

“Draw?” Aelin offered. She had never managed to come to a draw with him before, but this might be the day. She felt as though she had run through every possible move on the board and she couldn’t find a way to victory for either of them.

“No,” Rowan said with a single shake of his head.

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him, wishing she knew what was going on in that head of his. He must have been seeing something she hadn’t if he wasn’t going to agree to a draw.

“I would have taken the draw,” Aedion murmured to no one in particular.

“That’s because you’re a shit player, Aedion,” Fenrys shot right back.

Everyone fell silent when Rowan shifted, reaching towards the board, grabbing his remaining knight, placed it down, before looking up. “Check mate.”

Aelin blinked in disbelief. There was no way that was checkmate but… she studied the board as if it might change for her.

“Oh, you bastard!” Aelin hissed in fury, knocking over her king.

There was a little self-satisfied smirk on Rowan’s face that she could tell he was trying to hide, but did so unsuccessfully. "Great game, Fireheart. Your best yet."

"Don't compliment me. I'm mad at you."

"That was an excellent play, Rowan," Elide commented, studying the board a bit more.

"Don't compliment him either!" Aelin cried. "It'll go right to his fat head."

"You're a sore loser, cousin."

Aelin’s returning snarl was nothing short of viscous.

"I don't understand why you all are so invested in this," Lorcan grunted. "It's just a game."

"Spoken like someone who doesn't know how to play," Aelin taunted.

He glared. "I'm five hundred years old. I know how to play chess."

Aelin glanced across towards her husband, a glimmer in his eyes that seemed to say, Kick his ass, Fireheart.

She grinned wickedly, turning back to Lorcan and gestured at the board. "Indulge me in a game then, Lord Lochan."

In the years she had known Lorcan, Aelin had learned his pride never let him back down from a challenge. Especially if Aelin was the one offering it. He simply loved to prove her wrong.

So it wasn't surprising when Lorcan huffed and ground out a tight, "Fine."

Aelin started setting up the board once more, Rowan bequeathing his seat to Lorcan. She had never once seen Lorcan play chess before, and judging by the veiled excitement in Fenrys and Rowan’s eyes, neither had they. Oh, they were about to witness a massacre.

Aelin grabbed two pawns, one white and one black, mixing them up before holding them out in two clenched fists. She inclined her head towards her opponent. "Choose one."

Lorcan didn’t deliberate long before tapping her left hand, which held the white pawn. He seemed pleased at this fact.

He looked at the board for a heartbeat before moving his F pawn up one square. Aelin squinted, wondering if he would be foolish enough to make the move she was thinking of. She moved her king's pawn two spaces.

And then the bastard did it. He moved his G pawn up two squares. Aelin wasn't able to hold back her loud bark of laughter. Neither did their audience.

"Oh, you did not just make that move!" Aelin snickered.

"What?" he snapped. "What's wrong with that move?"

Aelin could only shake her head as she continued to laugh, moving her queen on its diagonal and settling back in her seat. "Check mate."

Lorcan merely blinked at the board as Fenrys howled with laughter beside them.

"Five hundred years old…" Aelin mused. "And you just got Fool's Mated by a twenty-three year old woman. How does that feel?"

Lorcan merely scowled, moving the pieces back to the start. "Again."

The queen shrugged, placing her pieces back in their starting position. She generously allowed him to play white again, beginning by moving his queen’s pawn up two spaces, clearly not wishing to make the same deadly mistake he made the last time.

Aelin would give it to him. Lorcan lasted longer this game. Not much, though. In four moves, Aelin had captured his queen, and with eight more, she had mated him once more, making Lorcan release a filthy curse.

“Again.”

So, they went again, Aelin playing white this time.

She won with twenty moves.

Lorcan banged his fist on the table. “Fuck. Let’s go again.”

They went again.

It took twenty-one moves for Aelin to win once more.

The young queen leaned back in her seat, satisfied smirk on her lips. She felt rather than saw Rowan beaming at her proudly.

Lorcan shook his head at the board, fingers tangled within his long, inky hair.

“No need to feel bad, Lord Lorchan,” Aelin drawled, stretching her legs in front of her. “We can’t all be good at everything… well, I can, but I can’t hold you all to that same expectation.”

Elide perched herself on the arm of her husband’s chair, pressing a long kiss to his temple. “It’s okay, love. I can help you practice.”

“Yeah,” Fenrys agreed. “Maybe with a few hundred years, you’ll be able to beat Aedion.”

Lorcan scowled at Fenrys, but wrapped his massive arms around Elide and pulled her firmly into his lap.

“I like to watch you win, Fireheart,” Rowan murmured against the shell of her ear before kissing her cheek.

She grinned, poking her index finger into the middle of her mate’s chest and vowed ,“Just wait, husband. You’re next.”

[momocicerone]

Rush

Fandom: Detective Conan / Case Closed

Pairing: Miyano Shiho | Haibara Ai / Kudo Shinichi | Edogawa Conan

Genre and Rating: Romance/Supernatural; T

Summary: “And you’re either terribly cruel or incredibly naive to ignore the imminent repercussions. You’re a walking feast in front of a starving predator, Miyano-san. This can’t end well for either of us.”

A/N:  Written for the Coai Mysterium Fanzine back on June, you can download it for free on :coai.itch.io/mysterium-fanzine

Support me on ko-fi: @ momocicerone

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“ Breathe. ”

The word that was meant as a demand comes off sounding like a plea, ragged and desperate as the subject twists his body uncomfortably, the hard edges of his leather restraints painting deeper shades of purple in his paper-white skin. 

Shiho casts an inquisitive look at the creature tightly strapped to her examination chair. The once tall and menacing figure is now curled up on his shoulders, his dark disheveled hair falling over his face and hiding his eyes away. A subtle quivering has taken over his scar-struck body, turning his breathing into erratic, strained puffs of air. 

Pushing back the urge to sweep the bangs off his face so she can meet his gaze, she manages to swallow through the knot in her throat and ask in a somewhat calm tone. 

“I beg your pardon?”

The creature lets out a faint groan, slowly raising his head to look at her with those mystifying blue eyes that draw her in like a moth to the fire. She clutches her writing board tighter to her chest, his voice broken velvet in her ears.

“When you hold your breath like that, your blood— it rushes like mad. I can feel your blood pressure going up.”

“You can feel it?”

He hazards a slightly condescending smile through his discomfort. 

“Does that bother you?”

Shiho holds his stare for a long second before pushing her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose. 

Deep breaths. 

She scribbles something intelligible into her notebook. 

“What else can you feel?”

He seems to consider for a brief second if he should answer at all, then purses his lips in a dismissive pout before elaborating.  

“Your heartbeat. Every vein pulsing in your body… the surge of blood that rushes through your neck— and now you’re blushing .” He observes with amusement, the smile now turning into a smirk. His blue eyes shine with mirth, curiosity written all over his features. “Alas, you aren’t very qualified to be doing this, are you? Or is that why you’re here… did they handpick you to test me?”

She straightens her back, her pen furiously carving her embarrassment into her papers. If for whatever reason he’s trying to rile her up, he’ll have to try harder.

“You’re deluding yourself, Kudo-san,” the scientist simply answers.

Inexplicably, he chuckles. A resigned, tortured sound that’s devoid of amusement.

“And you’re either terribly cruel or incredibly naive to ignore the imminent repercussions. You’re a walking feast in front of a starving predator, Miyano-san. This can’t end well for either of us.”

“Well, it won’t for you, if you don’t cooperate,” she reminds him coldly. He sure seems confident for someone who’s tied up to a chair with tubes coming out of them. “So I suggest you cut the bullshit right now. Your intimidation game is pitiful, if that’s what you’re trying to do.”

“Yet you’re still blushing. I wonder why.”

Her lips purse into a frown.

“It’s called aggravation.”

Shinichi tilts his head as a lopsided smile spreads lazily on his lips.

“Look at that, you’re actually cute when you lie. Who would have thought?.”

The strawberry blonde rolls her eyes, taking a deep breath that turns into a sigh. 

“How’s the synthetic blood working?”

The sudden change of topic seems to work in her favor, she notices as he makes a face of absolute disgust, all condescension gone.

“Horribly, thanks for asking. Can we go back to chicken blood before I die of food poisoning?”

Her eyes wander from his messy dark hair to the dull-white skin of his face, the dark circles under his eyes augmented by his hollow cheekbones. She concedes.

“You do look terrible, I’ll give you that. ”

He snorts in good humor and deadpans.

“Gee. Thanks for noticing.”

And the simple gesture shouldn’t make her want to laugh in response — it’s unprofessional and frankly speaking, a bit heartless of her. But the man has always managed to trigger the most unexpected reactions from her since he was brought into her lab half a year ago. She should know better than to break the unspoken rule number one — she should know better than to get attached to her test subject.

Shiho nibbles her lower lip, trying to ward off the intrusive thoughts as she doodles some words into her notes.

“But we can’t give up this early, no. I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to endure a little longer before we can evaluate changing your treatment.”

A pained, angry expression distorts his face.

“It’s futile. You know it. There’s no cure.”

“We can’t be sure unless we try.”

“You can’t treat this like some sort of illness!”

She closes her notebook and looks at him with genuine curiosity.

“You don’t think you’re sick? Kudo-san, you’re barely human anymore.”

He breaks into a derisive laugh, so loud and sudden it takes her by surprise.

“Well, so are you,” he wheezes, bitterness dripping off every word. “We aren’t that different, you know. Or are you going to pretend that you don’t know what happens here, what they do to us? Where’s your humanity that you speak so highly of? So full of yourself, when you don’t even have the guts to stand by when they cut me open. You aren’t any different from them or from me, Miyano-san. So you might as well choose a side.”

The accusation burns like hot steel on flesh, her conscience charred with guilt and embarrassment. She’s quick to brush those thoughts aside, telling herself she shouldn’t fall for his mind games. 

“Choose a side?” She scoffs, finding the thought nothing short of outrageous. “What do you mean by that?”

He leans as forward as his cuffs allow him to, his voice a solemn whisper.

“Let me go. I can protect you.”

She forgets how to breathe, which is maybe the reason why his face twists into a painful wince. Gathering herself, she feigns nonchalance.

“ Tempting . I’m afraid I shall decline your offer, though. You see, eternal damnation isn’t currently on my list.”

Their eyes meet for the longest couple of seconds before he lets himself fall back into his seat with a resigned sigh. However, the daunting smirk never leaves his lips.

“ Eternal damnation, huh?” He chortles with levity. “What was that about science and cures again? You can’t have both. And for the record, I wasn’t asking for your soul.”

“It was a rhetorical statement.” She snaps, irritated by his condescension. “Besides, if you really are what they say… why would you still have a heartbeat?”

“I’m cursed, not dead.”

“Well, I’d like very much to un-curse you, then. If you would kindly stop complaining.”

Shinichi laughs again, and the sound makes her insides twirl with an unknown feeling she’s starting to get used to.

“If breaking the curse is what you want, shouldn’t you try doing it the old-fashioned way?” He has the gall to joke, cheeky attitude and all.

Shiho’s face turns as red as her hair, and the man in the chair anguishes at her reaction — but that’s his own damn fault for making such outlandish jokes! She raises her chin, shooting him a disdainful, evaluating look.

“Last time I checked, you resembled a bat, not a frog.”

“ Ouch. ”

“...And for the record , I wasn’t offering.” 

“Your soul?” He grins brazenly. “Or a kiss?”

“Neither,” she remarks curtly.

Although, judging by the way his laughter starts a turmoil of fluttering butterflies in her heart, she’s starting to suspect either offer would inevitably lead to the other. 

[angstsfordays]

Beautiful Pain (2)

Chapter Two- Here I Am

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-Blip world.

Chapter synopsis: Shocking news brought you and Bucky back together with Sam. You three find out that a new threat arises in a post-Blip world.

Warnings: A bad word or two or three because come on, John Walker is in this chapter.

Word count: 4.5k

Notes: This chapter is nothing too crazy but warming up as it delves into the tv series' storyline. Here you can see how the reader's character plays out in the storyline.

I started a tag list for this series! Let me know if you want to join in with a message or comment in the chapters!

Leave a like, reblog or comment to let me know what you think! 🥰

Previous: Prologue | Chapter One |

Next: Chapter Three

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Bucky promised to make your coffee while you went to take a shower after you came back. Switching off the hairdryer, you placed it back in its place before stepping out of the bathroom.

Perking up at the sound of the television, you made your way to find Bucky sitting on the floor. Seeing he made no sign of acknowledgement at your presence, you looked up to see what he was so entranced at.

Eyes averting to the screen, you saw a man being interviewed at what seemed like a stadium in the background. Scanning over his features, you quickly noticed the familiarity in his suit and how he was supposed to remind you of someone you held dear in your heart.

The caption that appeared on the bottom of the screen only added on to confirm your suspicions. A sudden rush of emotions started to wash over you like a huge tide.

Disbelief. Outrage. The nerve.

You glanced over to Bucky who was sitting still with a disbelieving look when the announcer asked her next question.

“Did you know Steve Rogers?” Before you knew it, you already started to shake your head in disapproval as the man, John Walker started to respond to the question.

He spoke of how he closely followed Steve’s career as an Avenger and drew inspiration in his work from Steve, citing him as a role model. Nodding in satisfaction at John’s answer, the announcer continued. “You’ve always wanted to be a hero?”

John Walker answered that he liked that his job would help to make people feel safe. He added how Steve was someone who was able to accomplish that and gave him hope.

While his answers sounded pleasant enough, you couldn’t help but feel displeased with it. His next sentence only served to make you feel worse.

“Even though I never met him, he feels like a brother.” John Walker could have chosen any other words. Mentor. Role model. The fact that he said brother like as if he wanted to draw some sort of association to Steve felt wrong.

You immediately kneeled down to Bucky’s level and waited for him to look back at you. Bucky shook his head while clenching his jaw tight.

“Buck….” Whispering his name gently, you hoped to get him to open up on what he was feeling.

“This is just wrong. I can’t believe….how could Sam even-” Struggling to put together his emotions properly, you gave him a soothing rub on his shoulders to ease his flustered state.

“I know, I understand.” You went ahead to embrace him in a side hug. Bucky leaned in and rested his head in the crook of your neck, relishing in the comfort you were giving to him.

“We need to talk to Sam.” He gave you an affirmative stare before you nodded in agreement.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Waiting around absent-mindedly at the hangar, you were brought back to focus when you heard Bucky speak up and already walking towards Sam.

“Shouldn’t have given up the shield.” You could hear how Bucky was trying to hold in his distaste and quickly followed behind him.

“Good to see you, Buck.” Sam acknowledged him in response. You could tell that Sam was trying to avoid the topic of conversation as he continued in his tracks only to stop when his eyes met yours.

“How’ve you been doing?” Sam took a step forward to give you a quick hug and you grinned at the sight of your friend.

“I’ve been good, Sam. How about you?” You asked to which he said he was doing alright.

“You still not tired of him?” Sam made a quip and you bit your lips to prevent a burst of laughter from coming out. You nervously glanced to see Bucky not looking one bit amused by the exchange and averted your eyes away.

“This is wrong.” Bucky tried to bring up the topic again to which Sam tried to put down. He remarked that he was now working and whatever outrage Bucky was having had to wait.

They continued their argument as they bickered back and forth about their views on John Walker becoming the new Captain America. Even saying that in your head left a sour taste.

Sam tried telling Bucky that there was nothing he could do to rectify the situation. He gave the shield away to the government and it was no longer in his hands. Retracting the decision simply cannot be done.

You understood both of their perspectives and you couldn’t take a side entirely. Yes, you all felt the heavy emotions about having Steve’s legacy just handed over to someone who you weren’t even sure was deserving of it. John Walker might be an exemplary soldier but he wasn’t the one that Steve chose to take over him.

Then again, you recalled how Sam was still unsure if he could leave up to Steve’s legacy and even remarked that the shield didn’t feel like it wasn’t his own, but someone else’s. You were sure that it was definitely not an easy decision for Sam to make and he wouldn’t have made it if he knew what the government had decided to do with the shield once they had their hands on it.

You winced at the heated exchange as your friends continued to assert their points. Sam had enough of the conversation and stressed that he now has work that he needed to attend to. Bucky scoffed at how Sam could even disregard the matter but Sam went on to tell you two about an online group called the Flag Smashers that seemed to have connections with rebel organisations across Europe.

He had intel from Redwing about their last known location and that was where he was heading to. Bucky gave a disapproving look and talked about his mistrust of the tech.

Even though Bucky was dear to you, you couldn’t help to sigh at how stubborn he is.

Sam went on to say that he wants to check if this group could be part of the Big Three. Bucky gave a confused look before asking what’s that. Sam looked like he couldn’t believe what Bucky had just said.

The two continued to have another exchange, but one that you now observed to be light-hearted and displaying their child-like tendencies only when they are around each other. You shook your head and just thought, men.

Sam decided he didn’t have time for any more banter and made his way to the plane with Bucky insisting on going with him. Well, guess that’s where you’re heading then.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Somehow, Bucky managed to get his hands on a tactical jacket and suited up. You looked down to your tailored suit, one that you often wore as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. It was not the most mission friendly, but it will do.

It had been an hour since you have boarded the plane but Bucky and Sam had not spoken since. You found yourself to be the buffer between the two and couldn’t help but feel a little awkward.

“Hey Y/N.” Your head tilted up from looking at the ground when you heard Sam calling for you.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, I haven’t been in touch but what’ve you been up to lately?”

“Oh, not much. I recently reached out to Wanda, wanted to see how she was doing.” Sam nodded in understanding before continuing to ask if you had found any work. You weren’t sure where to start because you didn’t know how to.

Given your condition as an enhanced and recalling your last meeting with someone from the state office, you couldn’t find do much without getting on their radar. You were lucky you still had some money left to tide you over but you honestly do not know how you were ever going to get a proper job.

“I’ve been volunteering with a social service centre.” You answered after taking some time. When Sam gave you a surprising look to your answer, you started cracking your knuckles- a habit you had when you got nervous. Sensing your nerves, Sam decided to withhold himself from prying further.

“That’s nice to hear. An unexpected career change but it’s a good job.” He tried to reassure you.

“Yeah, I’m still not sure what I want. You know after everything that has happened.” Sam did not say anything else but just nodded in agreement.

You suddenly felt a hand on yours and looked to see Bucky glancing at you with slight concern. You tried to muster up a smile to show that you were alright.

Looking down to the ground again, you missed the intense staring contest that started between the two men as Torres announced the one-minute mark before drop-off. When you heard the plane door being opened, the two men went forward to get their comms.

Bucky passed you yours before turning to ask Sam on what’s the plan. Sam kept silent and Bucky scoffed at the fact that Sam had none.

“No, you can’t call me that.’” Bucky retorted when Sam called him Buck.

Sam questioned why not and claimed that you and Steve could call him that.

“Steve knew me longer and I actually like Y/N so she can call me that. Steve also always had a plan.” You took a double-take at what Bucky just said and tried not to overthink. He only meant you were tolerable in his eyes compared to Sam.

Sam could not deal with Bucky’s attitude before walking off to the door and countering that he indeed had a plan. When Bucky asked once more about it, Sam just leapt off without a reply.

Rolling his eyes, Bucky asked Torres for the parachute but was told that there wasn’t any. Bucky stalked off towards the door and claimed he didn’t need one anyway. Torres gave him a second glance and asked if he was sure.

Bucky affirmed that he was fine and then proceeded to tear off the sleeve of his jacket. You had to control yourself from laughing out loud at his dramatics and he glanced back at you.

“Buck, you know I can help you down-” You tried to convince him before he jumped off first and you heard the yelling after.

Letting out a groan at your stubborn 106-year-old friend, you rested your hands on your waist as you looked out the door over the landscape.

“Mam?” Torres looked over at you in curiosity.

“I’m not that old, Lieutenant.” You grimaced at how he addressed you even if it was a sign of respect.

Huffing out a sigh, you thought here goes nothing.

Fisting your hands by your side, you took a deep breath and channel your energy towards your palms. Fanning your hands out, Torres was taken aback when energy flames emitted from your palms and you used it to propel yourself off the ground and out of the door.

It has been a while since you flew and you took a moment to steady yourself before trying to look for where Bucky landed.

You could hear Sam talking to Bucky on the comms about his less than graceful fall and couldn’t help but giggle before finding your way to the building with Bucky. You had to stifle your laughter when Bucky tried to swipe Redwing off as his irritation grew.

Once you met up with Sam, he went to note that the people you were after were in the building. Your friends being the ‘friends’ that they were started to clash once more about how to go about this mission.

Bucky went to use his expertise as an assassin to assess the situation and stealthily walked ahead first. Sam was amused at how he came out as a white panther after his time in Wakanda to which Bucky corrected as white wolf.

Sam gave you a confused look to which you shrugged your shoulders in response. It was a story for another time.

The two of you caught up to Bucky faster than he thought. When the two started bickering again about the next course of action and trying to one-up the other, you had enough and placed your hands over both parties mouth to shush them.

“Enough the both of you, I feel like a kindergarten teacher with two children engaging in childish conflict.” You hissed to show your annoyance at the both of them. Seeing you this upset got Sam and Bucky to take a step back and tone it down.

When you let go of your hands, you expected them to behave but they continued to stare at each other. Bucky wanted to quickly proceed while Sam wanted to wait it out. Their bickering caused a slight commotion and you were suddenly wary that you might have alerted the group of your presence.

All three of you stood still before observing that it was all still good. You heard someone instructing the group to get a move on and Sam used Redwing to check that there might be a hostage on board.

Once you heard the vehicles rolling out, all of you sprang into action. You and Sam took to the air while Bucky went full speed ahead on the grounds. Everything happened so fast all at once and before you knew it, Bucky opened the doors of the truck and spotted the hostage. He noted that medicines and vaccines were in the truck.

As you processed the information, you could hear him talking to the hostage before you heard the loud slam next.

You saw Bucky suddenly got shoved back and slammed into the front of the truck that was following behind. You noted a redhead woman who put on a mask and then the other two men who hauled Bucky up to the roof of the truck.

Seeing that both men whom you assumed were incredibly strong to hold Bucky down, you went for those guys first while Sam took care of the woman. You tried throwing a few punches at them but they barely flinched.

You turned your back to see Sam being thrown off to the next truck by the woman and another huge man with shoulder-length hair going for Sam. Who were these guys and how did they have such strength? It was almost like they were….

Your next thoughts were interrupted when you sensed a fist coming your way to which you dodged. You tried to hold your ground by avoiding the attacks. They keep coming relentlessly and you knew you couldn’t hold back. You had to use your powers now.

Channelling your powers to your fist, you sent a blast of energy to knock down the two men that held Bucky down. The woman turned to look at you in surprise at the sight of your abilities.

You wanted to go for the man that was about to attack Sam before you heard the sound of metal clashing. Your head tilted up to see a helicopter with someone peering down. He swooped down onto the truck and you immediately recognised who he was.

Why was he even here? You briefly thought before you turned your focus to the fight. John Walker proceeded to use the shield almost effortlessly to knock down members of the Flag Smashers before introducing himself. His partner followed after. They both claimed to help before everyone started to focus on their own fights.

You used your powers to knock people over and fend yourself. In the midst of all the actions, you noticed that Bucky got knocked down and was holding onto the bottom of the truck, avoiding to fall flat onto the road surface. You wanted to help him but got stopped by the man with shoulder-length hair.

You raised both hands surging with flaming energy and saw how he stood still for a moment. You believed that he was more hesitant knowing you were an enhanced individual.

“Be warned, this might leave a burn.” You were nice enough to give a heads up. Before he could take another step further, his companions took you by a chokehold. You grabbed onto the person’s arms and gave them a slight burn.

The person exclaimed in pain and let go. You saw that Bucky and Sam were nowhere in sight while John Walker’s partner was out. Another person came for you and you let out a burst of energy that blinded everyone in their surroundings with its sheer brightness.

You saw how everyone hunched over and the shoulder-length haired man started backing down and it led to him leaning over to almost fall off the truck.

On instinct, you went over to grab his hand. Even though he was the enemy, you didn’t want to take lives unnecessarily. You felt him grabbing onto your arm tightly and pulled him back up by having your right arm blasting energy to weigh you down on where you stood.

He managed to recover and you left him be. You looked over to see John Walker taking on the redheaded woman but to no avail as he got shoved off the truck and landed on the front of a car below.

Seeing that you were the only one left, you gulped as you realised you were outnumbered. Should you even take the risk? Before you can think of your next actions, someone came up from behind you again and you quickly turned to intercept.

What you lacked in strength, you made sure to utilise your powers. You managed to slam the person down in a chokehold which you learnt from Natasha and aimed a fist that was covered in energy flames.

You heard a loud ‘NO’ and before you realised you were picked up and dragged off to be thrown off the truck. Quickly gathering your energy to soften your blow, you barely floated off the ground as your energy acted as a cushion to lift you off the surface.

Letting yourself stand steady on the ground, you didn’t give John Walker and his partner a second look before you flew off to find your friends.

-------------------------//---------------------------

When you found Bucky and Sam, they were huddled together in a flower field. The two of them looked more irritated than ever. You gave both of them a hand and pulled them up. You gave Bucky a glance over and noticed he had a bruise forming near his eyes.

He shook it off like it was nothing and asked after you. You reassured him that you were alright, just a little worn out. You asked after Sam and was glad to know he did not sustain any major injuries.

The three of you decided to make your way back on foot. The road ahead looked far and Sam started to strike up a light-hearted conversation with Bucky. You quietly listened in as you were too tired to even bother participating.

You smirked at how even though Sam was trying to tick Bucky off, you knew he only had good intentions to check on Bucky’s state of mind.

Bucky ignored whatever Sam said and then noted that there was a need to find out where the group back there got their super serums from. Sam couldn’t fathom how eight super soldiers were on the loose after eighty years.

You chimed in that you thought that the super-soldiers were eliminated in Siberia years ago. As you three were figuring out, you heard a vehicle coming from behind you. You saw it was John Walker and he stopped slightly ahead to open the door for you three.

You were almost slightly tempted to save your aching legs if not for the fact you weren’t so keen on him.

The men were all in a discussion about the group and you could all confirm for a fact that they weren’t part of the Big Three. In fact, they had to be super soldiers. John Walker proposed to work together but Bucky wasn’t having any of it.

“Just because you carry the shield doesn’t mean you’re Captain America.” Bucky shot back harshly. John Walker with that thick skin of his brushed it off and countered that he was more than qualified.

You could not stop yourself from intervening this time.

“Being Captain America is more than about just being a good soldier! There’s a lot more where it comes from.” Sam and Bucky felt the emotions from your statement, knowing that it wasn’t just out of distaste for the new ‘Captain’ but of how you really felt about Steve’s legacy.

Hearing your words, John Walker let out a sigh before continuing to persuade everyone again. He claimed that it was still a long way to the airport and that you should just accept the ride. Asking the driver to stop the vehicle once more, you, Sam and Bucky gave each other another look before you all hopped on.

Sam went in first. Bucky was ahead of you but stopped short before holding your hand to help you up. You took the seat next to Sam and Bucky took his place beside you. Looking across John and his partner who you remembered was Lemar from earlier.

Everyone started discussing about the Flag Smashers and what their purpose was. You listened in until you heard something from John that made you livid. He remarked how the serum doesn’t exactly have a great track record and meant no offence as he glanced at Bucky.

“Offense is already taken! How dare you-” You burst out before being motioned to calm down by Sam. Bucky was moved that you stood up for him.

“Woah easy there.” John tried to look innocent before Sam interjected and continued on the topic of the Flag Smashers. You learnt that John and Lemar managed to track you three by hacking into Redwing. They were acting on behalf of the government to keep things stable while resources were being managed, claiming there were violent revolutionaries happening post-Blip.

John went on to propose that you, Sam and Bucky should team up with them but Bucky flat out refused in a second. Lemar then went on to quip that all of you weren’t really handling it well until they stepped in.

“Y/N.” You scrunched your face in response when John called you like a familiar friend.

“I have only seen you from your profile but I must say I am glad to finally meet you. You look even prettier in person.”

If looks could kill, John would be dead a hundred times over under Bucky’s death stare.

You wanted to blanch at John’s word but controlled your expression. You tried to return a polite smile as he continued on.

“Why didn’t you accept our offer to be recruited to our team?” You gave a bewildered look before realization dawned upon you. The government official from that time wanted you to join Walker?

“What is he talking about, Y/N?” Bucky perked up at the new information and you looked over nervously, unsure what to say.

“When we were first brought together, we wanted to recruit Y/N here to be part of the team. We see her as a great asset given her powers and abilities. It would be amazing if we have her on our side.” You looked over to see Bucky literally looking like he was going to combust.

Bucky really hated the word asset, knowing that was how he was addressed back in the days. The word had a connotation of objectification and he was mad that John actually used it to describe you. You were more than that.

“Yeah, you should join us. We could really use your help. You were literally the last one standing with the Flag Smashers back there!” Lemar egged on.

“When was this?” Bucky asked with a tinge of hurt in his voice. He couldn’t believe you didn’t tell him about it at all.

“It was several months ago Buck, I refused their offer straight out.” You answered him before looking straight at John and Lemar.

“I did not want to give them a chance to exploit me for my powers. I know your type. You claim to appreciate what I can offer but I would never be free of my own will.” Your words were sharp and laid with revulsion.

“They only seek me to control me, they are afraid of what happens if I am left unsupervised.” You added with finality. You spared no sugar-coating and everyone kept silent for a moment.

This was the price to be someone like you in this world. Even when you know you won’t do anything out of turn, the government bodies would never trust you.

John pretended to clear his throat before speaking. “Y/N. I can assure you that I will do my very best to make sure that does not happen if you join me. I will speak up for you.”

No, you won’t. You can’t. You wanted to shoot back.

Bucky placed his hand over yours and held onto it as his way to show his care. He then went to ask again who Lemar was and Sam chimed in that he needed to know more. When Lemar gave his alias, that tipped the iceberg for Bucky before he called for the vehicle to stop.

He then immediately stepped down and started stalking off. John tried to call after Bucky and talk sense into him but of course, Bucky didn’t care for it.

He then went on to try to tell you and Sam that he wasn’t trying to be Steve or replace him and that he just wanted to be the best Captain America he could be.

You scoffed out loud at his words as it only served to rile you up. His next sentence took you off the edge.

“It’ll be a whole lot easier if I have Cap’s wingman by my side.” Disgusting. Does he even know what he was saying? You look over to see Sam in disbelief and you felt angry for him.

“It’s always that last line,” Sam said before you and he proceeded to step down from the vehicle.

“Eat shit, John.” You spat at him before you turned your back. You couldn’t go before you showed your loathing for him. Sam clapped your back and shook his head to tell you that Walker wasn’t worth it.

-------------------------//---------------------------

It was tense on the way back, but it was now for an entirely different reason compared to the first time. Sam checked in on you and Bucky to which you reassured him that you were alright.

“Let’s take the shield, Sam,” Bucky spoke up for the first time since the flight back.

Sam countered that it was not something that could be done simply and reminded him of a past similar event. The shield was technically government property and there was no way we could take it back without starting something.

Sam recapped how Sharon, Steve and he became fugitives and how he never wanted to live that life again. You couldn’t say anything to that knowing you managed to get a free pass in Wakanda alongside Bucky.

You all had no information to start with regarding the super soldiers but Bucky claimed otherwise. There was someone that Sam and you should meet.

-------------------------//---------------------------

That's it for chapter 2! I figured it will get too long if I cover the whole of ep 2 so I stopped here! We continue off on the next chapter! 😆

Tag list:

@tanyaherondale @spookycereal-s

[azucanela]

SKIN DEEP DECEPTION 

PAIRING: TSUKISHIMA KEI X READER [SOULMATE AU]

SUMMARY: In a world where the number of lies your soulmate tells each day is written in your wrist, Y/N has found that her soulmate has two moods. No lies, or dozens at a time. 

WARNINGS:​ CURSE WORDS (WH*RE). ANGST. MILD VIOLENCE. 

WORD COUNT: 4K.

A/N: happy anniversary? marriage? engagement? @bbykutos​​ <3 this is my first time writing an au so pls lmk how i did and uhhh idk i feel like this is bad

HAIKYUU!! MASTERLIST

IN A WORLD FILLED WITH LIES only one person knew when you were really telling the truth. That person being your soulmate. Though it’s not always a lover, that tended to be the most common occurrence when it came to soulmates. The whole point of soulmates had been to have someone perfect for you, though this wasn’t always the case of course. 

Growing up, Y/N had always viewed soulmates as a false ideal, a distant fantasy, though the number on her wrist was confirmation enough that soulmates existed— that didn’t mean they were truly meant to be. 

She’d learnt that the hard way. 

At times, kids would find their soulmates in their first year of school; which normally went either really well or really poorly. Others in high school, college, some mundane moment at a coffee shop or a more dramatic one at one of the biggest moments of their lives. Sometimes it was romantic, other times it was chaotic, or just plain dull. Most of the times finding your soulmate meant catching them in the midst of a lie... several times. Sometimes people found love, an enemy, or... they just found their soulmate.

Y/N wasn’t the only person who’d become rather apathetic towards the whole idea, though there was no denying the small part of her— in the back of her mind, the part she’d tried so hard to bury— that hoped, that wished, that dreamed of a soulmate who cared for her. 

And yet, even her own parents were an example of this false ideal. 

Not that it mattered, seeing as she was yet to meet her soulmate. There was no reason to dwell on it, that had become abundantly clear to Y/N, and yet here she was, allowing her mind to wander as she stared— maybe even glared— at her wrist in class. 

“I need to use the restroom.” 

The word’s pull her out of her daze, eyes rising back up to the board where her teacher stands— smile on her face as she replies, “of course! Go on ahead.” Y/N’s eyes trail over to the student in question, the blonde boy seated beside her, Tsukishima Kei. She was familiar with him seeing as they’d gone to the same middle school. He also happened to be the class’ star pupil due to his stellar intellect.

With a frown, Y/N exhales deeply and looks back down only to come face to face with the number on her wrist having increased by one.

1 lie so far today, huh. 

Most days Y/N had found that the lies didn’t start piling up until the afternoon, other times there were slim to none, and assuming they were in high school as well— what were they lying about. It truly left her baffled at what in the world they could be saying. Aside from this curiosity, the thought of her soulmate returned to the back of her mind as a hand tapped her shoulder, drawing her out of her thoughts once more.  

A green haired boy stands beside her— she recognizes him, Yamaguchi Tadashi. They’d been friends in middle school and remained so when they’d entered high school, though they weren’t as close as they used to be, Yamaguchi had tried and failed to keep it that way. 

The bitter memories resurface, though Y/N simply pushes them to the back of her mind alongside all the over thoughts she doesn’t want to address as she turns to Yamaguchi with a smile, “hey Yamaguchi, what’s up?”

He offers her a nervous smile, eyes flickering across the room before returning to her before he replies, “I was wondering if you wanted to be in my group?”

Tilting her head at him, a small laugh escapes Y/N as she asks, “group?”

For a moment Yamaguchi’s brows furrow, though his eyes drift towards her single rolled up sleeve, the number one displayed on it, “oh! We have a group project for the next few weeks.” Comes his response.

“Project...” Y/N mumbles out, eyes scanning the room as she watches people enter clusters of three, talking and writing things down in their journal— even exchanging numbers. “Right.”

She had a feeling that Tsukishima’s sunny disposition hadn’t done them any favors when it came to getting other members to join their group projects. Coupled with Yamaguchi’s need to end all conflict between his friends.

That must be how they ended up here. 

Opening her mouth to speak, Y/N quickly shut it as she searched for the right words, bringing an arm to the back of her neck as she scratched it awkwardly. “I just don’t know if that would be the best idea—”

“If what would be the best idea?” Behind Yamaguchi comes Tsukishima, hands shoved into his pockets as he looks between them.

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Y/N looks away, brows furrowing as memories begin to surface. Seeing as the last time they’d interacted, Tsukishima had elected to use some... crude words. Well, Y/N had expected awkwardness when they inevitably spoke to each other once more, and the fact that he seemed to unfazed left her wanting to wipe the smirk off his face.

Preferably in a violent way.

Yamaguchi seems to answer for her as he replies, “well I was thinking since we need groups of three, Y/N would just join us.” Yamaguchi looks between the pair before saying, “like old times.”

Y/N wants to gag.

Moving to stand, she offers Yamaguchi a tight lipped smile, “I’ll probably join a different group but—”

“There are no other groups.” Tsukishima interrupts, though there’s no emotion in his words, as though he’s simply stating a fact. Because clearly, he doesn’t care. 

Inhaling deeply, Y/N nods slowly, looking between the both of them before saying, “well you both have my number.” The bell rings, and Y/N can’t help but let out a sigh of relief as she continues, “text me about the project whenever.” Before immediately grabbing her bag from beside her desk and swinging it over her shoulder.

Tsukishima is watching as she leaves, a sigh escaping him as he adjusts his glasses before turning to Yamaguchi, “you’ll need to make a group chat.” 

“Why?” He asks, brows furrowing as he pulls at his phone to do so regardless, fingers typing away at the screen.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Tsukishima shrugs, “she has me blocked.”

Yamaguchi pauses his typing, sighing. Though he doesn’t look up at Tsukishima as he replies, “Of course she does— well I would too.” Yamaguchi exhales deeply, “you should apologize to her.” 

It had always been a touchy subject in their friendship, the way that Tsukishima had elected to end— more accurately, ruin — his friendship with Y/N. Though Yamaguchi wasn’t there to hear what he’d said himself, he’d heard it had been pretty bad from others. After all, Tsukishima had received his first, second and third punch to the face that day.

It was deserved. 

“Yeah.” Comes his reply, shoving his hands back into his pockets. 

In an attempt to combat the uncomfortable silence between them, Yamaguchi asks, “so where’d you go?” 

A smirk breaks out on Tsukishima’s face, “not the bathroom that’s for sure.”

THE NEXT TIME TSUKISHIMA KEI TEXTS Y/N, the message actually goes through. For some reason he can’t bring himself to delete the ones that came before, the apologies from a year prior followed by his messages of realization that she had blocked him. 

Maybe it was the fact that his pride had taken a blow or maybe it was the fact that he didn’t want to know if he was forgivable, Tsukishima had never made any attempts to apologize fact to face. 

Actually, that’s a lie, he had. But he had chickened out last minute, the panic flooding his veins as he was faced with a situation almost identical to the one that had gotten him into the mess. Seeing her alongside the very person who had punched him in the face that day— well, the first person who had that is— a broad smile on her face.

And who was he to ruin that. Did he even want to know what she’d say? Would she call him ridiculous, a fool for even thinking an apology could mend anything between him?

Would hearing her voice one more time, even if it was just riddled with insults, be enough for closure? He’d done this to himself Tsukishima was well aware but that didn’t make him any less upset at the fact that he’d lost his best friend. 

He shakes his head, trying to get rid of those memories as he stares at the message, a simple:

hey, it’s tsukishima. 

He was fairly sure that not only had he been blocked he had also had his number deleted, so starting with an introduction seemed right.

we’re meeting at my house tmrw after school. yamaguchi and i have volleyball practice, you can wait for us at the gym or just head over to my house i dont care. 

There are so many implications to the message and they all leave Y/N’s head spinning, or maybe she was reading into it. She wasn’t sure at this point, but it was clear that Tsukishima was well aware that she still had the key to his front door. 

Y/N elected to show up to volleyball practice rather than face his mother alone.

Stepping into the gym, the sound of shows scrapping against the floor, and volleyballs hitting the ground at an almost rapid pace as people moved around the courts just as quickly.

Y/N scrunches up her nose as she’s hit with the smell of sweat, something to be expected in a gym of course, lips pressing together into a straight line as she steps further into the gym and looks to her left. There stands another girl, albeit slightly intimidating but she looked far more approachable than the other people around the gym 

“Excuse me?” 

She turns, brows furrowing slightly at the sight of Y/N before offering her a smile and asking, “hey. How can I help you?”

Smiling back— albeit awkwardly— Y/N replies, “I’m waiting for someone,” Y/N quickly realizes that isn’t much information as she adds, “someone in this club. Actually, two people— that’s beside the point. Is there anywhere I can just sit, until the end?”

Once more her brows furrow, “our practices tend to go on pretty long, especially since some of the boys like extra work and we have a few practice games coming up.” Shaking her head slightly, the girl gestures to the bench beside her, “you can sit here with me, I’m Kiyoko by the way.”

“So who are you waiting for?”

“Oh, uh... Tsukishima Kei and Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

Y/N finds herself coming by the gym more often after that day, although it isn’t because she has to walk back to Tsukishima’s house after with him and Yamaguchi, it’s because she finds herself enjoying Kiyoko’s presence. She’s a quiet girl, but she’s rather witty behind the scenes, and certainly and entertaining and fun person. And so were the other boys in the club.

They’d quickly become intrigued by the presence of another girl and—

“Another female manager? Nice!”

“Another manager? Why?”

“Kiyoko are you leaving us!?”

Okay so maybe Y/N had inadvertently joined the Boy’s Volleyball Club, but she really had nothing better to do with her time, much less with all the time she had between school and when the practice ended, allowing Tsukishima to go home with Yamaguchi and Y/N. But it’s not like it wouldn’t be over soon, right? The groups would only last two weeks and then Y/N would be free of her old— or more accurately, ex-friend.

Wrong, the groups became permanent. For the rest of year the students have to use them, for every single group project. Leaving Y/N to dread the class each time she entered due to the burning anticipation of a possible group project. Though Yamaguchi had made several attempts to approach Y/N since their last project ended just a few weeks prior, going as far as ditching Tsukishima entirely to sit with her at lunch some days.

Y/N entertained him, it’s not like she wanted to be rude or anything— not to Yamaguchi that is, he hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t been the one to randomly explode and call her a variety of... colorful words upon finding her with a friend last year. 

Neither Y/N nor Yamaguchi bring it up of course, how Tsukishima had driven her away with his crude words that she never expected would ever be directed towards her. 

But...

“We’ll be having another group project for the next two weeks!”

The conversation was inevitable. 

Y/N nearly rams her head into her desk as she sighs, eyes drifting upwards towards the ceiling as though that would solve any of her current problems, before looking back to Tsukishima with a rather sarcastic smile that he returns with one of his own. Yamaguchi on the other hand, is waving rather enthusiastically from his seat in the classroom, beaming. 

It’s not like it was a bad group. They got things done, and when grades were returned, they were good. It’s just that Tsukishima was... Tsukishima. And as annoying and rude as he was, Y/N couldn’t help but feel more annoyed with herself because she still couldn’t find it in herself to hate him. 

Backpack slung over her shoulder, Y/N exhales deeply as she looks back at Yamaguchi who remains at his porch, “make sure she gets home safe, Tsukki!”

“That’s really not necessary, Yams.” She assures, giving him a pointed look when Tsukishima turns around with a disinterested shrug. But of course. the boy waves her off, simply shoving her forwards with Tsukki, offering her a thumbs up and a smile. 

Y/N simply turns around and follows Tsukishima with a scowl, quickly moving ahead of him as she tugs her backpack strap tighter onto her shoulder. 

Tsukishima is rolling his eyes as she moves ahead of him, “how am I supposed to stop you from getting kidnapped when you’re a mile ahead of me?” He calls out to her, maintaining his pace. Y/N doesn’t reply, continuing on ahead, “Y/N.” He repeats, “Y/N.” Once more, she ignores him, until she hears his steps pick up behind her, a hand wrapping around her wrist and stopping her movements. 

“Yes Kei?” She exclaims in annoyance, turning back to him. Only for her mouth to gape open as she grimaces, “Tsukishima. I mean.”

He exhales deeply, looking away momentarily before saying, “I’m sorry.”

So, Y/N laughs. “Wow. Tsukishima Kei swallowing his pride to apologize? Impressive.” Tsukishima opens his mouth to reply, only for Y/N to speak first and say, “I hate you.” Before tearing her arm out of his grasp and stepping ahead once more.

Y/N isn’t looking at him as he replies, “no you don’t.”

And Tsukishima would’ve believed had he not looked to his wrist, the number rising with each insult Y/N spewed. Though there was no denying that he deserved it, but that didn’t stop the grimace that came on his face before he asked, “you done?”

WHEN TSUKISHIMA FOUND OUT Y/N WAS HIS SOULMATE, it did not end well. He wasn’t really sure if he had a plan that day, but if he did it went out the window once he saw her with one of her friends from another school. Though Tsukishima had never met the boy in question, it didn’t take long for him to realize that Y/N liked him, whether that was platonic or not it didn’t matter. Because watching her laugh along with him in the convenience store only served as a reminder that there were people better than him.

Tsukishima had never considered himself insecure per se, much less an over thinker or anything of the sort. But the simple fact of the matter was, Y/N didn’t want him, she was stuck with him as his soulmate. 

And though she was blissfully unaware of this fact, why did that need to change? 

Perhaps she could be happier with that boy, with anyone other than him. Tsukishima had known Y/N for years and though he would never admit it, he respected her, he cared for her, long before he’d discovered they were soulmates. And prior to his discovery he’d always found the system idiotic, so why did his mindset have to change?

It was a bitter ideology, and a jealous and foolish reaction that put him in the place he’s in today. Though Tsukishima was fairly sure it only proved his point, that she deserved better, that didn’t make him any more remorseful of their friendship.

He’d nearly told her several times, like the blunt and straightforward person he is, Tsukishima had almost stopped her in the halls of school and simply said— “surprise! We’re soulmates. Sorry about calling you a whore and all, I was just jealous and bitter because I realized there are people out there better for you and somehow you got stuck with me!”

Yeah, that would’ve blown over real well. Tsukishima was fairly sure he would’ve received an addition hit to the face from her and Yamaguchi, again. 

Yamaguchi was not happy when he found out about the convenience store incident. At all. 

Tsukishima couldn’t recount many times when he was scared of Yamaguchi Tadashi, until his fist was flying towards his face. Of course, he laughed it off, wiping the blood from his nose, but that didn’t make it a fun experience by any means. 

Now, Tsukishima was just trying to amend things, slightly. It’s not like Y/N owed him any of her time, and it’s not like she needed to know that they were soulmates.

It would be better off that way for the both of them, or at least, that’s what Tsukishima told himself— much to Yamaguchi’s dismay. The boy had been urging Tsukishima to just tell her the truth, for a while now, to no avail. And when Tsukishima returned to class one day having discovered he would be in a group with her and Yamaguchi, well he couldn’t help but thing Yamaguchi was scheming. 

But looking up to Yamaguchi and Y/N, who are seated at the table of some café Y/N had insisted on coming to, Tsukishima can’t help but think it was worth it.

No, she didn’t need to know. 

And so, against her better judgement, Y/N had allowed things to return to normal. The same weekly hangouts they once had becoming daily because of volleyball practice each day, forcing Yamaguchi, Tsukishima and Y/N together for even longer periods of time. Walks homes becoming progressively longer as they all speak amongst themselves— or more accurately, Y/N and Yamaguchi speak. Then again, Tsukishima had always been more of the quiet kind unless he had something witty to add on.

This revival of friendship meant the return of the late night calls as well, of course. Albeit, most of them filled with a comfortable silence that Y/N finds herself relishing in a she lays in bed, eyes glued to the time shining in the corner of her phone screen.

11:52PM.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N rolls over on her bed, tugging at her sleeve to pull it down and reveal the counter on her wrist. There have been a few lies today, though there hadn’t been any in the past few hours. In recent months the number had been fluctuating more which Y/N found... odd. 

Tsukishima seems to notice her shift in mood, though he doesn’t look up from his work as he asks, “what is it?” When Y/N doesn’t respond, he simply repeats himself, asking, “what’s wrong?

Y/N’s brows furrow as she huffs, bringing her arm back down and pushing herself up on her bed using her elbows before replying, “what do you mean?”

“The dramatic sigh.” Comes his reply, eyes still glued to the page in front of him as the sound of his pen moving against the paper fills his room.

Y/N looks to him on the screen incredulously as she scoffs, “it was not a dramatic sigh.”

A pause on his part as he looks down before replying, “I don’t even think you believe that Y/N.” He responds, rolling his eyes before adjusting his glasses at the bridge of his nose. 

Sometimes Y/N wondered how he’d always been able to do that, read her like a book. Was she truly that predictable? Grimacing, Y/N brushes away the thought, “nothing is wrong?” Her response sounds more like a question, leaving her cringing at her inability to lie.

Tsukishima raises a brow as he dryly responds, “that was convincing.”

Y/N just sighs again, eyes drifting to her wrist once more— the counter now reset to zero as the day starts anew— as she pauses, wondering if the conversation would be worth it. 

“Do you ever think of you soulmate, Tsukishima?”

His pen stops, and if Y/N was looking at the screen rather than her wrist, she would’ve seen the way he straightened in his seat as he replied, “no. I don’t.” He clears his throat, “no point in dwelling on someone I haven’t even met yet.”

Maybe Y/N would’ve replied had the counter not ticked up to 2 as he spoke. 

But it was a coincidence. It had to be a coincidence. 

“So... you haven’t met your soulmate yet?

Another moment of silence before he replies, “no.” With a sigh.

3.

Y/N brings a hand to clasp over her mouth, “you’re kidding me.” A bitter laugh escapes her, “you’re fucking kidding me.” Y/N finds herself inhaling deeply as she attempts to calm herself. “How long have you known?”

Y/N WAS AVOIDING HIM, not that he didn’t deserve it, again. But that didn’t make it any better. Tsukishima found himself frowning as he stared at his eyes pierced into the back of her head, and for the first time he found himself hoping for a group project.

What a change in events. 

Tsukishima was honestly more worried about what Yamaguchi would say once he found out that he and Y/N were fighting again but... that was something to worry about for another time.

“We’ll be having a group project once more today! If you haven’t realized already, this class is oriented around the idea of building you collaborative and social skills.”

Okay, maybe not another time.

Tsukishima can practically hear Y/N’s head fall against her desk, his eyes drifting back to her as the teacher drones on about the requirements of this assignment and how they’ll pick up the rubric once class ends and they can further review it tomorrow. 

Probably because the bell rings almost immediately after. 

Y/N has already shot up from her seat, tugging her back over her shoulder as she beelines for the exit of the class. And for once, Tsukishima finds himself making an effort to keep up with her as he calls out her name, “Y/N, stop.”

This seems to garner Yamaguchi’s attention, who jogs to keep up with the pair as they all exit the classroom, “guys? What’s going on?”

“Everything is fine, Yamaguchi!” Comes Y/N’s response from ahead of them, waving him off. 

Yamaguchi’s brows furrow as he grabs Tsukishima’s wrist only to see that the counter has risen, causing him to look up at Tsukishima when he finally yanks his wrist away. “What did you do?”

Tsukishima looks to him incredulously, “what makes you think I did something?”

Yamaguchi looks to him blankly as he replies, “well Y/N isn’t chasing you through the halls, is she?” He rolls his eyes, jogging to get ahead of the both of them and block their path as he looked to them with furrowed brows, “what is going on guys?”

“Not now, Tadashi, please—”

“Tadashi?”

The group pauses in the empty hallway, most of the other students having left now that the day had ended, and the sound of Tsukishima’s voice is unlike anything Y/N has heard before as she sighs. 

“I wish you had told me, Tsukishima.” Is all she mumbles out, before dragging a hand through her hair and pushing past the both of them, turning the corner of the hall and leaving them alone there.

A/N: gasp :0 yamaguchi? 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Not a Baby: Nat and Chris (And Ronnie)

CW: The first part is pure fluff with a couple underage drinking references/jokes. Second part references the events of Chris getting appendicitis (One, Two, Three, Four) and takes place while he is healing from surgery. Includes surgery references, whumpee rejecting medication, medical trauma references

Sometimes, you just want bittersweet fluff lined with angst.

-

“You gotta help me out,” Tristan sings along with the radio as they wait at a red light, Ronnie furtively checking her phone. “It’s all a blur last ni-eee-eye-ee-ight…”

One message from Paul, just now out of bed after a longer-than-usual workday had fully wiped him out, thanking her for leaving some food in the fridge. She smiles, faintly, at the sight of the little heart emojis he leaves after every single text. 

He’s not much for showing emotion in his face, not like Tristan wears his own feelings on his sleeve, but he knows how to make sure Ronnie feels loved. He always has.

The light turns green, and she taps on the gas, then lets her foot slowly press down. Next to her, Tristan dances in his seat, totally unselfconscious, rocking back and forth. 

“We need a taxi, ‘cause you’re hungover and I’m broke…”

Ronnie starts laughing, one hand over her mouth, the other still on the wheel.

He blinks, turning to look at her. They just clipped his hair short last week, getting him ready for the next competition coming up. She never expected to be a Gymnastics Mom, not once, but here she is, chaperoning her teenage son to the gym on a Saturday afternoon, where he more or less lives these days. “What?”

“I just. It’s something else to listen to your teenage son sing about being hungover, Tris. That’s all. You’re way too young for this song. And probably just for Katy Perry in general, not that anyone should listen to-”

“Mom.” Tristan rolls his eyes, leaning over and pointedly turning the volume up on the radio. “I like Katy Perry. And I, I, I know what hungover is. I’m not, not, not, not-... not-not four years old. I’m fifteen.”

“Fair enough, but I don’t think my fifteen-year-old should know about being hungover, either.” She takes a turn, the radio cheerfully blaring that’s what you get for waking up in Vegas and she wonders why she keeps letting Tris pick the radio station, exactly, when they could be listening to some perfectly fine soft rock right about now. “What do you get up to at Aki’s, huh? Maybe I need to speak to Aimi. Ask if you’re having wild parties as soon as I leave.”

“Oh my god, Mom.” Tristan turns bright red, and she tries not to enjoy how much he’s his father’s son - always but especially when he blushes, the red seeming to make the scattering of pale freckles stand out even more, not less, when he does. “You are, are not going to-... we don’t drink, Mom. We just, just watch shows and… hang out.”

“I know, baby,” Ronnie says, laughter still edging her voice. “I’m teasing you, that’s all.”

He glares out the windshield where he sits next to her, running his fingers up and down the smooth seatbelt, along its edge. Back and forth, enjoying the mix of silk and rough in the texture, she thinks. 

“I’m not a, a, a, a baby,” He mumbles, all teenage resentment and irritation. 

“Oh, honey. That’s the downside of having parents,” Ronnie says, gentling her voice down to affection, taking another turn. She can see the gym now, down at the end of the street. Aimi will probably already be here with Aki, she figures, and maybe they can make a coffee run while the boys practice. “It doesn’t matter how old you get. You could be fifty and I could be sixty-seven and I’d still see you wrapped in that hospital blanket looking up at me with big eyes. Even when we’re both old, you’ll still be my baby.”

He rolls his eyes again, but this time she catches the hint of a smile he’s trying to hide pulling at one side of his mouth. Tristan leans forward and switches the radio station over to Ronnie’s favorite, then falls back into his seat, focusing on the seatbelt again.

Sometimes, like his father, he doesn’t know how to say he loves her, but he always knows how to show it.

-

Two and a half years later

Nat came down for a glass of water, only to find Chris wide awake on the couch at 3 am, top teeth biting down so hard on his bottom lip she was afraid he’d draw blood, making his slow, careful, shuffling way towards the stairs.

She’d managed to convince him to go back to the couch, or really more or less command him, but the trade-off was promising she’d stay downstairs with him for a while.

Now, instead of water she has a mug of hot tea steaming gently on the side table, instead of her warm bed she has Chris’s head resting on a pillow in her lap while she runs fingers slowly through his hair - dark red in the night, lit with a hint of silver by the reflected light coming off the television - and instead of dreams, she has reruns of Frasier.

“You palmed your pain medication earlier, didn’t you?” She asks the question as gently as she can, without judgement.

He doesn’t answer, green eyes locked on the television, where the main character’s younger brother is preparing for a date and managing to set an ironing board on fire in the process. It’s probably one of the best scenes in television history, but Nat can’t even begin to pay attention to it. Worry has her all twisted up, heart beating a little too fast, as she picks up her mug and takes a sip, honey and lemon and yes, a little bit of whiskey in her tea all settling over her tongue. 

“Chris,” She says, softly. “I asked you a question.”

“Mmmhmm,” is all he says, and he doesn’t move. His head is a soft weight against her leg, and his hair runs like silk through her fingers. He’s pale not just from the darkness and the late-night TV, but from the pain he must be in, must be holding back.

Of course, there’s no one who has come through her house who hasn’t been pretty good at hiding pain, after a while. Once you’re drowned in it, once it’s your everyday truth, you learn not so much to actually hide it as simply to go on living with it. 

No one Chris’s age should already be so good at this.

“You have to take those, or you’re going to hurt like this all the time for a while,” Nat says, trying to keep from lecturing him. His freckles stand out more, lit by the cool blue-tinged light of TV. She watches him smile, just a little, at the slapstick comedy going on. “It’ll take longer for your incision to heal if you-”

“Don’t, don’t like pills,” Chris whispers, and she watches one of his hands, palm flat, running up and down the heavy weighted blanket she’s laid over him. It’s soft as rabbit fur, and he starts to hum, nearly a whisper, as he touches it. “Jake’s gone. Out. Didn’t… didn’t want them.”

Nat takes a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. “Chris, you can’t only take pills when Jake is here to give them to you. He can’t always be here, he has things he does outside of this house-”

“I know. But… I didn’t want them. I, I, I don’t mind hurting a little.”

The funny thing is, it’s not bluster. He really doesn’t. Chris would really rather lay here, awake in the middle of the night, in terrible pain than simply put two pills into his mouth and wash them down with water. There’s been too much done to him with drugs, and he’s not the only one she’s had to help recover the idea of medicine as something other than torture.

He’ll get there.

She hopes.

“Okay, well… where did you put them?”

There’s silence, again, but this time he shifts a little, a flash of his hurt and discomfort across his expression. “In, in the couch cushions.”

“Do you have any of your other doses in there?”

“... mmhmm.”

“Chris…” She sighs, putting her hand up to her forehead, rubbing her fingers just above the bridge of her nose as the tension starts to build behind her eyes. Oh, her head’s going to hurt soon. She can’t just be up at night like she used to without paying for it the next day. “How many have you skipped? Huh?”

“... four.”

“Four. Four times-... okay.” She exhales, slowly - he’s tense under her hand, now, and she can feel the worry in him. Knows he’s trying to figure out if he’ll be in trouble, get punished. Disciplined for the ways he’s learned to live with what happened to him.

A different kind of test than what he’s tried on Jake, but it’s still a test.

“Chris. I can’t tell you how much I don’t want to have to sit here and watch you and see you swallow them. I know that it’s hard for you, I do, and I’m so sorry that we have to do this, but I have to take care of you. I want to take care of you. And part of that is making sure you know how to care for yourself. When you’re recovering from serious surgery-”

“The, the, the, the cut’s not even that big,” He mutters, a hint of irritation. 

Nat feels a surge of affection for him that, if she were standing, would nearly knock her off her feet. Chris interrupting her, Chris being pouty and sulky and every inch a seventeen-year-old boy, is a new thing. She doesn’t take it for granted.

It’s just… a little inconvenient right now.

“It doesn’t matter how big it is. It went all the way inside your stomach, and it was a pretty serious surgery. You need these pills or you are going to hurt like hell for so much longer than if you take them and get better. You got it?”

He sighs, but relaxes against her again, and she starts running fingers through his hair again, simple and maternal. “Yeah. I, I do.”

“Okay. Let’s watch the show and see if maybe you’re up for taking your dose and heading back to sleep in a bit, huh?”

“Will you, you, you stay? Even if I-... even if I do, and fall asleep?” He twists a little to look up her and winces as it pulls the still-tender muscles in his abdomen. “Will you stay?”

Nat thinks about how badly her back’s going to hurt in the morning. The headache already trying to sneak its way in around the edges. How she’s going to end up napping half the day away and not getting a damn thing done she had planned.

Then she just smiles down at him, at his wide green eyes in his narrow face and the heavy blanket hiding every other inch of him in softness and warmth. “Yeah, okay. I’ll stay right here with you, ‘til Ant’s up in the morning. How’s that sound?”

“Good. See if you can get comfortable for a bit.”

The two of them fall back into an easy silence, broken only by the low-volume of the TV show, and get through two more episodes of Frasier before Nat’s tea is gone and she and Chris are both half-asleep on the couch, her hand simply resting on his hair, now, light but ever-present. 

Eyes closed, the television’s cool blue still dancing against the inside of her eyelids, she hears Chris mumble, “Night, Nat,” in a sleep-slurred voice. It’s got to be four in the morning, there’s not much night left.

“Night, baby,” Nat murmurs.

“Not a, a baby, Mom,” Chris whispers, but both of them are too close to sleep to notice.

-

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