#hopefully you bringing up the topic will start the wheels a turning again!

[kindahoping4forever]

(it's Vee again lol) So....I got a little request and feel free to say no but I got an idea. So I'm a bi babe, and therefore I feel so comfortable in this fandom but, I was thinking how would Ash be with a bisexual gf? That could be a great fic! Even adding in like "omg babe do we have the same type" jokes lol 🤭 Thank you "Other" Crystal 🤣😉

PS. I found some Ash pics and I need to share so I'll drop them in your dms lol 🤭🫡

SHREECH

Hey Vee! I've long had an Ash x reader x female third threesome on my list of things I'd like to write, I've just yet to find the right plot to pair it with! So while I can't say it'll happen soon, it's definitely a topic of interest 😊

[faioula16]

Eternal companion chap4

Your demon: A contract with limits

Ten minutes had passed and Sébastian didn't waste the chance to prepare your lunch and serve it to the kitchen's table, covered by a tray lid so it would remain warm for you to eat whenever you decide you want to. 

The demon walked over to the backyard door and let it open for your dog to come in. As he went back to clean some dishes he glared in disgust when your dog finally entered the house. His ears perked a bit when he caught the sound of your footsteps walking down the stairs. 

Alas, your attention was now completely focused on your dog who jumped with his front feet on your shoulders and licked your cheek, causing you to laugh and giggle the whole time. 

Sébastian swore that if it wasn't for your sake and only, this filthy creature would be thrown out to the streets. 

"Down Dingo, down now" You ordered the Husky with a steady tone and so he obeyed, making his way into the living room where his bed was. 

You turned to face your demon but your cheek made sudden contact against a bare chest which was Sébastian's of course. Then his arms snaked around your waist bringing you closer. You looked up to him and smiled sweetly. "Sébastian...."

Half-lidden reddish-orange eyes stared down at you lovingly. He cupped both sides of your face and began to rub your cheeks playfully.

"Hey...stop that!" You grabbed his larger hands to yours and looked up at him with a serious expression. "I don't want you to go"

He gave you a sad smile while stroking your hair. "Hopefully I won't be that long my love" His head leaned down to rub his nose against yours gently.

"But you always return at night time. What's that surprise you told me about? Please tell me" You spoke softly, due to the warm feeling of his lips against your forehead.

"I'll be back very soon. Don't forget to eat your lunch, yes kitten?" He purred to your ear and before you knew it he pulled you in for a rough-passionate kiss. And just like that, he was gone. Leaving you a flustered mess.

Sebastian sneaked into the mansion and started on his butler duties like every day. He went to the servants and let them know they'd be off their duties for today and they could take the time to rest. With breakfast and tea already made he entered his master's bedroom, he let the wheeled table aside for a moment and walked straight to the double window to yank open the curtains and let the sunlight fill the room.

Ciel's eyes cracked open and let a yaw out as his body slowly rise and stretched out his arms, now sitting on the bed with his back against the pillows.

"Good morning young master, did you sleep well last night?" Sebastian asked while filling his master's fine porcelain cup with freshly made tea, serving it to him gracefully. 

The boy's slender fingers curled around the cup's handle as he brought it close to his face and took a sip from the hot delicious liquid. "Don't act as if you care, it disgusts me. And your efforts to avoid the main topic of what we have to discuss are utterly pathetic. You sneaked away from the mansion...again" Young lord murmured the word 'again' under his teeth in an aggressive tone. "I've been told you ordered the rest of the servants to guard me and the estate from intruders when this was YOUR task in the first place. It's the 13th time you did so for this month and to be honest it started to get on my nerves. Tell me Sebastian do you plan to go against our contract?"

The butler's surprised expression slowly faded away, his eyes were closed and a devilish smirk took its place across his youthful face. "Not at all my lord, however, we have to make a serious conversion together about some changes we might have to make for our contract to remain and for the success of both yours and my goals" 

Ciel's single eye never left its gaze from Sebastian's reddish-orange ones. "What the hell do you-!"

"Now now sir, there is no need to raise your voice like that, I am more than certain we'll come to a proper agreement but I am afraid your today's lessons cannot wait. We can talk during your lunchtime if that would be alright with you of course"  The butler remained silent for a moment and waited patiently for his master to act.

Finally, Ciel looked away and let out a deep sigh. "Fine" He got off the bed and stood up straight while Sebastian was undressing and changed him into a fine new outfit. 

Some hours passed and now it was time for Ciel's lunch. The young lord was at his studies, reading and sighting up a bunch of papers until the familiar knock from the other side of the door took his attention. "Enter" He spoke coldly and let the papers down against the wooden surface of his office.

Sebastian walked into his master's studies and closed the door behind him. With slow steps, he approached Ciel's office, now standing right before him, and left the silver tray with the food in front of his master's view. "My lord" His tone was smooth and calm as he made a small bow with his hand placed over his heart. 

The boy held the fork between his fingers before he took a bite of rose beef and peals. "Speak and you better explain everything"

"As you wish sir, I've already told you about Miss Y\N and the relationship we developed during the 8 previous months"

"Don't tell me things I am already well aware of" Ciel commented back but stopped abruptly as his mind came up with a new possible situation, his hands hit hard to the office, and stood up from his seat. "What in the devil do want to say?!' He shouted out angrily.

Sebastian didn't lose the chance to get off his tie and unbutton his white shirt, his gloved hands grabbed both the shirt's sides exposing most of his chest where your shared silver seal would remain for eternity.  With closed eyes and a genuinely happy smile, he chuckled in amusement. His master's pure shocked face was more than entertaining to say the very least.

A shadow appeared on the boy's gaze as he lowered his head a bit. "BASTARD!" In a flash, the plate with his lunch was thrown across the demon's face. 

His face and hair were now all dirty and a complete mess, his hands pulled over his chest just in time to cover your shared seal from getting dirty. The demon let out a deep sigh. "Alas, I knew such a reaction couldn't be avoided from you master. However, you must calm yourself this doesn't change our contract. I will help you get your revenge and I will take your soul in exchange. My Y\N's case is different in all matters. You see, it turns out she was meant to be my mate and eternal companion. With this seal, I became responsible for her precious soul, so when the time came for her to pass away the reapers wouldn't have the right to take her soul to paradise or hell either. I will put her soul into new bodies as the centuries pass so, she will always remain alive and we'll be together forever. That was one of my promises to her. All I want to ask are some favors from you for both of the contracts between you, me, and her to work out in harmony" He explained calmly with his hands now behind his back.

Ciel was taking deep breaths in a desperate try to calm himself down. "What favors? And just to be clear, does she know about our contract?"

"Yes she does, I told her all about it. I couldn't hide the truth from my one and only mate after all. But fear not she's not going to give out our secrets, she's loyal enough as much as I am to her. About the favors, I wanted to ask...I would be more than grateful if you'd be so kind as to hire her as an employee here at the mansion. She's a very capable gardener and will be a great help to me compared to the mess those three are causing me all the time. I will be able to keep an eye on her and make sure she's safe. The second favor is that from now on I'd like to have 2 free hours during the day and a new bedroom I can share with her. That will be all my lord, I am sure this won't be any trouble compared to your generosity and kind nature"

"And what if I refuse all that nonsense you requested? Do not forget you acted behind my back and got against our contract no matter if you want to admit it or not"

Sebastian smiled mostly to himself and glanced back at his master with a confident gaze. "Then you have my wish for a happy future. Time was never my enemy and no matter how much time it will take me, I will find another tasteful meal to satisfy my stomach. You thought you could do whatever you desired with me, that I was your pawn, your tool to fight any block on your way and that's true but not without any limits. As a demon, I will never abandon my mate and I will stay by her side at all costs. The final decision is completely for you to take if you will agree or refuse my requests....so, what will you do, master?" The devil gave out a nasty smile, allowing his sharp teeth and fangs to be barely visible and his eyes to turn that pink-fuchsia of his.

You were eating peacefully your lunch, you spared a bit to Dingo as well when you heard the knocking on the front door. Sebastian who had already unlocked and made his way inside with the extra pair of keys you had given him walked towards you and lifted you from your seat to his arms. "My surprise to you awaits, shall we go now kitten?" He questioned with his forehead against yours.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Dating and Goodreads

Back for Day 8-Blind date (how the hell do u guys come up with good title fics i struggle so bad lol). I wasn’t really going anywhere with this one, but when i read all of the others and saw how fun the fics were, i decided to finish this one.

also for Summertime and Fresh Strawberries, I deliberately left it blank but I can’t hold onto the secret bc two people were curious as to what happened, so i’ll let the rest of you know that aelin and rowan decided to keep summer and be a cute little family, bc im a sucker for happy endings lol (unless its angst, it’s safe to assume that all my rowaelin fics have happy endings bc they’ve all ready been thru so much and even in alt fics i need them to be happy lmao)

anyway, on to the next one. hope you enjoy!

1.8k words

cw: none

Aelin was a confident woman, something that she was proud of. But that didn't mean that there weren't times she didn't feel self-conscious or awkward and full of doubt.

Because right now, all those negative feelings were swimming inside of her.

And those feelings were just magnified today, especially since she had gotten fired only a few hours beforehand. It was utterly unexpected, she had never received any prior warnings, and while she was a fighter, Aelin didn't feel like stepping into the ring for this one. Not when her boss was a demon from hell that made life unbearable and she had to physically push herself into entering the work building.

Aelin told herself that it was for the best. She was miserable there and hated working in an office typing up the worlds most boring reports and working in a space that was entirely too drab.

But she wasn't looking forward to job hunting. Aelin was aware that she could ask her friends for favours, but if Aelin did something wrong, she didn't want it reflected back onto whoever helped her.

And she was still a little peeved over the damned argument she had online again with that haughty prick on Goodreads. Aelin wasn't sure why those arguments kept going, but each time she would post a review, White Tailed Hawk would respond, telling her that she read the book wrong and this and that and blah blah blah.

Aelin repaid the favour each time, telling him how he was wrong and he had no reading comprehension skills. And on and on it went until Aelin or whoever the fuck that guy was went back to their own lives.

Depressingly, it was the most fun she had some days.

Shaking her head, Aelin forced herself to think of the now and not of her shitty day. Still she sighed, not quite believing that she had agreed to this blind date. Couldn't believe that she had let Aedion convince her it was a good idea.

Aelin had said no at first, after Aedion had voiced his offer, and her cousin left it at that. But days went past, and he would bring up the topic of Rowan, about the things he had said that day, how his dry sense of humour took some time to get used to but once you figured it out, he was actually pretty funny, how he had finished a project perfectly and this and that.

But it got to her, annoyingly. So the other day when he was helping her out with some housework that was a two person job, Aelin told him to set up this date. Aedion cheered as if it was the best thing he had ever heard, telling her how she and Rowan were the perfect match for each other.

Aelin rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything of the assessment.

She had only agreed because it was getting frustrating being asked at every family event if she was dating someone, when she was going to give her parents grandchildren (that question pissed her off the most, as if Aelin was nothing but a birthing machine and that was all Aelin could contribute to society), and who was going to look after her when she was old if she didn't have children (because apparently carers didn't exist).

Aelin was also lonely—she could entertain herself just fine, but she did like the idea of coming home and talking to someone that could respond. She loved Fleetfoot and her enthusiasm when Aelin came home, but human companionship would be nice.

But Aelin didn't have high-hopes for this date because the universe liked to kick Aelin's ass from time to time, she suspected that they were going to hate each other.

Taking a deep breath, Aelin got out of her car, smoothed down her romper and went inside the restaurant, head held high.

X X X X X X

Rowan couldn't believe that he was about to go on a blind date. That Aedion had convinced him to go out with his younger cousin. He hadn't dated anyone since Lyria and he knew that his dating skills were going to be rusty as hell. He had been with Lyria since they were nineteen, married at 23 and divorced at 31; he had been single for the last two years.

It had been...fine, a little strange, after being with someone for so long to find himself a bachelor. Rowan never thought that he would apart from Lyria, but their relationship had just faded. Long before the divorce, it had been more like a housemate relationship than a marriage. He wasn't surprised when his ex-wife had come home after work with divorce papers. He had only stared at the paperwork for an hour before he signed the forms. Truthfully, Rowan was just glad that he was still on good terms with Lyria, that they could still talk to one another from time to time.

Rowan had almost called her earlier today, to ask how the hell dates went, but felt that it would have been crossing some invisible line, so he didn't call and instead had Googled the questions instead.

They didn't really help.

Rowan drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, telling himself that if things went wrong, then it wasn't the end of the world. That if he had to be a bachelor for the rest of his life, then that was fine. He had plenty of ways of keeping himself busy—he had a good career, a nice house, plenty of books to read and to argue online about them with.

He had one earlier today, actually, with Queen of Wildfire about a new release that Rowan had eagerly read within days of its release. And once again, he ended up with an argument with the woman about the messages and themes within the book.

It was stupid, he knew, to be at his age and to be fighting online with a stranger, but something about this woman just had his fingers flying over the keyboard.

Some days he looked forward to it, as embarrassing as that was to admit. He didn't really want to look into himself to figure out what it all meant.

Eyes drifting to the dashboard, Rowan realised that his date was about to start. Popping a mint into his mouth and smoothing out his clothes, Rowan took a deep breath and left the car and went to his first date in twelve years.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be too bad.

X X X X X X

The date had started out a little awkward, but that wasn't a surprise to Aelin, because what blind date started smoothly?

It picked up after Rowan admitted that he was divorced and that he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do. Aelin appreciated that stark honesty and admitted that she too had no idea what to do.

Since then, the conversation went well, the food was good and Aelin had even swiped a few bites of his dinner because it just looked so much better than hers. Rowan had playfully grumbled underneath his breath, but smiled as he said it.

It was going really well. Maybe the universe had decided to give her a break for the rest of this evening. There was a part of her that maybe wondered if they would have sex, because the man did look fucking fantastic, but at the same time, she didn't want to rush anything in case this actually turned into something more.

“What's the dumbest thing that you've done recently or in the past?” Aelin asked. There was no such thing as small talk between them—Aelin had all ready asked if he believed in aliens and was glad when he said yes, because “it's ridiculous to think that we're alone in this wide universe of ours. It makes sense that there'd be other lifeforms out there.” Which was pretty damned close to Aelin's reasoning as well, so asking him about stupid moments felt like nothing in comparison.

Rowan smirked at the question and took a moment to think before answering. “I engage in online arguments.”

“Really? About what, exactly?”

“It's stupid. But my all my arguments occur on Goodreads of all places. Not Facebook, or YouTube, or Twitter, but Goodreads. It's never anything insulting but just arguments about how wrong some people's in depth reviews are.”

“Fair enough,” Aelin said, “I've been known to do the same thing as you. There's this one user on there, White Tailed Hawk—a stupid name if you ask me—and he just never...” Aelin stopped when she noticed that he stopped eating and was just looking at her weirdly. “Rowan? Are you okay?”

“Do you, by any chance, go under the name of Queen of Wildfire?”

Aelin blinked, and then blinked again, and once the pieces fell into place, she knew right then and there that the universe really hated her. She let out a harsh laugh, the sound echoing throughout the space. Aelin wasn't really sure what to say, because it was true what he said; it had never been insulting, but ending up on a date with the man she had regularly arguments with was just...she had no words, other then, “It really is a stupid name.” She took a sip of her wine, needing to do something other than wanting to bang her head against the table.

“I couldn't think of anything else to write.” And it wasn't also his favourite animal, he had told her that earlier.

They lapsed back into the awkward silence of earlier, both picking at their food.

But Aelin didn't want this night to go to waste. “It'd be stupid to let something as small as this get in the way of whatever this could be,” Aelin said, deciding to be blunt.

Rowan nodded. “It would be. Although I have to be honest, you really have no idea what you're talking about when it comes to Call of the Wild Winds.”

Aelin just about stormed off when she noticed his playful smile, his eyes sparkling bright. Laughing, Aelin threw a bread-roll at his handsome face, and once he caught it and split it in half for them to share, they went back to their earlier conversation.

And when Rowan walked her to her apartment door and kissed her on the cheek goodnight with a promise to text her later, Aelin couldn't help herself by telling him that all his opinions sucked and that he had no idea what he was talking about—all with a big smile on her face as Rowan sputtered as she closed the door on his face.

They spent the rest of the night texting, and all of Aelin's earlier woes faded away. And she looked forward to tomorrow, despite the horror of job hunting. Maybe the universe will finally let things turn around for the better for her.

Aelin went to sleep with a smile on her face, all because of White Tailed Hawk.

And on the other side of the city, Rowan also fell asleep with a smile on his face.

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 9: Closer

...in which Ezi has her first kiss.

Word count: 5.4k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: Please tell me what you think about the chapter! Reblog if you could :)

.

.

.

“Do you know why there’s a true love’s kiss and not a true love’s hug?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? I was asking you.”

Harry sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He had to keep his eyes on the road, but Ezi would keep distracting him with her shifting in her seat every two seconds and rambling on about silly topics he had no interest in. However, he’d promised to not be a dick whenever she talked to him, so he wouldn’t.

“Can’t you see that I’m driving?”

“So?” Ezi snorted. “Just answer the question.”

Harry sighed again. “I guess that’s because a kiss is more special than a hug...romantically.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Why not not? You’re just exchanging saliva.”

“It’s special if you’re exchanging saliva with someone you care about.”

Ezi still wasn’t satisfied with that explanation. “Okay, but what if the person won’t let you kiss them? How will you know if it’s true love?”

“If they don’t want to kiss you, it means they’re not interested, and therefore, it’s not true love,” Harry said. He couldn’t believe he was actually giving this some thought, but oh well, it was a long drive to the manor anyway. “For me at least,” he added, “true love must come from both sides.” Then he stole a glance at her and did a double-take. “Are you taking notes on your phone?”

Ezi flinched and put her phone into her bag right when she made eye contact with him. “No.”

“Liar. You were.”

“I’m learning to be human.”

“Just say you wanna kiss me.” Harry smirked. “We’re the only people here. This is a safe space.”

“It’s never a safe space when you’re in it,” Ezi said.

Harry’s eyebrows went high. “Excuse me? Yesterday you almost attacked a child for cutting the line in the supermarket.”

Ezi gave a firm nod without showing any remorse. “And the child would have deserved it. You, on the other hand, are deadly with your words.”

“How?!” cried Harry. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since we started fake dating.”

Ezi rolled her eyes and checked her watch. “Yeah, your new record of being nice to me is two hours. Congrats.”

Harry exhaled, his shoulders slumped. “Okay, I think we should go over what to do when we see my mum, because if we act like this in front of her--”

“Why are we seeing your mother again?”

“Didn’t Jeff tell you?”

Ezi shook her head. She seemed quite confused, so Harry guessed Jeff had forgotten. To be honest, Harry found it funny and a little concerning that she had no idea why she was in the car after having been in the car for two hours. Someone could just kidnap her one day, and she wouldn’t even realise until they told her it was a kidnap. Or, maybe she just trusted him not to drive her to a government lab and donate her organs to science.

“Well, Jeff wants some new PR content of you hanging out with my family,” he told her.

“Why?” she asked, face scrunched up.

He lifted his shoulders. “To humanise you.”

“Good luck with that,” Ezi scoffed, rested her elbow on the window on her side and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “It takes a lot to humanise me.”

“Well, not literally. Just in the public eye, because a lot of people suspect that this is a PR relationship. We’ve only been seen together as friends or co-workers.”

“That’s not true. We’re not even friends.”

“Exactly!” Harry exclaimed. “So if we can convince my mother that we’re dating, we can convince the whole world. Trust me.”

Harry didn’t even exaggerate it; his mother could detect a lie from miles away. He could count the number of times he’d got away with a lie to her on one hand. However, he had never lied to her about being in a relationship. So hopefully, she’d be too happy with the thought of him not being a player like his dad to tell the whole thing was fake.

And so for the rest of the drive, he and Ezi tried acting out scenarios for when they met his mother again. They broke out laughing most of the time because Harry would say something too cheesy or Ezi would use some lines she’d learned from those Netflix originals that Harry had rated one star. Now that they were standing on the steps of the manor, they had to keep it together. Because no one would shout ‘cut!’ if they messed up their lines. This was almost like going in for a blind audition, and Harry knew his mother would be the toughest judge to impress.

“Harold!”

“Niall?” Harry’s eyes went wide when his best friend shoved the butler aside and embraced Harry at the door. Mikasa, Niall’s girlfriend, was standing right behind him, wearing a dark green satin dress that fell loosely to her knees. She gave Harry a lopsided smile, her black curls bouncing on her shoulders as she approached.

Harry hadn’t talked to her for weeks, but he assumed she already knew about Ezi. Hopefully just as much as his mother did. Unless Niall had broken the bro code and told Mikasa everything.

“Mimi, long time no see!” Harry said as he went in for a hug.

Mikasa eyed him up and down with her big smokey eyes. He always imagined those eyes having a special power that enabled her to stare right into his soul and read him like an unsealed letter. She was a psychiatrist and always making her friends feel like they were having a regular session in her office.

“So this is your girlfriend?” Mikasa asked, smiling at Ezi.

Harry’s gaze jumped to Niall, who subtly locked his lips with an invisible key and tossed it over his shoulder. Niall knew about the PR relationship, but Harry could always trust Niall not to tell anyone, even Mikasa. Especially Mikasa.

“Darling, you made it!” exclaimed Harry’s mother as she descended the stairs. Harry was just going in for a hug when he saw who were following behind her. And he froze.

Dawson and evil Aunt Beatrice. Dawson was wearing a simple black suit, completely made invisible by his mother in the tackiest neon orange sundress Harry had ever seen. He could hear his stylish crying just from seeing this outfit.

“What are they doing here, Mum?” Harry quietly asked his mother as they hugged.

His mother kissed his cheek and whispered back, “Since you invited Niall and Mikasa, I thought I should invite Dawson and his mother.”

“How is that the same thing?”

“Harry!” Aunt Beatrice said in her glass-breaking voice as she pulled him in for a suffocating bear hug. “Ah, you grew up so fast! I hardly recognise you!”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks, Aunt Beatrice.”

“I know, right? Kids these days.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Harry,” Harry’s mother reminded him, so Harry took a deep breath and went to stand beside Ezi. She looked at him like a deer in front of headlights. This couldn’t be good. His family must be overwhelming for her.

“Hey, Ezili!” Dawson waved at her with a smile, and suddenly, her face brightened, and she enthusiastically waved back. Traitorous little fish, Harry thought as he watched the two greet one another.

“Congratulations, you two,” Dawson said.

Ezi opened her mouth to reply when Harry threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her back to his side. He gave Dawson the best grin he could fake. “Thanks,” was all he said.

“Picture, everyone!” Niall interrupted the awkward interaction and pulled out his phone.

Everyone gathered together, and Niall winked at Harry. “Now, Mother Styles, could you stand closer to Ezili? Closer! Thanks. There we go. Looks like Ezili’s a part of the family.”

Once the picture was taken, he nudged Harry with his shoulder. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Harry patted him on the back. “Send it to Jeff for me.”

“Boys, are you coming?” asked Mikasa, who was walking ahead, holding Ezi’s hand.

“Coming, lovebug!” Niall shouted at her and told Harry. “See? She likes Ezili.”

.

.

.

“So what do you do for a living?” was the first question Harry’s mother asked Ezili when they sat down at the lunch table. They were eating in a glass house in the flower garden by the lake. There were people dressed in uniforms serving them tea and appetizers, and Ezili felt like she was Alice having tea with the Queen of Hearts and her courtiers in Wonderland.

“I work at a bookstore,” she said when one of the maids filled her cup with Jasmine tea.

She didn’t understand Harry’s mother’s appalled reaction and why Harry had to add, “Ezi owns a bookstore.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Harry’s mother said, sounding strangely relieved.

Irritated, Ezili leaned in and whispered to Harry, “Why did you lie?”

But he didn’t answer and only shushed her before smiling at his mother again.

“Can’t believe I get to live to see Harry bring home a young lady!” said Aunt Beatrice. Dawson opened his mouth to interject, but she didn’t give him a chance, “I always thought you were gay!”

At that, Niall choked on his tea, and Mikasa had to rub his back as he coughed violently into his fist. Ezili knew what gay meant, but why was it a bad thing?

“What if I were?” Harry asked his aunt. “I don’t see the problem with me being gay, which I’m not.”

“These biscuits are so nice, Aunt Annalise,” Dawson told Harry’s mother, probably trying to save the conversation from turning into a fight. But it seemed like Dawson’s mother was out for blood this morning.

“Harry,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and Ezili saw Mikasa and Niall sink into their chairs. “You’re a celebrity and the heir to this manor and your father's business. It’s so...unexpected of you to be dating some girl who works in a bookstore.”

Ezili wasn’t dumb. She might not understand a lot of things humans said, but she knew sarcasm like her mother tongue. It was her time to say something.

“What’s wrong with working in a bookstore?” she asked, making direct eye contact with Aunt Beatrice, who was shocked by the question. Everyone at the table seemed to be holding their breath.

“How much could you possibly do and make by owning a bookstore these days?” Aunt Beatrice laughed.

Ezili smirked and shook her head. “You could do and make a lot if you knew how to read.”

Harry kicked Ezili’s foot under the table, but she didn’t pay him a single glance. She believed she’d said nothing wrong at all. It was only the truth. Because why look down on people who worked at a bookstore unless you hated books because you couldn’t read?

Seeing his mother’s face turning red, Dawson burst out laughing. “Oh my God, she’s so funny!” Mikasa and Niall started laughing, too, and Harry’s mother awkwardly joined in.

“That’s what they call dark humour, Aunt Beatrice,” Niall told the angry giant lady. “Ezi’s a true Gen Z. She’s all jokes.”

Aunt Beatrice said nothing else. She shot a glare at a smiling Ezili and lifted her cup to take a sip.

“Oh, there’s my new cook!” said Harry’s mother as she waved at the door. “This is Dolores' first day at work. Come say hello, Dolores dear.”

“Good morning. I hope everyone’s having a wonderful time.”

Ezili’s entire body went stiff. Her eyes almost popped out of her head and dropped onto the plate in front of her. She knew that voice. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage as she held her breath. She felt the person’s presence beside her heavy like a weight ready to crush her bones into dust. Out of the corner of her eyes, she looked up.

Her sister Koa was grinning down at her.

“Ezili, are you okay?” Dawson asked, snapping Ezili out of her numbness.

Koa’s devilish grin remained as she circled the table after wishing everyone a pleasant meal, then disappeared out of the entrance.

Why was she here? Why did she have legs? How had she found Ezili?

“Okay, let's get straight to the point,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and everyone groaned at once. “How much did he pay you?”

“Mum!” cried Dawson.

“Excuse me?” Harry arched an eyebrow.

“It’s PR, isn’t it?” Aunt Beatrice said to him. Ezili was having a hard time paying attention to the argument while her heart was still pounding in her head. Her sister was here, either for her, or after her.

“You can’t do that to your mother, Harry,” Dawson’s mother went on. “She might be easily fooled but I’m not.”

“We should’ve gone for mini-golf,” Mikasa muttered to Niall, who exhaled into his hand.

Harry turned to his mother. “You’re just gonna let her disrespect my girlfriend like that?”

His mother opened her mouth to speak, but his aunt was faster. “If she’s your girlfriend then kiss her.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Harry scoffed and threw his hands in the air.

Ezili immediately stood up. All eyes fell on her.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice trembling. “I must go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll take you--”

“No, Harry, you stay.”

Harry slowly sat back down as Ezili pushed her chair out and headed straight for the door. Thankfully, he didn’t follow her.

She crossed the garden and asked one of the employees where the kitchen was. As it turned out, they had a separate kitchen for when they served food in the glasshouse. Ezili couldn’t see the point of having more than one kitchen, but this was no time to question it.

When she found Koa, no one else was there but them. It seemed as if Koa had known Ezili would follow her here, so she’d asked everyone else to leave.

Ezili stood at the door while her sister stood by the counter with her back turned to Ezili. The first thing Ezili noticed was the knives within Koa’s reach. Ezili must be wise when confronting her sister.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Koa in Séren.

Koa slowly turned and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I’m a cook. Can't you see?”

“How did you find me?”

The corner of Koa’s lips curled as she unbuttoned the collar of her white shirt and revealed a gold necklace. Ezili sucked in a breath when she saw the shiny trident-shaped medallion on her sister’s chest.

“Is that--”

“Mother’s trident,” Koa sneered. “Yes, it is.” Then she buttoned up her shirt to cover it. “Now we can see who mother trusts more.”

“Why--”

“Aunt Nerissa came for a visit last week,” Koa said. Ezili knew that name could never be associated with anything good. “Mother doesn’t trust her, so she asked me to go on land to find you, but also to keep the trident away from Nerissa’s clutches.”

Ezili swallowed hard, her fists tightly glued to her sides. “What happened to the cook?”

Koa clicked her tongue. “She’s swimming with fishes now. Like the ones swimming in her pot just then.”

“You drowned her?!”

“In the lake.”

Ezili gripped her head and advanced towards Koa. “How many humans have you killed?”

Koa chuckled and took a few steps forward until she was dangerously close enough to hurt Ezili. She stood with her back straight and arms folded, her silver eyes flickering in the sunlight. “The important question is…” She stared Ezili down. “How many have you killed?” Ezili bit her lip when Koa poked her chest with her long nail. “Or are you too busy dating now? People are talking about it everywhere.” Ezili said nothing, so Koa went on, “It’s a fake relationship, isn’t it?” She leaned in, taunting. “Come on, Sister. Admit that you’ve failed. That you can’t make the human fall in love with you. Why so quiet? Is it because if you admit it, you’re an embarrassment and you lose the trident to me, and if you deny it, then it means you’re becoming way too human to kill him.”

At that, Ezili shoved Koa away and stabbed a finger at her. “Leave me alone. Mother gave me a year for this mission.”

“We won’t have that much time, stupid,” Koa snorted. “Narissa is onto something. The queendom is already in danger as we’re speaking. And you’re here having...brunch?” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Pathetic.”

“Ezi?”

Both of them whipped their heads around and saw Harry, who stiffened in the doorway.

“Ezi?” Koa cackled, hugging her stomach. “Is that your human name? Are you his pet now?”

Though confused, Harry stepped into the kitchen anyway. “Ezi, you’re alright?”

“Harry, watch out!” Ezili shouted, but Koa was already on top of Harry on the floor. She sank her fangs into Harry’s arm with the rolled-up sleeve. Harry yelped in pain as Ezili dragged her sister off of him and slammed Koa’s head against the table. Hissing, Koa grabbed a knife on the counter and aimed it at Ezili, but Ezili was fast enough to kick it out of her sister’s grip and sent one more kick into Koa’s stomach. Koa was stronger than Ezili had thought as she plunged at Ezili again.

“Harry, run!”

But Harry didn’t run. He was back on his feet, grabbed a vase and smashed it onto Koa’s back. “Do not hurt my fake girlfriend!”

Koa rolled off of Ezili. The last thing Ezili could see was her sister’s bloodied face as she stumbled towards the door and ran off into the light.

Ezili lay there until her vision cleared again, and Harry helped her back to her feet.

“What the fuck?!” he yelled. “Who the fuck was she?!”

“My sister,” Ezili said, still holding her aching head.

“The one who tried to drown me? Why is she here?”

“To kill me, I think.”

“Why?”

“Harry--”

But Harry wasn’t listening. He was pacing back and forth like a mad man. “This isn’t good, Ezi. This is bad! Your crazy sister is gonna expose us!”

“Expose us?” Ezili grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. “She almost killed you.”

It seemed as if Harry had forgotten that his arm was bleeding until Ezili had brought it up. He suddenly winced and fell into a chair.

Ezili scanned her eyes around the messy kitchen, panting as she tried to make sure that Koa had escaped. Then, she got down on her knees beside Harry and reached for his wounded arm.

He stared down at her in confusion, then his expression turned horrified when she leaned in.

“What the fuck?!” he hissed and yanked his arm away.

She glared up at him in annoyance. “Let me help!”

“Hell no! You’re not gonna lick my blood.”

“You need to clean the wound!”

“With water! Not by sucking it!”

Ezili huffed and aggressively got up while silently cursing Harry in Séren.

“There’s a--” His voice cut off when she tore off a piece of her dress “--towel over there,” he trailed off. She ignored him and went to the sink to soak the piece of fabric in water. He shook his head and blew up his cheeks. “Nevermind. You do you.”

Still glaring at him when she returned, Ezili got back down on her knees and started cleaning Harry’s arm. The place her sister had sunk her fangs into had turned dark red. It would definitely leave a huge bruise tomorrow.

“Lucky for you Koa was distracted and didn’t aim to bite your whole arm off,” Ezili whispered and glanced up, meeting Harry’s gaze. “You sure you don’t want me to lick your wound?”

“Well, now that you’re already in this position, you could just lick something else,” he chuckled.

Ezili’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

To her confusion, Harry covered his face and shook with laughter. “Sorry, that was a dumb joke. I just couldn’t help it.”

“I didn’t get it.”

“Yeah, that’s how a joke loses its funny,” he sighed then snapped his fingers. “Ooh, maybe I should just pretend that I don’t understand whenever someone tells me a joke, so that they gradually lose their funny.”

“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” Ezili remarked.

“What do you mean?” Harry pouted. “I don’t get it, babe.”

Ezili rolled her eyes at his childishness, still, she couldn’t help but smile a little.

Once she had wrapped the piece of her dress securely around his arm, Harry pulled down the sleeve to cover it as he got to his feet. “That should do. Let’s hope my mother won’t suspect that we just got attacked in her kitchen by her cook, who was your evil siren sister in disguise. Damn, that sounds crazy even for me.”

Ezili stood with her arms crossed. “Do you think your mother can tell we’re not really dating?”

“Nah, my mother totally believes it.” Harry shrugged. “Honestly, I think we’re doing a great job pretending we’re in love when we can’t even have a conversation without insulting each other.”

“I don’t get paid enough to call you babe so many times.”

“Neither do I. This PR relationship is harder than I tho--”

Harry’s sentence got cut off by a sound at the door. When they both turned to it, Dawson was standing there, his eyes wide with shock.

Ezili was hoping that was the reaction to the messy kitchen and not to what she and Harry had said. However, luck wasn’t smiling at her tonight. Dawson’s appalled gaze jumped from Harry to Ezili. “What do you mean by ‘PR relationship’?”

.

.

.

“I can explain,” Ezi said, reaching for Dawson, but he backed away while staring at both her and Harry in disbelief. Harry believed Dawson wasn’t shocked that Harry could pull something like this, because Harry hadn’t been exactly the good kid growing up. What Dawson hadn’t expected was Ezi being part of this plan. Ezi must be an angel in Dawson’s eyes.

“So my mother was right,” Dawson said, flicking his finger between Harry and Ezi. “You were lying to everyone.”

“Dawson--” Ezi began, but Harry pulled her back by her wrist.

“Please don’t tell my mother,” he told Dawson and received stunned looks from both Dawson and Ezi. They probably hadn’t expected that coming from him. “This means a lot to her, and I don’t want her to be any more let down,” Harry continued. “Also, Ezi needs money, and I’m just trying to help. She’s also writing the next album with me, so it’s all good business.”

Dawson peered at both their faces for a long moment as if he was psychoanalysing each of them. Then, he breathed, “So you two don't have feelings for each other?”

“No.” Ezi shook her head fast and tugged at Harry’s sleeve. “Harry, tell him.”

Harry opened his mouth. Suddenly, he thought about how frightened he’d been when he’d thought Ezi’s sister was going to kill her. He could’ve run off and let her deal with it alone since he hadn’t asked to be part of her family drama, and he wasn’t brave, either. Nevertheless, he’d jumped in to help her.

“No,” he said, only to realise he shouldn’t have taken such a long pause to say only one word.

“See?” Ezi smiled at Dawson, who seemed less sceptical now.

“Okay,” Dawson said, his face relaxed as he put his hands on his hips. “Who else knows? Niall and Mikasa?”

“Mikasa doesn’t know,” Harry said. “Only Niall.”

“Alright.” Dawson nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But you guys are really bad at pretending to be in love,” he told them after another moment. “I’ll try to tell my mum to stop being rude to you. But just to be safe, you should make it more convincing.”

Ezi heaved a sigh of relief and placed her hand on Dawson’s arm. Harry swore he saw Dawson hold his breath as if Ezi had the Midas touch, and Harry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“Thank you, Dawson,” Ezi said in the softest tone Harry had ever heard.

“Your dress,” Dawson pointed out while eyeing her and then the kitchen. “What...what happened here?”

“There was a rat,” Harry blurted.

Ezi joined in, “Harry tried to kill it then it knocked over the vase, and I fell and pulled him down with me and ripped my dress on the glass.”

Dawson furrowed his brows as he nodded at the piece of Ezi’s dress in her fist. “That’s your blood?”

Ezi shook her head. “It’s the rat’s.” Then, she looked over at Harry, suppressing a grin. He stayed quiet and glared at her.

“Oh, God. That’s disgusting,” Dawson made a face. “Need me to help you clean up?”

“No, I’ll take care of it,” Harry said. “I’ll take Ezi upstairs to clean up. Could you distract everyone for a while?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dawson nodded, gave Ezi a tight-lipped smile and turned to the door. “Now, where the hell is the cook?”

.

.

.

Harry could hear every single word of the Jonas Brothers song playing downstairs. It seemed like everyone had finished brunch without him and Ezi, and now Niall was turning the manor into a concert. Niall and Mikasa had met at a Jonas Brothers’ concert years ago, and they would not let people forget about it. What they had was cute, but Harry could not imagine being with someone for that long. A PR relationship was tiring enough; he didn’t think he could ever handle a real one.

Back against the wall, he stared at his watch and tapped his foot impatiently before he came to knock on the door to his mother’s walk-in closet. “Ezi, are you done?”

“I don’t know how to put this on!”

Harry tossed his head back and groaned. “Do you need help?”

“Yeah!”

“Goddamn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Cover yourself. I’m coming in.”

Just to be safe, he had his hand over his eyes when he opened the door.

You'll say my name like it's been on your lips

Familiar in ways I can't explain

You got a heart that I know I can miss

Hold me like that and pull me right back again

The music outside became muffled. Harry peeked through the gap between his fingers, and nearly had a heart attack when he saw Ezi standing there topless with only jeans on. “I told you to cover yourself!”

“Oh, please, there’s nothing you haven’t seen.”

“It’s different every time.”

“How? I’ve only got one body.”

“No, seeing you feels different every time. It’s weird.”

Time stands still and it's only us

What we feel started way before we ever touched

Just imagine only us

Yeah, you found me right before I'd given up

Ezi said nothing, and Harry lowered his hand, feeling glad that she was facing away from him now. She looked over her shoulder, frowning. “Help me with this shirt!”

He ruffled his hair and padded over to take the shirt from her hand. “You got the button stuck?! This is my mother’s favourite Chanel shirt!”

“It was like that when I found it.”

“Liar.” Harry shook his head and started examining the stuck button. Ezi turned around, hugging her chest so her breasts weren’t exposed to him. He was trying his best not to look. Maybe he shouldn’t have put her in a dress that didn’t require a bra. He guessed he’d played himself.

“Harry.”

“Damn, maybe I should get you another shirt and buy a new one for my mum. I don't know how to fix this.”

“Harry,” Ezi repeated and tapped Harry on the arm. He looked up, face heating when he saw her.

I just saw the lightning strike

Knew it right then when I looked in your eyes

And I said to myself, "It's no surprise we ain't strangers"

Strangers tonight

Still, he acted indifferent. “What?”

“I think we should kiss,” she said, making him flinch.

“Why?” He was already sweating through his palms. His mother’s shirt could no longer be saved now.

“To make it more convincing,” Ezi said as if them kissing wasn’t a big deal to her. “Maybe if there’s a picture of us kissing--”

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

She froze at the question and blinked at him.

I came here looking for another excuse

To run away from something beautiful

It's like it's driving me closer to you

Every step back pulls me right back

At this question, Ezi’s whole life up until that point flashed before her eyes. She had lost count of all the times she’d kissed sailors before drowning them. But she wasn’t going to kiss Harry to kill him. Not yet at least. He would still be there, alive, when she opened her eyes. He would still be aware of her lips against his. And she would, too.

“No,” she lied.

And he believed it. He cleared his throat. Suddenly, her standing there topless wasn’t weird anymore. “Okay, it’s pretty easy.” He put the shirt aside. His fingers were shaking so he opened and closed his fists a few times before beckoning her over. “Come here.”

She took a step forward.

“Closer.”

Another step.

Harry’s face reddened with a small smile. “Ezi, closer.”

He’d never talked to her in that tone before. It was soft and firm at the same time, and she completely forgot having sworn to herself that she would never let him tell her what to do. She came so close she could not tell his breath from her own. His eyelids fluttered, and his pink lips parted, yet no word escaped. Then, he leaned in.

Must be from a different life

Been here before and it just feels right

No, this ain't the first time for you and I, we ain't strangers

Strangers tonight

But it was her who took his face between her hands and kissed him first. He froze for a second, then started kissing her back, his arms circled around her waist, pressing her against him.

Harry’s entire body grew hot. The voice inside his head told him to stop, but it only made him bolder. He liked that she’d taken charge. Her hands were under his shirt as his roamed across her naked back. His eyes went wide when she unconsciously let out a moan.

Strangers

Strangers

Strangers tonight

“Ezi,” he breathed against her lips. But before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door.

“Harry, are you in there?”

Ezi pulled away as Harry threw his head back and exhaled harshly. “Yes, Niall?”

“Is Ezili there with you?”

“Yes,” Harry answered in a croaked voice and quickly cleared his throat. “Yes,” he repeated, sounding more stable. “Why?”

“You missed all the fun stuff. Your mother scolded your aunt for what she’d said to you and Ezi, and Dawson had to take his mother’s home.”

Harry looked over at Ezi, expecting her to be thrilled by the good news, but she only gave a small smile, her arms still tightly wrapped around herself to cover her breasts. Was she...shy?

Yes, yes she was. Ezi didn’t think she could ever be shy. But here she stood, blushing all over from a stupid kiss.

“Are they in there?” Harry’s mother’s voice outside the door made Harry and Ezi jump.

They looked at each other, scared when Niall told Harry’s mum that they were in the closet together.

“Not in my closet, Harry!”

“I’m just helping Ezi get changed, Mum!”

“You better!”

And then their footsteps faded down the hallway, along with his mother’s laughter.

Ezi and Harry made eye contact with each other and looked away at the same time as silence ensued. Suddenly, Harry started sniffing.

“What is it?” Ezi asked, worried.

Harry leaned in and started sniffing her neck, and she pushed him away. “What the hell?!”

“You smell.”

“Excuse me?!”

“No.” Harry shook his head fast. “You smell good. But..you didn’t have a smell before.”

Ezi quickly lifted her arm to smell herself. “I smell nothing.”

“That’s because it’s your own smell, so you don't recognise it. But--” Harry cut off midsentence and picked up a strand of her hair and brought his nose to it. Then, his lips curled. “Aww, my kiss turned you a little more human.”

“Shut up!” Ezi shoved at his chest. “I’m not turning more human! That’s not true!”

“It is true! Kiss me again. I’ll prove it.”

She said nothing, only glared at him as he burst out laughing and tossed her a t-shirt.

[migilini]

Chosen Family - Sunset Curve

summary: The boys didn’t show up for school so you and Bobby meet them in the Studio and spend the afternoon with them.

a/n: The JATP Discord Server I’m in gave me this Idea :) Prob gonna wrote more little blurbs about 1995 Sunset Curve.

words: 1.8k

warnings: pure friendship fluff

Requests are open

MASTERLIST

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

“Are they here?” you asked Bobby who sat next to you in biology, your pent tapping the desk impatiently. He shook his head and took out his notebook “I don't know I haven't seen most of them today.”

“Okay, if they’re not here at lunch, I'll skip for the afternoon and see if they’re still alive,” you grumbled. Bobby let out a loud laugh “You know that it isn't your responsibility?”

“I know but it's our job as friends to care. And this is just my way to do so.” you shrugged your shoulders and flipped through the book to find the right page.

"Sure this has nothing to do with the big test this afternoon?" You gave Bobby an offended look.

“Miss Y/L/N and Mister Wilson would you like to share your conversation with the class?” Miss Kluster scolded, crossing her arms over her blue blouse, a thigh frown on her red lips as she looked at the teenagers angrily.

“No Miss.,” the friends said simultaneously.

“Good. Then be quiet now. The class has started.”

You and Bobby looked at each other with a smirk, you rolled your eyes slightly while he scrunched his nose.

++

You let your tray fall on the table, making the only other person sitting and the food on it jump. “Woah! Why so aggressive? Guessing Alex wasn't in English?”

"Nope." You shook your head and popped the p with slight annoyance. “Did you have more luck?” Bobby shook his head. You sighed and packed your lunch into your bag. You looked at him expectantly "You coming with?" He shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and mumbled something that you took as a yes. He clumsily tried to get up while simultaneously packing the rest of his things and nearly fell backwards off the bench.

Getting out of school wasn't hard, especially when you’ve skipped several times and knew where the teachers normally stood to watch, not that you ever skipped school to hang out with your musician friends. You and Bobby sneaked around the teachers' room and took the long way around the gymnasium, only to climb out of the boys' locker room window and then run over the football field to the parking lot where his car stood.

“Let's be honest here, you also wanted me to go because you don't have a car.” Bobby realised once the two of you sat comfortably in his car. In fake pain, you held a hand to your chest. “I would NEVER use you like a free taxi. I normally ask Reggie but he isn't here so…”

Bobby gave your shoulder a light shove before turning the music louder and driving off.

“I heard you crying loud, all the way across town. Cause you been searching for that someone. And it's me out on the prowl” you started to sing along to the Greenday song blaring from the radio station. Scrolling down the window, you held your hand out, embracing the warm summer air. Your hair flying wildly around your face.

You always did something like that, needing the feeling of being free, “I think it's the closest thing to being able to fly.” you always told the boys when they made a side comment.

Bobby drummed along to the song, his fingers tapping the steering wheel with force. When the chorus came, you smiled over at Bobby and turned the volume even higher. At a red stoplight, he lightly turned to you and you both screamed the lyrics at the top of your lungs.

A couple of minutes later, the car slowed down about a couple of houses down the street from the studio. The two of you got out and walked closer, trying hard to blend in. “I swear to god if Miss Lilith snitches on us again…”

“She’s on vacation I think.” Bobby interrupted your sentence about his nosy neighbour that always seemed to know when you should've been in school. Still, you didn't want to take any chances and ducked behind bushes before you were in the safe space in front of the studio.

“It’s quiet,” Bobby muttered to you, his ear pressed to the wood door. “What if they starved to death?” you whispered to him, now your ear pressed against the door as well.

“Or they’re still asleep?”

“It’s a bit late, even for them.”

“Maybe they went home?” you shot Bobby a troubled glance.

“Or we just went on a walk.” a voice suddenly said, behind you two, making you and Bobby clutch to each other with a scream.

“Jesus Christ! Guys do you want us to die?” you scolded the three grinning boys in front of you.

“I missed you guys too!” Reggie embraced you and Bobby in a bone-crushing hug, whilst the others walked back into the studio.

Luke plopped down on his couch, your school bag already in his hands. “What do we have in here?” he questioned out loud and rummaged through the food you brought with you. He took out a yoghurt and threw it into Alex’s direction who caught it with ease, then he threw Reggie an apple and a chocolate bar and for him, he took out half of the sandwich from your lunch. The other half he held out in your direction.

“Oh no thank you, Luke. I’m good.” you tried to wave it off “I brought it for you guys.” But his eyes only darkened slightly, his half of the sandwich poking out of his mouth and he waved the sandwich again so you took it with an eye roll.

Whenever you skipped school to hang out with them, the topic of school was forbidden. They knew that you and Bobby only wanted the best for them, a healthy home life, an education, a change other than music to move out and you knew that it was very hard to basically live on the streets and have missing signs all over the city or parents that always fight or won't accept you for who you really are. So the topic never came up and every time you told yourself that you would bring it up next time, that you had to discuss this and every time you didn't.

The group sat quietly in a circle, some on chairs and couches but most chose to sit on the ground. Your head rested on Alex’ stomach, his hands playing with your hair. Meanwhile, Bobby was half asleep on the couch, Reggie played random chords on his bass and Luke was rapidly writing down stuff in his notebook.

“Y/N?” Reggie's voice shattered the quiet and you were reminded that you were not chilling alone. Lifting your head you looked over at your friend “Yes Reg?”

“Uhm...could you maybe...uhm give me a haircut? I would need money for that and for money I would have to go home and that is something that I don't want to do especially after…” he rambled on. You quickly got up and crouched in front of him, your hands resting on his knees.

“I can try.” you chuckled “Last time I cut Lukes he didn't complain too much so let's try!” you patted his knee assuringly.

So you stood, a couple of minutes later, behind one of your best friends who was currently describing how he wanted his hair. He sat in a chair, an old plastic bag pulled over his head, his arms gesturing wildly how long what should be.

You, on the other hand, tried really hard to listen to his wishes while clutching a bottle with water and a, what you guessed was in fact not a haircut scissor, scissor in the other hand.

You shot Alex a look, silently asking him to memorize the steps as well. “Luke was definitely a simpler client,” you said under your breath but the others still heard.

“I’m sorry I care about my looks!” Reggie exclaimed and crossed his arms childishly. You leaned down to his ear and whispered “That’s why you're the cutest but don't tell the others okay?” that was all it took for him to sit up straight again, a big toothy smile plastered on his freckled face.

With a little frown on your face and the tip of your tongue slightly sticking out, you began to cut Reggie's hair. He wanted it longer on top, but the hair in the back of his head must be a bit shorter than his fringe, the sides had to be short but not so short that you could see his skull and he wanted a fade but not a big fade. The sounds of metal cutting hair filled the room.

“Guys listen to this bridge,” Luke spoke up, maybe a bit too loudly for the others' taste. Bobby grunted from his sleeping position, shot Luke the finger and went back to sleep.

“Luke! That scared me I could’ve cut Reggie's ear off!”

“But did you?” he remarked. As a joke you pulled on both of Reggie's ears lightly “Nope, they still seem pretty attached to his head.”

Luke showed you guys a song he called ‘Bright’ “It’s clearly not done and we still need the rest of the instruments but whatcha think?”

Alex patted Luke’s shoulder “I love it, man!”

“Sounds dope!”

“It’s good. I like it wery musch” you muttered with a comb in your mouth, focused on the boy with hair in front of you.

“And we’re done!” you announced and held your hands away as if you just participated in a bake-off. Reggie jumped up and ran into the small bathroom at the end of the studio. Nervously, you fiddled with the comb in your right hand.

“And? How bad did I mess up?” you asked him hopefully the moment he walked back out.

“You did such a great job!” he said, a grin taking over his face yet again. “Thank you so much.” he gave you a hug.

You both knew that it wasn't perfect, it was shaggy and crooked in some places and the fade was mostly one length instead of a gradient but it looked good, was cheap, added to his rockstar image and most importantly for Reggie, you did it.

“Y/N can you cut my hair too?”

[xpeachesncream]

acquainted | ten

> series masterlist | series playlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: jungkook x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 2.7k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, jealousy, some good car sex w/ breast play, straddling, fingering, a lil spit play

note: to the anon who requested the one shot, i promise i have it done - i can’t post it juuuust yet tho lol

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead @bluesharksandfish @photographic-girl @yonkoghan @moonchild1​ @thebeebi​ (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"How was your date, Jungkookie?" Hoseok asks as he forks into his salad. Jungkook sits in front of Hoseok and Yoongi, while Namjoon and Jin sit off to either of his sides. Kook does a simple chuckle with his nose scrunched as he's digging into his fries.

"Good." He smirked.

"Oooh, Jungkookie has a girlfriend!" Hoseok laughed, causing both Namjoon and Jin to shoot looks at each other while shifting in their seats.

"No, but I hope to ask her out."

"Wait, like really ask her to be your girlfriend?" Yoongi chimed in, his gummy smile coming forth with a small high-pitched laugh. "How cute."

"Yeah, I want to. Not right at this moment, but I've already been planning on how to have this talk with her about being exclusive."

"Aw, our Kookie is growing up!"

"Shut up." Jungkook laughs. "I just really like her. She's beautiful, and smart and fun to be around."

"Are you seeing her today?"

"No, but I'm gonna hang out with her tomorrow. She has stuff to get done."

"Do you see her a lot?"

"A good amount, but I try not to suffocate her."

"Jin, you haven't said anything. What's up with you?" Jin looks up from his plate, eyes quickly roaming between all of them.

"Sorry, I just knew all of this already. It's nothing unexpected." He gives off a fake chuckle.

"Grace issues?" He shrugged.

"Sure, but this isn't about me." They nod and shift their attention back to Jungkook. Whew.

"Have you gotten her in bed?"

"Woah, Yoongi? What the fuck." Namjoon laughed.

"I'm just curious and we're always honest with each other right?" Joon shoots Jin a quick look before shaking his head at Yoongi.

"No." Kook chuckled. "I mean I don't care for it much. If she isn't ready to take that step with me then I won't force her."

"What a gentleman! Jin you taught him well." They laughed. Jin is reciprocating the energy with a small smile, as that's the best he can do right now. He didn't want this topic to come up only because he did already know how Jungkook felt about you. Yes, he felt bad, but also, he didn't want to let up on you. He wasn't going to, and Namjoon can easily tell he wasn't over you even though he told Jungkook to go for it. He hated having this silent competition. He knew his feelings for you were growing and he couldn't help but feel like a child over it.

I saw her first. I got her first. Me. Not you.

And so their conversation over an early dinner gets put to rest, Jin thanking God that no one pressed him more about Grace or why he truly wasn't saying much. They were all too caught up in Jungkook's feelings. All, except Namjoon. Jin gets to his classroom a little early to get himself together for class, gathering all his thoughts and feelings about you, Jungkook, Grace, etc., and pushing it to a far, far corner in his mind. At least, until class is over.

[Namjoon] 5:04pm: You couldn't be any more obvious.

[Jin] 5:05pm: What are you talking about now?

[Namjoon] 5:05pm: You're still seeing her. Or, let me rephrase - You're still trying to pursue her even after you told your brother to go for it.

[Jin] 5:06pm: It's complicated.

[Namjoon] 5:06pm: Seokjin, please. What did I tell you? Don't start this mess.

[Jin] 5:07pm: It'll be fine, okay? I appreciate the concern but stop worrying about me.

He sighs as he paces around the front of his room. The real reason as to why you weren't hanging out with Jungkook tonight was because of him. He needed to see you. Feel you. Touch you. Be close to you. There was also something he needed to bring up, hoping you'd agree to it.

Namjoon was right. The concern is valid. However, if things pull through the way Seokjin expects it to, then he knows what he has to do from there. He'll know how to approach this better. Hopefully.

Seeing you in class makes him feel at ease. He loves the little smiles you send his way when you both make eye contact. He just loves to look at you. Smiling and laughing with your friends. Your serious face when it's time to focus. He has it bad for you.

"Alright, class. Get those in to me on time by next week and I'll think about the movie." Jin laughs as the class has mixed reactions while packing up their things.

"But Mr. Kim it's a really good movie, don't you think we deserve a little break in class?" Taehyung whines as he picks up his bag.

"I always think you guys deserve a break, the movie though? Not sure if it's my cup of tea."

"Awww come on, just once." The class whined, making Jin laugh that adorable laugh he has. It was cute to see how adored Jin was by your classmates. He truly was a great teacher and made it a safe environment for everyone. Completely inclusive.

"I'll sleep on it. See you guys next week." He smiles and flashes a wink at a couple of people leaving the classroom saying their goodbyes. He stands at the front, his hands dug into his pockets as he looks at you and Ryujin coming down the steps - always being the last to leave.

"I'm counting on you, Mr. Kim." Ryujin says, flipping her hair.

"Counting on me for what?"

"The movie." She turns to look at you. "And other things." You shove her out the door before looking over at Jin, who hasn't stopped chuckling.

"You heard her." He nods.

"Pick you up in a few?" He asks, almost at a whisper. You return the nod and smile before walking out. You silently walk next to Ryujin, thinking about what tonight would be about. Not gonna lie, you were excited to be alone with him again, even if that meant being in his car, sitting in silence. The thought alone made you happy. The thought made you push through the day just to get to this point.

"Are you seeing him?"

"Yeah." Is all you respond to Ryujin with.

"Be careful, okay?"

"I know." Ryujin knew you weren't going to let up on Jin easily. She too, just like Namjoon, could tell that you had developed deep feelings for him, yet she just didn't know how you would approach it. Whatever it was though, she was going to have your back and be there for you. She just wished you had told the boys because handling you alone is work! Extra support would have been nice!

Getting home, you toss your things aside and start working on a few assignments until Jin is texting you that he's outside of your building. You feel a little nervous, as if it's a first date when it's really not. You step out of the elevator and into the lobby, just to see him ahead in the driver's seat. He has one hand resting along the wheel while he's scrolling through his phone in the other.

"Hey." You say as you hop into the passenger's seat. He puts his phone down and looks at you, his head tilted towards you and rested against the headrest.

"Hey pretty girl." He softly smiles as he leans over to kiss you on the lips. "Want some ice cream?" You laugh.

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not?" He begins to drive off, taking you to a nearby ice cream joint.

"How was your day today?" You ask him as he's roaming the streets looking for parking.

"It was alright. Went to work for a bit and met up with the boys for an early dinner before class."

"How was that?" He keeps his eyes on the road.

"Mm, good. I love sitting around and hearing about my brother's feelings for you." You chuckle at his sarcasm.

"You're dramatic."

"Call it what you want." He says. "It's still not fair."

"You can do something about it, you choose not to though." You straight up tell him. He parks his car and looks over at you, a small smirk plastered on his face.

"So, do you want me to do something about it?"

"Jin, please. Don't turn this on me. You're the one whining." You get out of the car. It was true. He kept talking about Jungkook and how he couldn't stand it, but yet, his ass was over here doing absolutely nothing. You expected that much though, because what? Was he just going to up and leave his fiancé because of a little jealousy? You honestly didn't think it was that deep for Jin. Maybe a little bit of a competition, but nothing too serious. And that was honestly the most painful realization for you.

You probably weren't worth it.

"I'm not whining, love. Trust me." You subtly roll your eyes at the weak comeback, but you don't throw in a rebuttal. Were you worth it? It was hard to read Jin sometimes. There were days where you felt like this could be more, then there were days where you felt dumb as hell for even having the thought cross your mind.

Like right now, you feel like this could be more with the way he's letting you taste his ice cream, his hand below your chin to catch any melting ice cream from dripping onto your clothing. He takes his cone back to his lips at the same time he's raising the napkin to the corners of your lips. You're both sitting in his car, overlooking the bay and the San Francisco skyline view in his back seat. There's a walking trail in front of the small lot his car is currently parked in, but no one is around. It's just you, Seokjin and your ice cream cones.

"Mmmm, thank you." You say gobbling up the last bit of your cone.

"You're welcome." He chuckles. "How was your day?" You shrugged.

"Same old." You fold your leg onto the seat while the other draped over it just so you could turn and look at Jin. You lean your head against the seat, watching him eat the last bits of his cone. You admired him, and you couldn't help but marvel at how absolutely breathtaking he was. The goddamn nerve. He was literally sitting there in a hoodie and jeans and you thought he was the most endearing thing.

"Sounds fun." He clears his throat as he tosses the napkin into the cup holder in front.

"Why'd you bring me out here?"

"I just wanted to see you. Is that too much to ask for?" He looked at you. "I missed you."

"You see me in class."

"It's not the same and you know it." He cocks his head to the side again to look at you. "Come here." He grabs your hand to pull you closer to him and leans in for a kiss. You rest your hand on his neck as you continue to kiss him back, the sounds of slow kisses being exchanged filling the car. You climb onto his lap as the kiss deepens, your hands gripping Jin's face while his warm, soft hands explored inside your sweater. "You drove me crazy the other night." He whispers as you slightly pull away.

"Good." You respond, bringing your lips back onto his, slowly grinding your hips into his.

"Fuck." He hisses. He quickly aids in removing your leggings before unbuckling his jeans. You feel his hardened member underneath his boxer briefs against your clothed folds, causing you to slightly tilt your head back in pleasure. You feel his hands travel up to your bra, unhooking it and raising your sweater to suck on your nipples freely. You feel his tongue working in circular motions on your hardened bud, causing you to let out a breathy moan. His eyes wander up to your face, slightly shutting close when he sees how much you're enjoying this. He moves to the other breast, his free hand cupping the one he had just removed himself from, tongue exploring your nipple. His hand moves down to aggressively hook your panties to the side, giving him room to swipe his fingers up and down your wet folds.

"Oh shit." You slightly jerk at the sensation, his long fingers taking their sweet time spreading your wetness all around your pussy.

"You're so fucking wet." He keeps his eyes on you and watches your eyes roll to the back of your head when he inserts two digits, pumping them in and out. It's incredibly hot to him how fucking wet you are, the sounds of your pussy now echoing in the car.

"Jin, ohhhhshit." You mewl. "I'm gonna cum." He continues to pump his long fingers into you, the feeling of both pain and pleasure radiating throughout your body. He curves his digits upwards, tickling your core to send you hurdling over the edge. You buck in your position from how hard the orgasm hits you, Jin's wet fingers swiping your folds and gently caressing your sensitive clit. You squeal, the overstimulation becoming a little overbearing but it feels so fucking good. You unbury his hardened member from his boxer briefs, letting your spit dribble down onto his cock as you play with the pre-cum pooling at the head.

"Oh fuck, Y/N. Don't do that shit." He tilts his head back in pleasure. You silently chuckle as you jerk him, getting his dick a little wet before hopping on and filling yourself up with it.

"Ugh, why do you feel so fucking good?" You moan as you fix your position onto him, slowly riding him and easing your way into it. You slip his two fingers into your mouth to taste yourself, his fingers still dripping from your cum.

"I-I've been wanting to fuck you so badly." He lets out a breathy moan. "The things you do to me."

"Yeah?" You say, picking up the pace as his hands guide your hips and direct your pace.

"Just like that, baby." He groans. You love when he called you baby. It made you want to give him all of you.

Your hands are resting on his shoulders, gripping tightly as you grind your hips in a steady motion. You cock your head back in pleasure, Seokjin's hands gripping your breasts. You begin to roll your hips slowly, a louder moan erupting from both him and you.

"I'mgonnafuckingcum." Your words mesh together, unable to speak clearly at how good he feels deep inside of you.

"You're so tight. God, you feel so good, gonna cum with you." Sooner or later, a roll of the hip or two in, your coil is spiraling out of control, causing you to yell Jin's name as you scratch onto his clothed shoulders, his fingers digging deep into your skin as he fills you up at the same time you're milking his dick.

His head slowly raises from against your chest, his cheeks tinted and eyes slightly glazed. He smiles up at you, his lips locking with yours once more before you climb off to clean yourself.

"Y/N." He says, tucking himself back in and getting himself situated in the seat.

"Hm?" You hook your bra back together and fix your sweater.

"I'm going to LA this weekend for a quick business conference." You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure why he was telling you this. It's not like you asked him for a daily play by play.

"Okay, have fun?" You chuckle.

"Meet me there." He looks at you. "I have to be there by Friday morning, but I know you still have work and school."

"Meet you.. in LA?" He nods.

"I really want you to. I'll buy your plane ticket. But also, know that I'm not forcing you." He slightly sighs. "I just wanna be able to spend time with you and do other things together besides fucking each other's brains out."

"Um," is all you can respond with. Because hell to the fuck yes you wanted this. But you weren't sure why you were hesitating? Maybe it was a big jump and you were scared of taking it? The lies you'd have to tell people about where you would be going this weekend? It was all such a mess. Such a huge, huge mess. Part of you also felt like this would be such an easy way for Grace to find out.

"You don't have to tell me your answer now but— just know it'll make me really happy to have you there with me." He looks at you softly, a small smile creeping at the corner of his lips. Perhaps, you were worth it.

[beautiful-bau-beau]

helloooo!! I have a Spencer request :) Could you write one where Spencer is injured (maybe like when he broke his leg or something like that) and he stays round yours and you look after him, help him shower, comfort him and stuff :)

Anonymous said to beautiful-bau-beau: could u do a soulmate au w spence where you feel the share pain with your soulmate, i think it would be interesting since spencer seems to be shot or nearly killed in almost every episode 

Sticks and Stones

fem!reader/Spencer Reid

masterlist

[Set in season 5 when Spencer gets shot in the leg but makes references to Maeve]

----

To the average eye flowers are soft, simple little things. They spark romance in the hearts of budding couples, they aid the grieving widows, their beauty inspires the masses in forms such as poetry and art. For some, flowers only caused distress.

Few were "fortunate" in the world to have soulmates. Once twelve years of age, a soul bound to another would feel the pain, to a lesser extent, as well as receive a flower at the sight of the intrusion. Small purple blooms grew at bruises, at a cut, the flowers would mimic the length and size. Any other type of pain was indicated by large, red blossoms. As each wound healed, the flowers would wilt and die.

You were among the many to few flowers as flimsy nuisances, only serving as reminders of the pain you had to go through.

Before turning twelve you often wondered if you had a soulmate. You had spent many days vividly imagining who your soulmate was, what he looked like, what he did for a living, choosing to ignore that if you indeed had one, a lifetime of pain was sure to follow.

Lifetime of pain indeed.

Your soulmate must have been a stuntman, a police officer, hell- even a lion tamer with the amount of pain he seemed to put you through. The occasional bruise and scrape seemed to hit you up until your early twenties, that's when the real pain began.

Every other day it seemed that you were doubled over, screaming in agony. You were an ugly vision of purple and red, but hell, it seemed to strike up a conversation with you and your patients.

You served as a private duty nurse, taking care of patients in the safety of their own home. You enjoyed the one-on-one with your patients, and it was decidedly better than working in a crowded hospital with a difficult schedule.

You had just finished a job working with an elderly woman, as her granddaughter had recently decided to move in with her to take care of her. It was a sad departure, but the job had finished and it was now time for you to find another patient in need.

You were employed through a small local medical office and received career requests through their office website.

One particular request caught your eye that morning from a Ms. Penelope Garcia. A friend of hers had recently been shot in the leg and needed to quickly recover before returning to his job.

You eyed your own leg, sighing heavily. It still seemed to throb harshly every once in a while.

A week ago, out of nowhere, an extreme pain radiated through your leg, causing you to drop what you were doing and scream. Thankfully you hadn't been on the job but the look of pity your neighbors gave you the next day felt just as awful. Every time you glanced at the offending appendage you could swear you saw another blossom grow.

"You and me both, buddy." You mumbled, picking up your phone. The job seemed simple enough, and hopefully you would be able to bond with this new patient by shared leg pain.

-

"You ordered a nurse for me?" Spencer hissed into his cell, turning to look over his shoulder. "I can take care of myself!" He eyed your figure, currently unpacking a medical bag. You had entered his apartment mere minutes ago, not understanding his confusion.

"Are you Spencer Reid?" You asked, greeting his wheel-chair bound figure. "I'm Y/n Y/l/n, the nurse your girlfriend Penelope ordered." You were met with a blank stare. "Is she uh.. here?"

"I'm going to have to make a phone call." Spencer blurted, wheeling himself inside. He left the door open so you took it upon yourself to enter.

"Spencer, I love you but are you listening to yourself right now?" Penelope replied, twirling a pen around her fingers. "You were shot a week ago, you're in a wheelchair. How are you going to shower? Replace your bandages? Sweets, this nurse will help you. And before you even have to ask I already checked and your insurance covers this!"

"Garcia-"

"I won't hear anything more about it as I know I'm right! Goodbye, dear!" A heavy sigh came from the man, and he placed his cellphone back in his pocket. He turned to look at you again, wheeling his way over to you.

"I apologize for earlier. I wasn't exactly informed that you would be coming here." He placed his hands on his lap, awkwardly.

"That's alright!" You chirped. " You’re low-risk so I won’t invade your space too much by staying overnight with you. I'm here to help with personal medical care, bathing, trimming nails, and making you comfortable.... as well as urinary and colostomy care." His eyes widened and you simply waved him off. "I get it. It's weird. But from what I read through of your medical reports, the bullet went clear through and you'll need a crutch in two weeks! At least you're not hooked up to a catheter?" You tried to joke. You were met with another simple stare.

"Let's uh, change your bandages, shall we?"

-

It had been a few days since you started working with Spencer. He was a nice man, a little awkward, and seemed to be more of an introvert, so you respected his space. He seemed to take to staying in bed, simply asking for books every once and awhile.

"There's no way you're able to read all these so quickly. You'd have to be superhuman..." You teased, bringing him a stack of his latest requests.

"I have an IQ of 187 and can read 20,000 words per minute." Spencer replied, catching your eye. He flushed under your surprised glance. "...Not to brag."

"Well... that'll do it." You set each book in your arm down, one by one, a particular title catching your eye. "The Narrative of John Smith?"

"Have you read it?" He asked, trying not to sound too eager. He hadn't originally pegged you for an Arthur Conan Doyle fan.

"Uh, no." You scratched behind your ear sheepishly. "But a few friends of mine have, they all highly recommend it. What do you think? Does it live up to all the hype?" Spencer opened his mouth but shut it almost immediately, causing your brows to furrow.

"I can't tell you what to read... it's just a very special book to me."

"Did someone special give you the book? Penelope?" Spencer let out a chuckle, hissing as he adjusted himself on his bed.

"Garcia is just a friend but you're correct, someone special gave me the book."

"A soulmate?" You asked, immediately regretting your choice of words. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. I'm just the nosy nurse that asks too many questions." You knew it was a sensitive topic for some, with or without the soulmate.

"No, it wasn't from a soulmate... but I wish she was." Spencer's voice grew soft. You felt as if you had stepped too far, intruded upon a fond memory.

"I do have one though." He continued, noticing your unease. "Sometimes I worry I imagined her but every once and awhile, I'll notice some flowers by my legs, the likely result of a cut from shaving or bruises." You let out a laugh, leaning against his door frame.

"I would love a low-risk soulmate like that. He must jump through flaming hula-hoops or something. I could make a decent living as a florist." You murmured.

"That's got to be tough." Spencer observed, noticing no flowers on your arm.

"I guess he's a lot like you." You lifted up your pant leg, crimson petals on display. "His reason can't be nearly as heroic as yours, though." Spencer couldn't suppress the smile that grew from the compliment.

"Well I guess you'll have to find him and ask."

"Well you're in the FBI right? Let's formulate a profile and find him so I can give him a piece of my mind. You in?" You teased.

"Sounds like a worthy use of all my newfound time." He let out a small huff of amusement, eyeing your figure. He appreciated how lighthearted and casual you were. He noticed the space you gave him and your little efforts to make the apartment easier to maneuver around. Although he hadn't seemed motivated at first, something told him he should get to know you more.

-

"Y/n?" Spencer asked, drawing your attention away from one of the books you had borrowed from his shelf. "Is there any way we can wash my hair?" He had procrastinated in asking, too embarrassed for whatever your plan was for showering.

"Of course! I could cut it too if you'd like." You offered, standing to wheel him into the bathroom.

"Are you saying you don't like my hair?" He faked an offended tone which he knew would make you laugh.

"I think your hair is beautiful, right at that perfect length before it gets too weird for any man to wear." You snorted. You moved him to a stool, not too difficult a feat as he was able to support the majority of his weight on his good leg. "Alright, the shirt has got to come off."

"Isn't against a code to try and seduce your patients?" Spencer teased. Since your conversation the other day he had grown to feel more comfortable with you and a friendship ensued. You took care when treating him and told stories of past patients. It was clear you loved what you did and cared for the people even more.

"Oh please. If I was seducing you, which I'm not, you'd know." You rolled your eyes, waiting for him to lift his arms before peeling his shirt off of him. He leaned back, long tresses falling into a pool in the sink.

He was extremely handsome, you couldn't deny it. His sharp cheekbones and jawline, his full and enticing lips, the way his hand flexed as he read.... you didn't notice any of that. You especially didn't notice how wonderfully intelligent he was, or how kind. Not at all.

Besides, it would never work. You both had your respective soulmates and he seemed to still be carrying a torch for the past relationship he was in. Not to mention the most important factor of all, he was your patient.

You carefully stepped around him to grab a large and small towel, snickering as you found a familiar design on one.

"Star Trek fan?" You asked, hanging the fabric on the shower rail and turning the tap on to warm water.

"Typically I'm not one for fiction but surprisingly there aren't that many scientific errors in Star Trek, especially considering how long ago it was made. There are certain improbabilities, but not that many outright errors, which make it so enjoyable to watch."

"Eh, I've only seen the film from 2009, and I was mostly paying attention to the deliciously handsome cast." You knew that would agitate him. "And not just for Chris Pine but Zachary Quinto as Spock? Oh, he is gorgeous, even if he is gay. Not that there's anything wrong with being gay, and not that I had a chance with him anyway." You laughed.

"Y/n, I am not one to comment on the education of another but you are seriously missing out! Star Trek: The Next Generation is one of the most influential series of it's time. the new film doesn't even have Data! Data, y/n, Data!" He grumbled as you washed his hair.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Next you're going to tell me that the 1996 Doctor Who movie is better than the series?" He opened his mouth when you raised your soapy hand. "Disregard that statement, I can't afford another argument, I'm already too emotional from our last one." You faked a sniffle.

"You know, most females I talk to don't watch Star Trek or Doctor Who."

"I'm just that amazing, I know." You sighed, moving to grab the washcloth and dousing it with water, handing it to Spencer so he could wash himself. You grabbed the Star Trek towel and started to dry Spencer's hair.                                           

"You're something alright." He retorted, drawing a gasp from you.

"I could have let you sit with greasy hair, you know!" Just for extra measure you rubbed his head a little harsher than before but miscalculated your aim, accidentally hitting your wrist against the marble sink.

Spencer felt pain radiate through his wrist and time seemed to slow. It suddenly seemed to dawn on him all at once. You experienced constant pain, pain he gave you because he was often injured on the job. Not to mention his gunshot wound on your leg and now the purple blossoms forming on his wrist.

 He wanted to shout, yell, jump up, wrap you in a hug. He had finally found his soulmate! However, he remained silent.

When you spoke about your soulmate the other day you seemed angry and forlorn at the amount of pain you had to endure. There was no doubt in his mind that if you knew he was your soulmate, you would walk right out of his life, but not before giving him a swift kick to the ass.

So he stayed quiet.

-

You weren’t sure what changed between you and Spencer. After the shower he mentioned he didn’t feel too well so you guided him to bed. Since then he stayed in his room, barely calling you to his side.

It was weird. If it was any other patient you would have paid no mind and kept to yourself but you thought you had made a connection with Spencer. You enjoyed the banter between you both and finding out your shared interests. It must have all been in your head. You brought yourself out of your thoughts to prepare Spencer’s tea. 

“Here you are!” You called, stepping into his room to hand him the mug. “I’m about to head out, do you need anything else?”

“No, thank you.” You stayed by the door, waiting to see if he would even spare you a glance. When he made no motion to move, you gave up, spinning on your heel to grab your purse and coat. 

“Ah!” You heard Spencer hiss from the other room before feeling a sharp sting on your tongue. Your hand came up to cover your mouth, brows knitting together in confusion. Was he…? Did he…? 

Spencer was your soulmate, he had to be. There was no possible way that him burning his mouth and your pain that followed were coincidences, right? Spencer was your soulmate! So why did you feel your heart drop into your stomach?

You shut the door, racing down the stairs and out of his apartment building, letting the cold air sweep over you. 

There was nothing special about you. You were just a simple nurse and he was your patient. Besides, how were you deserving of Spencer? You weren’t. 

He couldn’t find out, he just couldn’t.

-

You didn’t know if it was just because you knew that Spencer was your soulmate but the tension between the two of you was… palpable. 

“Hey!” You popped your head into his room, his figure jumping in surprise. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you!” You exclaimed.

“Hi?” He greeted, trying to seem calm. You were leaving tomorrow and he was panicking. The past few hours were spent debating about whether he should tell you that he was your soulmate. Could he really just let this opportunity pass by?

“I just wanted to know if you needed anything? I figured you probably ran out of books by now. Everytime I think you’ve reread all the books in your library I keep finding new ones.” You tried to joke. 

“I… Yes. Yes, please.” He mumbled, hiding his gaze. You sighed, wondering for the millionth time what you had done wrong to make him so distant and reclusive. 

“Alright, I’ll take the stack.” You bit your lip to keep from sighing once more, groaning as you picked up the books littered around the room. “God these are heavy.” You whispered under your breath, trying to waddle into the other room as you quickly realized you were losing your grip. It seemed as if it was too late, the pounds of literature falling on your feet.

Both you and Spencer let out a groan, heads snapping towards each other in surprise. 

“Did you- did you feel that?” You asked, even if you knew the answer.

“I did.” Spencer’s voice seemed small. “Y/n, I am so sorry.” You were taken aback, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“You’re sorry?” You questioned, pain forgotten as shame radiated through you. “Am I that bad of a soulmate?” You whispered, clenching your fist to keep tears from pricking your eyes.

“No! No, no, no!” He tried to sit up as straight as he could, internally cursing at how hurt you looked. “I only apologized because… I can’t help but feel like I disappointed you! I am an FBI agent, I’m always going to be in danger therefore putting you in danger. When you first mentioned your soulmate you seemed so… upset. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly be able to make you happy.” He admitted, the tips of his ears turning red as his gaze fell to his lap.

“Disappointed? Past-tense?” You cried. “Did you know about this?” He didn’t move.

“Well… I guess I can’t be angry with that.” You sighed. “I knew too. I just thought that… you wouldn’t want me. You still seemed so in love with whatever woman gave you that book. And out of my league. And my patient.” You let out a wry laugh, sitting on the edge of his bed. 

“Are you kidding me? You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever met. You make me laugh and you are so kind and caring. I am proud to be your soulmate.” He swallowed thickly.

“Spencer you are selfless. You dedicate your life every day to helping others. You are handsome, sweet, and hilarious.” You reached for his hand. “And I am so happy you turned out to be my soulmate.”

Your eyes finally met and before you knew it, your lips smashed against his. 

“I don’t know if you know this… but I happen to get injured on a lot of missions.” He uttered as you pulled apart. “So I have a feeling that I’ll need you around more often.”

“Well Doctor, I think you just might be right.” You giggled, drawing him in for another kiss. 

-----

Feedback is always appreciated!

[ashenburst]

Let It Happen

Fugo x Reader, fluff, 3861 words. Y’all aren’t in a relationship, but you might get into one after the events of this oneshot <3

Purple Haze has a special role here!

A new mission landed in Buccellati's hands. A retaliation ought to be carried out. That alone was a peculiar request, for Buccellati's team wasn't meant for these tasks – but since a higher-up commanded so, no reluctance would be shown. You and Fugo were chosen to do the dirty deed.

This selection was odd too, in your opinion at least. Despite being in the group for a month or so, you picked up on many patterns in their dynamics. When it came to missions, for example, Fugo participated by far the least. Buccellati avoided sending him for some reason. You assumed that his stand simply wasn't adequate.

Thinking more about it, you concluded that it truly was unusual. That and the fact that, out of all team members, you grew to be the closest to him, and yet did not know anything about his ability.

You had the opportunity to ask, but chose not to. You were no nosy type, and you wouldn't pry in case someone didn't wish to speak. You realized right at the beginning that these abilities wouldn't be easily shared with you, for you were new. The general distrust taught you not to snoop, and you were fine with that.

Fugo evidently had no desire to bring up his stand, so why rile him up? It wasn't even that important. Someday, you would find out its power, the same way you chatted to the Pistols and observed Aerosmith's pirouettes.

Understanding and patient as you were, this slow, mannered approach of yours earned immediate approval among your teammates. You recognized your boundaries and never overstepped them, thus remaining on everyone's good side. Even Abbacchio took a quick liking to you. And according to Fugo, that was extraordinary.

Things would reveal themselves on their own, in the right place and time, you reckoned. Upon being assigned your mission, this mindset was awarded. You glanced over to Fugo, knowing you'd soon get to see his stand in action.

"If it's no problem, Buccellati, I just have to finish correcting Narancia's assignments, then we can go," he explained to the team leader. Buccellati nodded in agreement.

"Make sure you're quick."

"Absolutely! Looks like Narancia has been improving, so this will be fast. In fact, he hasn't made a single mistake."

Narancia was sitting next to Fugo with a massive grin, staring at the many check marks and not a single cross on the paper.

"Not a single mistake, you say?" Mista repeated.

"Not a single mistake indeed," Fugo confirmed, vastly proud. This only made Mista laugh.

"Should I tell him?" Mista turned towards Abbacchio, and the white-haired male chuckled. They exchanged mischievous looks. You knew nothing good would come out of this, and so your brows knitted together in worry. Looking back to Narancia and Fugo, you noticed the once grinning boy had a slightly panicked expression. Just what was happening...?

"Tell me what?" Fugo too was beginning to get wary.

"Nothing!" Narancia abruptly responded instead of Mista. He couldn't have made himself more suspicious, you thought, squinting your eyes. You were absolutely certain he was hiding something and he was hiding it from Pannacotta Fugo. Did Narancia value his life that low?

You truly didn't want to see your dear friend vexed all over again, simply because of that boy's silly scheme. So you watched carefully, trying to dismantle this mess in your head before it would be too late.

The gunslinger laughed again, this time with a hand over his mouth. The fact even Abbacchio couldn't keep his amusement to himself, and instead smiled profusely, was enough of an omen.

"Boys, what are you hiding?" Buccellati's question was supposed to bring out some clarity in this situation. However, it failed to, for nobody wanted to speak up.

Fugo skewed the topic a little. "I have no idea what's happening, but I should announce that Narancia hadn't made a single mistake. Good job!"

"Hehe. Easy peasy lemon squeezy," Narancia responded to that.

"Gimme a high five, Narancia," Mista suggested and bent over the table, his hand in the air for Narancia to... not high five it. He shook his head no in awkward refusal.

"Why not?" Mista faked his sadness. "Come on, a little high five. Low five? Any five?"

Narancia grimaced. You rolled your eyes and offered your insight. "Is it that hard to lift your hand and high five Mista? Look." You did it instead of Narancia, which caused Mista a radiant grin. Despite this, the black-haired boy refused. Your doubts were fueled in abundance.

"Is there a reason why you don't want to show your hands?"

Narancia stuck out a tongue at you and lifted his left hand. "Nah. And is there a reason why Fugo and you are being late for the mission?" Oh dear, he was getting too defensive, which you noted with a blank face.

"Narancia!" Fugo scolded. He tried to reach out to the boy's right hand, but Narancia moved it away.

"Narancia, behave yourself immediately and stop this nonsense," Buccellati silenced him. He looked at you, then Fugo. "And you two aren't being late. I believe I know what's behind this farce, so there's no need to ruin yet another table to find out." The leader glared at Narancia and Fugo who were both in uncomfortable positions.

"It's evident, Buccellati. He's been cheating and wrote the answers on his hand," Fugo hissed, letting go of Narancia's biceps. The boy winced.

"On his fingers, to be exact," Abbacchio added nonchalantly.

"Oh fuck off," Narancia grumpily cursed and crossed his arms. Buccellati told you and Fugo to leave, and that he would deal with this problem himself. He tossed you the car keys with a chilling look. It was eerie, you had to admit. But you were glad you didn't get to witness Buccellati's anger, and thus were left with something just a tiny bit better: an annoyed Fugo.

Consequently, the mission began in silence. The two of you exited Libeccio with little to no information available. You knew the location of only one of your targets, and through that one man, you were supposed to find other people behind this conspiracy against the Famiglia. This was a job for your stand, obviously – you would pinpoint and track any target once it's marked. However, it had no destructive power, because it was literally a pair of binoculars. What could you do with them, hit someone in the head?

That was where you supposed Fugo's stand would step in. Something deadly for sure, to kill off everyone in this group. If what Buccellati had heard was correct, they had a meeting later that day, meaning all of them would be gathered on one spot. Convenient for killing.

You reached the car Buccellati was kind enough to borrow. You unlocked it and were about to enter, when you felt Fugo's hold on your hand. "I can drive," he offered.

"Are you sure?" Being the newest member meant you had the honor of driving others every single time, and you were used to that obligation. Seeing that Fugo could do that instead of you was... a surprise, simply put.

Although you asked such a meaningless question, Fugo found a reason to be annoyed. The violets of his eyes turned a shade darker. "I wouldn't be offering that if I weren't sure."

Sure, having a literal hedgehog of a person by your side wasn't too pleasant. But he was surprisingly easy to read. At the slightest signs of his irritation coming, you would make sure to avoid any future provocations. It wasn't a hard thing to do, not at all.

Fugo had good intentions and if his problems with rage were overlooked, you knew he would be an absolute angel. This time, similarly, he was trying to help. It was something you could only appreciate. So you nodded and responded, as calm as you could get, "Then thank you for being a gentleman. That's very nice of you."

Internally, you weren't as relaxed. What was it that you had just said? You bit your tongue. It sounded so weird, didn't it? But you just wanted to compliment Fugo.

And every time, he'd be positively baffled. He let go of you, his gaze switching its focus back and forth between your hand and your peaceful visage. Lastly, he smiled. Of course he did. "Why, it's nothing! You're welcome!" The way he'd always brighten at your understanding nature, ever so shyly, ever so innocently – it was something that never failed to make your heart flutter.

. . .

When Buccellati said you wouldn't be late, he was absolutely right. The man you were after was in his house and did not move at all. It took you about an hour of waiting to finally see him leave his residence, and hopefully, head to the remainder of the conspirators. But beforehand, you made sure to comfort Fugo about Narancia's cheating; luckily, it worked, and Fugo was quick to thank you.

After you had spotted the target with your stand, marked it on the tiny map on the binoculars, you followed the man's drive all the way to the rural parts of Napoli. Fugo wasn't exactly... the gentlest driver out there. Every now and then (to be exact, every time he would hit the brakes or start accelerating), you were reminded that it would've been way better if you were the one at the steering wheel. Oh well, too late to change that.

The neighborhood you were lead into was in deep neglect, and yet, nature found a way to make it pretty. Rebellious was the grass all around, falling over the sidewalk, and an occasional flower laid here and there to further disarrange the scenery. Trees grew in unorderly batches, not a single straight line to mark a well-planted row. Amongst the green, buildings were a scarce sight, but nothing short of unpleasant. Most were vandalized in one way or another, and the usual warm, prideful architecture in Napoli's center was completely absent in their build. It was almost as if you were in a completely different city.

The good thing about this tracking situation was that you didn't have to see the target's car, you had the map on your stand. Consequently, the target would have no guess that he was being followed. You were far enough not to be noticed.

And once the target slowed down, you knew he was on his feet. You informed Fugo and he, unfortunately, sped up. Dashing through the streets, the two of you quickly reached your target's proximity. That was when you told Fugo to park the car, which he did, albeit sloppily.

You got out of the car and walked to the house inside which the man had gone. You checked once again if the location on your binoculars' map matched the one you were in front of. It did. Your spot on the map was almost the same as that of the marked man's.

"He's in there," you confirmed.

"I'll send in my stand to get this over with," Fugo told you in a hush, "but we'll have to get near."

He walked over to the brick wall, and you followed. He leaned against it, standing by the window, then lifted a hand towards you.

"(Y/N)? Would you please move a little?"

You nodded and backed off. "Your stand?"

He nodded back. Next to him, the long-awaited mystery of a stand emerged. It was an oblique humanoid figure, shrouded in...

"Purple Haze!" Fugo presented his somber stand, and to announce his appearance, Purple Haze groaned. It wasn't only the jarring sound that abandoned his mouth. Through bared teeth and the stitches on his mouth, saliva, yes, so much saliva dripped – down his chin, onto the ground in long slivers. Tethered above was a pair of manic eyes that screamed of bewilderment, and spoke to you with its deadly stare. A sleek visor, curling down like a preying beak, was the only frail filter between you and Purple Haze's aggressive gaze.

The remainder of his attributes were sent into oblivion. You could not redirect your attention. It was wholly, utterly enslaved to this bane's eyes and its low growls. Was this monstrosity the manifestation of Fugo's soul?

One elaborate scene lasting a single instant, no more. That was enough to render you terrified. The very next moment, Fugo had his stand enter the house through the window – he cracked the glass with a high kick and swooped inside, that menace.

Fugo's menace. The mafioso stared back at you, his expression darkened by newfound misery. Your shock must've impacted him, and you knew, he felt bad for petrifying you. He told a lengthy explanation for you to, perhaps, calm down. To console you.

"My stand is capable of releasing a deadly airborne virus. Since our targets are inside with Purple Haze, the virus won't reach us. Everything will be over in no time." Having finished that sentence, Fugo paused – screeches began rising from the house. "So there's no reason to worry. You're safe and sound," he assured, then looked away.

Truth be told, you weren't even scared, rather – intimidated. That's what you had told him to ease him, then sat on the warm curb right at your feet. Yes, this had to be over soon. Judging by the croaking screams, you were positive it wouldn't last long. Otherwise, you'd go insane. It was deeply unnerving to sit idly next to carnage, and not do anything else but take in the death.

But the wails died down, and another sensation would come in. You heard a thump next to you, footsteps nearing – and that frightening gruff hum tagged along. You looked upwards, and saw none other than Fugo's stand. He bore into you with his intense pupils. Their severity could not be handled. Reflexively, you jumped on your feet, staggering backwards, and were about to scream for Fugo when you realized something was happening.

Your brows knitted together, you blinked, once, twice, thrice, unsure if you were seeing this right. Purple Haze ducked and picked a flower from the ground. He lifted it, a gesture meant for you and you only.

"Purple Haze...?" You whispered, not believing your vision a single bit.

Fugo's stand was murmuring incoherent gargles, hand still in the air, delicately holding the plant for you to take it. With his head hung low, the helmet hiding his face, it seemed almost as if he was... ashamed. If it weren't for the stark impression from before, you were certain you'd find this adorable.

And you were about to accept the precious gift when the stand user began yelling.

"Purple Haze! What the hell are you doing?!"

The stand made some guttural sounds, probably out of dissatisfaction, then turned towards his user. You, on the other hand, had to jump to the side because Fugo was yelling right into your ear.

You lifted your both hands, ready to cover your ears. "What's wrong?"

"(Y/N), get away from him. Right now!"

"B-but why?"

His fists balled up. "Just do it!" His sharp order made you flinch.

Strangely, although Fugo had ordered you to move, he got rid of his stand before you made more than a step. The ominous apparition vanished with a sound you could only perceive as sad – and so, the flower it had once held floated down to the ground. A sorrowful sight that trapped your fixation for a second or so. Afterwards, Fugo was heard.

"(Y/N), come here right now, please, just come," Fugo called out. You managed to discern desperation in his plea, but did not understand the excessive worry. It would be right to say you were slightly disturbed by the entire turnabout of events – and so, you quietly complied.

Once you reached him, he did not comment. You two began walking towards your car. He bore a grumpy façade, and likewise, shrouded his surroundings in uncomfortable silence. You debated if breaking it would be a good idea – you were unsure if you did something wrong, but then again, this guy could get stressed about the most minor of details.

As you saw for yourself, he had control over his stand. So why did he get so angry?

"Fugo."

"What?" He almost spat.

"I don't know what happened and why you reacted the way you did, but everything is fine. Nothing bad has happened."

Fugo grumbled in response. "Nothing bad has happened now, that's true. But promise me you will keep your distance from my stand."

"If it unsettles you that much, then no problem, I promise I'll do that." You tilted your head in his direction. The gloom in his expression had not faltered. "What's the deal with Purple Haze? Are you scared you can't control your stand?"

He snorted. "Absolutely not. I can control Purple Haze, but accidents happen, and I can't afford a stupid, preventable accident to cost an entire life. Your life. What if one of the sockets carrying the virus cracked when you took the flower? They're on his knuckles." Fugo lifted a fist. "You could've died then and there."

The gravity of the situation finally presented itself. With a nod and a newly formed lump in your throat, you acknowledged his explanation. You understood that his behavior stemmed from worry – so you couldn't help but feel bad for him, and yourself as well.

The risk was real and you could've succumbed to it. It was through dumb luck that you survived, and you knew that – but Fugo must've felt far worse, for it was him that the death would be blamed on.

"I'm sorry," you finally said, just in case. This surprised him.

"Why?"

Whereas others would continue blabbering or even arguing, inconsiderate in their wake, you were wise enough to stop. Just a little bit of patience did wonders. For you, to think things through – or even, to fasten your hold on the reins of usually wild conversations.

You happened to be one of the rare people willing to reconcile, sort things out peacefully. Compromise was what you were after; Fugo deserved it.

For he was a good person after all. He would eventually overcome his agitation and accept his faults. You knew this, and you knew how much he struggled to do so. Making things easier for him was the least you could do; you cared for him.

"For making you worry. I just didn't understand what was happening at the moment or why I might be in danger."

And it was through your apology that Fugo would find a reason to apologize himself.

"O-oh. It's fine. I... uh..." You heard him heave an aggravated sigh. "Never mind, you shouldn't be apologizing, it wasn't your fault anyway," he mumbled. Tone low paired with a tongue soft, you knew he was gradually calming down. Oddly, it relieved you as well.

Now, to lighten the conversation. Something very relevant. "It's okay. But hey, you have to admit it was super sweet of your stand to give me the flower," you pointed out.

You noticed that Fugo's jaw had clenched before his unconcerned reply. "And weird too. I wonder why he did that." He stopped in his tracks, thus confusing you.

"Something wrong?"

He was looking sideways, to the ground, at the moment you questioned him. Once he heard you, he whipped his head towards you, his eyes wide. "Not really. But give me a moment, please!" Then he stepped aside, to the very edge of the sidewalk, and squatted. You got even more confused.

When he stood up and turned around to face you, in his hand you saw a petite flower, similar to the one Purple Haze had once picked for you. But Fugo went a step further – he bowed, and even exclaimed dramatically:

"I'm sincerely sorry for lashing out on you. Please accept this flower as my humble apology!"

Oh, Fugo. Constantly nervous and so deeply insecure he was, fixing his mistakes and stepping over his rage, with countless of apologies and countless of tremors. His act was that of chivalry, and warmed your heart it did, however, his very own core was left in a qualm.

And the fact saddened you. You tried to joke around to make him laugh, if anything, to brighten his mood.

"Copying Purple Haze? So unoriginal." You rolled your eyes in a playful manner.

But Fugo, that poor boy, he misinterpreted your action. An awkward expression formed on his face as he straightened his back. "Well... you liked it when he did that...? So, uh..." His stammers were horrible to listen to. You had to do something, but what? How to show him that he was appreciated, forgiven? Show him –

You sighed, shook your head lightly. If it meant that you'd have to overstep your boundaries, then so be it.

Fugo's guard was low, so you took advantage of that to dive in for a tight hug. He simply froze – this surprised him vastly, you were certain. You were surprised as well. Purple Haze? That was nothing. Hugging Fugo was dozens of times scarier, or at least that was what your heartbeat rightfully dictated.

Because he was rigid. Unmoving, unsettling – unwelcoming.

The realization crept on you: you miscalculated. You quickly found yourself wanting to move away, doubts and misconceptions landing on your conscience like the worst of sham. It was as if you were rejected – no, no, you were being rejected, by someone who you truly cared for, and somehow, you understood in that regretful moment, by someone you wanted to care about you as well.

Affection, for him? That couldn't work, that would never work. You wanted to strip him off of it, for he could not handle it. That was when you felt him shift, move his arms upwards to – to actually hug you back.

Gentle words reached your ear, healing your hurting soul. "You... um, you smell nice," he complimented quietly. Just like that, a grin overtook your face. One statement, and he erased all of your aches.

You mumbled a thank you. Fugo would assume that it was simply gratitude for his kind words, but you knew its meaning was a lofty one – through this, you believed you realized your feelings towards him. And what once was a hurrying heartbeat that raced with fear, became a gleeful sensation that spread all over your chest.

Fleeting was the embrace, far too long and yet – surely not enough. Once the two of you stepped away from each other, no words were discovered to describe the moment. Fugo held a bashful smile, and you knew he wouldn't speak up first. You noticed a detail more, something that instantly made you chuckle.

"You dropped the poor flower," you told him with a pout.

"I... I had greater priorities other than holding it," he justified himself.

Priorities, he mentioned? Oh, you remembered something very important.

"Speaking of greater priorities, I am driving us back," you informed, placing your hands on your hips. Fugo had no choice but to agree.

Purple Haze was a fitting stand indeed. Misunderstood, just like his user, and undoubtedly a sweetheart.

[bryan360]

My YCCTEAM’s Wireless Switch Pro Controller- Part 15 (Tutorial through Asphalt 9: Legends #2)

I’m back for another YCCTEAM Controller topic post to deliver; though during the last week of August 2021 before next month September that I’ll be doing plans. And could be little problematic while we’re almost in few days left so I’m just go ahead to bring this video recording that I saved from August 17th. Just like from my first Asphalt 9: Legends recording as of my lastest YCCTEAM Controller test, Link Here Now It’ll be a second test that I’ve been going over, but in gyro control settings like lifting your controller up and steering the car instead. It’s been a while after my last gyro controlling test included through part 9.5 while playing through 👻Luigi’s Mansion 3 game months ago. Link Here #2

It was something that I could hope for when I have some games does have gyro and motion control support such as Super Mario Odyssey and the other one I already mention. Looks like now I’ll be doing it again while doing a second driving test in Asphalt 9:Legends’ tutorial mode; in which you probably seen this video recording that I already have. ^^*

Unlike from what I have during my first one, here you can see that I’m picking up my controller to steering cars at the wheel while I’m in gyro control setting. However, I’m still be using some buttons for acceleration, brakes as of steering drifts, and to activate nitro speed boost. Can’t do it without them while during this second tutorial test, huh? Anyways, let’s get into it before we’re almost going into next month of September 2021.

As the video beginning, I may have some missteps a little with the steering when I’m turning my controller on left and accidentally bump into a wall to almost crash against it. It wasn’t my first time when did that as I’m trying to perfect my second driving test with some other videos I got it recorded. However, some of them with my missteps were so close to be perfect. You see, I had trouble doing my gyro control steering sometimes; even if I was being careful not to get bumps while driving through my next tutorial. Despite many times I’ve went, I managed to get this one during 11:30 to 11:39 A.M. It was close enough while it wasn’t perfect, but still close enough as I expected. Anyways onto my tutorial in progress; just like I did my first one, it too was a good one as well. Though different and sometimes getting used to of steering through obstacles, I finding alright while using some buttons to start this car to compared of what I have in manual settings. That being said, I'm more into using my analog sticks or manual settings to keep it going through races in career mode or quick races. Though, I'm not giving up on gyro control settings as it did give me a thumbs up during this tutorial test in recording; despite I needed time on get used to steering with my controller from left to right.

My thoughts:

It's a second time while I'm in the tutorial test through Asphalt 9: Legends, but using the gyro control settings as I picked my controller up was a good result I'll getting. Despite some missteps from the beginning and while during my driving progress, there's something I can have very well in terms of choosing the next time I'll be in next racing course. Not all the time, but it's alright if using it during my break time of practices.

Well that should taking care of, but stay tuned for next month as I'll bringing more of my Asphalt 9: Legends racing videos when doing some real races against opponents. Hopefully that means I can have it as my final parts through my YCCTEAM Controller topic review to finished and I can't wait any longer; though apologies that I've been saving recorded videos from past days until I decided to post them on later dates longer. I was little bit guilty of it, but that's happens to all people, right? Hope you'll guys can enjoy this and I'm promised for next month I'll be bringing more until it'll be the last ones soon. Anyways, see ya! 🙂👍🏼

Previous Posts for my YCCTEAM’s Pro Controller Topic:

Wireless Switch Pro Controller for Nintendo Switch/Switch Lite (Part 1) - Link Here #1

My YCCTEAM’s Wireless Switch Pro Controller for Nintendo Switch/Switch Lite Unboxing (Part 2) - Link Here #2

My YCCTEAM’s Wireless Switch Pro Controller for Nintendo Switch/Switch Lite Comparison with my Xbox One (Part 3) - Link Here #3

My YCCTEAM’s Wireless Switch Pro Controller for Nintendo Switch/Switch Lite Comparison with my Nintendo Switch’s Joy-Cons (Part 4) - Link Here #4

Testing Buttons (Part 5) - Link Here #5

Rumble Feature Testing (Part 6) - Link Here #6

Battery Charging Test (Part 7) - Link Here #7

Playtime Battery Life Results (Part 8) - Link Here #8

Gyro and Motion Controls 1st Half (Part 9) -Link Here #9

Gyro and Motion Controls 2nd Half (Part 9.5) -Link Here #10

Playtime through Super Mario 3D All-Stars game in Super Mario 64 #1 - Link Here #11

Playtime through Super Mario 3D All-Stars game in Super Mario 64 #2 - Link Here #12

Playtime through Super Smash Bros Ultimate #1 - Link Here #13

Playtime through Super Smash Bros Ultimate #2 - Link Here #14

Tutorial through Asphalt 9: Legends #1 - Link Here #15

[dwellordream]

“Do ut des is Latin and it means, “I give, so that you might give.” A working car has many parts, but only one engine: everything else (the wheels, the transmission, the radiator) is there to facilitate the engine, which generates the power. In the same way, a polytheistic ritual has many parts, but only one engine. All of the smaller parts are important – your car will not run long without a radiator or at all without wheels – but it is the engine that provides the power.

This interaction – I give, so that you might give – is the engine of the ritual. Now, I don’t want you to get too wrapped up in the tense of that Latin phrase: the order is fluid. I might promise to give tomorrow if the god gives today (that’s a form of vow), or I might promise to give today if the god gives tomorrow, or I even give today for something the god did for me last week, unasked for, just to make sure we’re square. So my giving and the gods giving, either can be in the past, present or future. The tense is negotiable.

The key here is the concept of exchange. The core of religious practice is thus a sort of bargain, where the human offers or promises something and (hopefully) the god responds in kind, in order to effect a specific outcome on the world.

...This has a few implications: one is that ritual is not taken to no purpose. Pliny the Elder quips that “Of course, sacrifice without prayer is useless” (NH 28.3) in the midst of a truly excellent passage if you want to understand ancient religions (we’ll come back to part of it). What he means is that the sacrifice or ritual doesn’t do any good unless you are clear on what the exchange or bargain is – laying down the terms of contract is what the prayer is for; the prayer is the request, a usage we retain in some old-timey English (as with the word ‘prithee’ short for “I pray thee” meaning “I ask you). There’s no point in setting up the bargain and putting up the down-payment if you don’t specify what it is you want and exactly how you’d like to get it.

Now, within this exchange formula there is one notable quirk: it is up to the god if they accept or reject the offer. We’ll get to all of the ritual aspects in a moment, but they mostly hover around this principle: you do the ritual very carefully because you want to exactly replicate the formulas which had led to the god accepting the bargain in the past. We’ll get to taking omens in a later post, but often the sacrifice itself has a mechanism (like examining the organs of the slain animal in animal sacrifice) to determine if the sacrifice was accepted or not.

Of course, the humans here must have something on offer for this all to work. Appropriate sacrifices and offerings vary significantly from one religious system to the next, although there are some interesting commonalities. Food animals are common sacrifices, typically with some justification that it is mostly the inedible parts of the animal which are reserved to the god, while the edible parts are shared by the worshipers. Objects may also be sacrificed; for instance, Greeks and Romans place weapons (thanks for me surviving the battle!) in temples, while Gauls seem to have deposited them in bodies of water and bogs.

...There is some concern for the place and directionality of the gods in question. Sacrifices for gods that live above are often burnt so that the smoke wafts up to where the gods are (you see this in Greek and Roman practice, as well in Mesopotamian religion, e.g. in Atrahasis, where the gods ‘gather like flies’ about a sacrifice; it seems worth noting that in Temple Judaism, YHWH (generally thought to dwell ‘up’) gets burnt offerings too), while sacrifices to gods in the earth (often gods of death) often go down, through things like libations (a sacrifice of liquid poured out).

There is also concern for the right animals and the time of day. Most gods receive ritual during the day, but there are variations – Roman underworld and childbirth deities (oddly connected) seem to have received sacrifices by night. Different animals might be offered, in accordance with what the god preferred, the scale of the request, and the scale of the god. Big gods, like Jupiter, tend to demand prestige, high value animals (Jupiter’s normal sacrifice in Rome was a white ox). The color of the animal would also matter – in Roman practice, while the gods above typically received white colored victims, the gods below (the di inferi but also the di Manes, who we’ll talk about in a later post) darkly colored animals. That knowledge we talked about was important in knowing what to sacrifice and how.

Now, why do the gods want these things? That differs, religion to religion. In some polytheistic systems, it is made clear that the gods require sacrifice and might be diminished, or even perish, without it. That seems to have been true of Aztec religion, particularly sacrifices to Quetzalcoatl; it is also suggested for Mesopotamian religion in the Atrahasis where the gods become hungry and diminished when they wipe out most of humans and thus most of the sacrifices taking place. Unlike Mesopotamian gods, who can be killed, Greek and Roman gods are truly immortal – no more capable of dying than I am able to spontaneously become a potted plant – but the implication instead is that they enjoy sacrifices, possibly the taste or even simply the honor it brings them (e.g. Homeric Hymn to Demeter 310-315).

We’ll come back to this idea later, but I want to note it here: the thing being sacrificed becomes sacred. That means it doesn’t belong to people anymore, but to the god themselves. That can impose special rules for handling, depositing and storing, since the item in question doesn’t belong to you anymore – you have to be extra-special-careful with things that belong to a god. But I do want to note the basic idea here: gods can own property, including things and even land – the temple belongs not to the city but to the god, for instance. Interestingly, living things, including people can also belong to a god, but that is a topic for a later post. We’re still working on the basics here.

...Ritual in ancient polytheistic religions is typically treated the same way: given an unknowable, but functional system, exactitude is prized over understanding. After all, understanding why the ritual works does not help it work any better – only performing it correctly. An error in performance might offend the god, or create confusion about what effect is desired, or for whom. But an error in understanding causes no problems, so long as the ritual was performed exactly anyway. Just as it doesn’t matter what you think is happening when you, say, turn on your TV – it turns on anyway – it doesn’t matter what you think is happening in the ritual. It happens anyway.

Ritual formulas are thus often very precise about what is desired, for whom, where, when and what exactly is offered in return. ...Now the exact words and actions for the rituals differs, of course, from religion to religion and culture to culture, as does what you do if something might go wrong. For the Romans, an error in the ritual formula, any error – a poorly timed cough from the crowd, a mispronounced word, a blemish on the internal organs of the sacrificial animal – no matter how slight, meant that the ritual had to be started over again from the beginning. With a new sacrifice. Hope you brought a spare.”

- Bret Devereaux, “Practical Polytheism, Part I: Knowledge.”

[thathopelessromantic]

Reckless Good (4/?)

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Fic Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen+ (some implied mature themes)

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku

Note: Thank you all again for being so wonderful <3 And I hope you all can enjoy the extra momojirou content in this chapter

Todoroki Shouto had accepted his fate as a public figure when he became a pro-hero, but there are some parts of his private life he would like to stay private. When he gets invited to be a speaker in a college lecture series, he goes to the meeting with one goal: to give the coordinator a piece of his mind and finally put an end to people hounding him for information about his family.

The last thing he expects is the curious, and quirkless, hero- and quirk-study professor, Midoriya Izuku, who has no interest in his family’s history, and, somehow, even more ties to the hero industry than Shouto. Intrigued by the professor, Shouto tentatively agrees to the lecture series, unknowingly intertwining their futures.

But the more Todoroki sees of Midoriya, the more questions he has. When a villain attack leaves them living together until the culprits are apprehended, maybe he’ll finally get some answers.

AO3: (x) Chapter One: (x) Chapter Two: (x) Chapter Three: (x)

Friday morning does not bring Shouto any more clarity regarding Midoriya’s email or his list. He spent most of the previous night going over the items on the list, trying to come up with answers for the questions and topics included in it, and feeling inexplicably like he was failing some kind of test. Somehow, U.A. did not prepare him for this part of heroics.

Momo gave him very severe instructions to not do anything work related, but in less than a day he grew stir crazy in his apartment with nothing to do but think about the attack from a few days ago and agonize over how little he can apparently say about his own quirk. So he leaves in the morning in his usual half-assed civilian disguise. He’s supposed to have dinner with Momo and Kyouka later that night, but he needs a distraction until then, so hopefully wasting time around town will suffice.

Shouto isn’t sure how, but his wandering brings him to the Musutafu University campus. The sprawling buildings don’t seem quite so confusing this time around, though he barely has any better idea of how to get around. He wanders the campus for a while, observing the students, there seem to be less of them than earlier in the week, and trying to make some better sense of the layout. The area grows a little more familiar as he reaches the building where he met with Midoriya. He didn’t check the schedule the professor gave him before venturing this way, but it’s roughly the same time they met before so he takes a risk and heads up to his office.

The building is quieter than before, echoing the rest of campus emptying for the upcoming weekend. The bulletin board by the door is just as full, however. He takes the stairs up to the third floor to Midoriya’s office. The door, still just as chaotic, covered in posters and stickers and Shouto’s own young face staring up at him is closed and locked, the lights off inside the office. It was a slim chance that the professor would be in his office again at the same time, he supposes, but now that he’s here and Midoriya isn’t, Shouto’s at a loss for what to do or even what he’s doing there. He loiters in front of the door for a few minutes, as if by sheer will he might force it open and the professor to appear, before he wanders down the hall. A few doors down, there’s a wide office space, enclosed by large glass windows, with openings every few feet. The secretary from the other day – Ko-something. Koyama? Kobayashi? – is sitting behind one of the openings at a desk, typing rapidly at a computer.

Shouto debates with himself for a moment before he approaches the window, clearing his throat to get her attention. She turns in surprise at the sound. Her pale lavender hair is still piled high in a complicated bun at the top of her head, but she’s also wearing a pair of thin, half-moon glasses perched just so on her nose for two of her six eyes to be able to see through them.

“Entropy?” She asks, as if not sure she’s seeing him correctly. “Can I help you with something? You didn’t have another meeting with Dr. Midoriya, did you?”

Shouto almost says yes, but he remembers the disapproving look she gave Midoriya after the desk incident and figures he shouldn’t get the professor in any more trouble with his secretary by lying about some forgotten meeting or something.

“Nothing planned. I was just hoping to speak with him again if I could, but it doesn’t look like he’s in his office.”

“No, he wouldn’t be. Dr. Midoriya has a class at this time.”

That grabs his attention. “Really? Where?”

Kobayashi raises a suspicious brow at him, but Shouto will not be deterred.  Kobayashi stares at him for a few more moments before turning back to her computer. She opens a few documents, clicking through pages and charts that flash by too quickly for Shouto to make any sense of. Finding whatever it is she’s looking for, she pulls out a bright purple sticky note and writes out a building and room number for him in neat script.

“That’s where his Friday lecture is. There’s just under an hour left.”

“Thank you.” Shouto takes the sticky note appreciatively.

She waves him off, clearly unimpressed or uninterested or both. He wonders how many times heroes have come to talk to Midoriya that she’s completely unmoved by their presence at the university. Unless she just never cared about heroes at all, which would be an equally interesting pairing as a secretary for the seemingly hero-obsessed professor.

It still takes Shouto longer than he would have liked to find the building she wrote down, but the name sounds vaguely familiar so he’s pretty sure its one he’s passed in his previous wanderings, which helped. The rooms inside the building are all spaced far apart, large lecture halls rather than normal classrooms, and it feels like he has been walking through the halls for ages but only passed three or four doors before he finally finds the room she specified.

The closed door muffles sound surprisingly well, so he has to hope he’s in the right place, and that she didn’t intentionally steer him wrong, as he cracks open the door to peer in. Thankfully, the door he’s come across opens to the back of the lecture hall, so he’s mostly unnoticed as he slips in and hangs against the back wall. The room is surprisingly full for an early morning Friday lecture, and it takes him a moment to find an open seat near the back that doesn’t require him to crawl over any other students.

Midoriya is at the front of the room, his back to the room as he writes across the large white board against the wall. There are already extensive notes made in the same small frantic handwriting Shouto saw in his notebooks, while a video plays on the projector screen besides him. It takes Shouto a few minutes to realize the video is a recording of a villain fight, too distracted following the shifting muscles of the professor’s broad back as he writes across the board and trying to make out the notes without any other context, but once he’s realized what it is that’s playing Shouto finds himself equally as interested in the fight. Based on the costumes, Shouto is fairly certain the hero in the fight is Lemillion, but he’s never seen this particular fight before. He doesn’t recognize the villain he’s fighting and he has absolutely no idea where this shaky footage would have come from.

Midoriya finally turns back to face the room. His sharp green eyes scan over the room, and Shouto can feel the exact moment they land on him, picking him out of the crowd of eager faces and recognizing him as someone or something out of place. Midoriya only hesitates on him for a moment before he continues scanning the room.

“Okay, does anyone else have any observations from the fight?”

A few more hands shoot up around the room. One by one, Midoriya calls on the students, writing up their observations on the video up on the board with the other notes. Once everyone has had a chance to say their part, he steps back and takes a look at the board. There’s barely an open space for more writing as it is, but when Midoriya nods and declares it a “pretty good start” the class only laughs, rather than arguing. Shouto wants to see what Midoriya’s own observations of the fight would be.

“Now,” Midoriya pulls another white board on wheels to the middle of the room, placing it in front of the filled one. “What do we still not know? That our observations alone can’t tell us?”

The pause before people try to answer is considerably longer after his newest question. Finally, someone hesitantly raises a hand to answer. “We still don’t know what the villain’s quirk is. We’ve only seen how it works against Lemillion in this particular fight.”

Midoriya beams at the student. “Right,” He writes the answer on the board. “There’s no guarantee of what we’ve seen here is the extent of their power. We can also only assume at this point how their quirk works or what limitations they might have. What else?”

A few more hesitant hands go up. Midoriya calls on them all, writing up their suggestions as they come, elaborating on many of them as they come in. He calls a few more times for more suggestions but the replies peter out much sooner than their observations. Finally, when no one else raises a hand, Midoriay comes around to the otherwise ignored desk and leans against it to face the room properly.

“No one said anything about the hero.” He points out, calmly. Shouto is surprised that he didn’t realize this fact until it’s called out either.

“But everyone knows what the number one hero’s quirk is,” someone calls from the back. There’s a sound of agreement that goes through the room.

“Do you really?” Midoriya tilts his head to the side, considering. “He’s the permeation hero, right? His quirk is called permeation, but what else do you know about it?”

When no one jumps in with more information, Midoriya calls on someone. “Do you know how Lemillion activates his quirk? Or how he stops using it?”

The student shakes their head nervously. Midoriya smiles kindly, going back to the board and writing that under the last student observation. He calls on someone else in the room. “Is there any part of Lemillion where his quirk doesn’t work?”

The second student doesn’t have an answer either.

“The answer to that is no, actually,” Midoriya informs them. “But just from this fight, we can’t confirm that. So it’s important to note it. Lemillion has an advantage on a lot of opponents because he moves so fast, they can’t keep track of him. If there was some part of his body not affected by his quirk, that could easily be hidden by his quick movements.”

Midoriya writes it on the board too, even though he’s answered his own question. He picks someone else in the room, and it takes Shouto a moment to realize Midoriya is pointing at him.

“Do we know if there is a disadvantage or limit to his quirk that might affect this fight?”

“Any limits or disadvantages Lemillion might have to his quirk will affect every fight he has, though some situations could make those disadvantages worse, or add to his limits.” Shouto answers carefully, thinking back to his own limits and the years of Aizawa drilling it into their heads to be aware of their own limitations in a fight.

A few students turn to look at him as he talks, and he recognizes three girls in the front row from his first time on campus. They recognize him a moment later, hitting each others’ arms and whispering amongst themselves. A few others seem to catch on, but Midoriya doesn’t leave enough time for them to get distracted.

“True,” Midoriya turns back to his white board to add more notes. “Do we know any of those limitations from this fight?”

There are still a few hushed whispers going around the room, and Shouto notices a few students pull out their phones, but the discussion continues mostly the same until the class ends.

Midoriya dismisses the class a few minutes late, but still only about half the class filters out of the room immediately. The rest gather at the front of the room, surrounding their professor and peppering him with more questions about the lesson and homework and just general hero related questions, at least so far as Shouto can figure from what he overhears. Shouto stays mostly hidden in the back of the room until all the students have actually made their way out of the classroom, though a few brave students stop to say something or ask for an autograph. It’s nice to see how they flock to the professor with something almost akin to hero-worship. The three girls from earlier in the week wave goodbye to him as they leave.

Midoriya starts to clean up as Shouto comes down the stairs to join him at the front of the room.

“So what did they miss?”

Midoriya freezes, glancing up at him as if he had forgotten Shouto was still there.

“What?”

“In the analysis of the fight. What’s something they missed?”

Midoriya glances back at the projector screen where the paused video is still visible. “There’s a crack in the far corner of the room.” Shouto follows the professor’s hand to the ceiling in the video where he can see the faint lines of the concrete breaking. “It’s not structurally sound any more, so Lemillion can’t phase through it safely. But if he can shake the building enough for it actually crumble while he’s got the villain in that corner, the destruction could do some serious damage to his opponent that he could avoid by using his quirk. A lot of this fight was dragged out by the two of them trying to corner each other there, each aware of the other’s weakness.”

Shouto tries to remember what he saw of the movement of the fight and align it to what the professor is saying.

“And how many times have you analyzed this particular fight?”

Midoriya laughs. “Just once, in class today. And I watched it before to make sure there wasn’t anything too revealing about either hero or villain, or too graphic to show students, so maybe one and a half times. But I always like to show them new fights. I catch a lot, but there are always students who surprise me and catch things I haven’t thought about. I’ll go home and actually analyze it later though.”

Midoriya finishes closing down the programs and restarting the computer. He takes a picture of the notes on both of the boards before he begins to erase them. Shouto grabs an eraser to help him clear off the boards.

“I was surprised to see you here,” Midoriya says. “I didn’t realize you attended the open lectures here.”

“I don’t.” Shouto shrugs, putting down the eraser. “I was actually just hoping to talk to you again.”

“Me?” Midoriya asks, seeming genuinely surprised, as if there was anyone else around for Shouto to talk to at this moment. “What for?”

“Your lecture series,” Shouto says easily, though he doesn’t think he really had an answer to that question right up until he answered. “I got your list of topics last night.”

“Was there anything wrong with it?”

“No. There was a lot on there I hadn’t even considered. After reading that I’m not sure how much I can even tell you about my quirk.”

Midoriya laughs, though he immediately covers his mouth to smother the sound when Shouto turns to look at him. “Sorry. Entropy-”

“Todoroki.” Shouto interrupts.

Midoriya’s eyes widen and he blinks in surprise. “What?”

“Just call me Todoroki. I’m not working.”

Midoriya looks like he wants to argue with him, but after a moment he nods hesitantly. “T-Todoroki, I’m sure you know more about your quirk than you think. You’re just not used to thinking of it in those terms.”

Shouto shrugs. “Maybe.” He hands off the eraser to Midoriya and the professor cleans them both off before placing them back where they belong.

Midoriya shakes his head. “I’m sure of it. But if you would feel more comfortable talking about it some more, we can. I have to take some of this back to my office, but I’m done with classes for the day after that.”

“Should we talk over lunch?”

Midoriya almost drops the papers he’s gathering. “L-lunch?”

“Sure, it’s just after noon. Lunch.”

Midoriya recovers from whatever shock he seemed to experience, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair and shoving the rest of his things in the same leather bag he had the other day. “Right. Lunchtime. Sure.”

Shouto considers the professor as they make their way out of the room and back towards his office. He’s not sure what exactly about his suggestion of lunch threw the professor off so much, and he doesn’t seem inclined to let Shouto understand either.

Midoriya’s office looks roughly the same as Shouto remembered his first time visiting, though the desk in the middle is considerably less decorated than the first one. He recognizes some of the posters however.

“You’ve started redecorating.” He observes.

“Hm?” Midoriya looks around before he follows Shouto’s gaze to the desk. The lighting is still rather dim in the office, but Shouto swears Midoriya is blushing as he turns away. “Oh yes. Well, with what I could salvage before they got rid of the old desk. I’ll have to get more though, some things were ripped and can’t really go back up. And most of the stickers were just completely lost.”

“You seem to care about this stuff,” Shouto says, looking around the room. “Why put it somewhere when there’s a risk of it being destroyed like that?”

Midoriya sighs, running a hand over the corner of the desk. “After the first time I lost some posters to an…accident,” he says the word carefully as if he expects Shouto to call him out on what happened, or suggest it was anything besides an accident. “I tried not putting them up. But it was just too empty after that. And these things are meant to be hung and admired. I’d rather get some use out of it.” He points to one of posters of an old hero Shouto recognizes but can’t remember the name of. “And some of them, like this one, are gifts from students. I want them to know I appreciate the gifts they give me.”

Midoriya turns away, putting the papers away in his filing cabinet before he goes behind the desk and grabs a few of the notebooks from the bottom shelves, tucking them away in his bag. He turns back to Shouto with an almost nervous looking smile. “So, lunch?”

 They end up at Sato’s bakery, a short subway ride away from campus in the small café area he has in the back. Shouto already had to come this way to pick up the deserts he promised to Kyouka, and Midoriya assured him he was a fan of the food. Admittedly, Shouto had never tried anything off the lunch menu they offered, but he didn’t mind following Midoriya’s suggestions.

The café is painted in the same warm yellows and pinks of the bakery up front, but the walls are decorated with more pictures of food and serene naturescapes, rather than the class pictures and signed hero posters that adorned the bakery walls for those hero fans visiting just because it is Sugarman’s business.

A waitress who greets Midoriya by name comes by to take their order, though she spends half the time at their table chatting with the professor about a visit they got last week from Chargebolt, Pinky, and Cellophane that ended in a near-stampede of fans and Sato had to close early when they sold out of everything before noon.

“At least Sato’s classmates are good for business,” Midoriya says with a laugh as the waitress finishes her story.

She rolls her eyes and waves him off, though she smiles as she does it. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess. I’ll get those orders in for you guys right away.”

“You’re friends with Sato, too?” Shouto asks once they are alone again.

Midoriya wears the same deer-in-the-headlights look as when Shouto suggested lunch. “What? What do you mean ‘too’?”

“I’m fairly certain the first day we met Shinso was also coming to meet with you, you’re…very close with the hero doctor, Aizawa, and Sunspot told me after you took me to the hospital, one of Ingenium’s ‘friends’ had him escort her back to our office. That’s at least three pros.”

“I could have just been meeting with Shinso for the lecture series, same as you. Does that make us friends?”

Shout ignores the question. “There’s no way you would ask Shinso to be a part of the lecture series. You know too much about heroes to think an underground hero would participate in something so public. That also still doesn’t explain the other two. Two pro-hero friends is still more than most civilians would claim.”

Midoriya scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Well I’m not exactly a normal civilian. My work at the university and the hospital leads to me crossing paths with heroes pretty regularly. Eventually, we became friendly.”

Shouto remembers the proud disbelief of Shinso when they ran into each other the other day, and the protective way Dr. Aizawa talked about Midoriya, fielding Shouto’s questions, and thinks this picture of casual friendships of convenience he’s trying to portray is utter bullshit.

“So Sato’s the same? You just cross paths a lot?”

Midoriya looks even more embarrassed, shifting in his chair. “I guess. I don’t think we could really be considered friends, I just frequent the café and talk heroics with Sato when he’s in at the same time. We’re familiar with each other is all.”

Shouto doesn’t really believe the brush off of their relationship anymore than he did of the first three, but he lets it go for now.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Shouto trying to figure out something about the professor sitting across from him, and Midoriya looking like he would like more than anything to disappear from the café. The same waitress delivers their food, dropping off an extra pastry neither of them ordered.

“Compliments of the owner,” she says to Midoriya with a wink.

Midoriya sinks further in his chair at Shouto’s arched look.

“Can we just talk about the list?” He asks.

Mercifully, Shouto pulls out his phone to look at the list again while they eat.

Once off the topic of Midoriya’s various pro-hero friends, he starts to open up again, elaborating on the different suggestions he had for the lecture series. He listens to Shouto’s questions carefully, considering each answer he gives as if Shouto is asking for answers about the truth of the universe and not just his own damn quirk. Most of the time he answers off the cuff, but occasionally Midoriya pulls out one of his notebooks and considers something scribbled in them before giving a definitive answer. Shouto sort of wonders how he finds anything among all the hectic writing.

They talk so long the waitress brings them both another dessert and drink, and so long after that the café lunch hours eventually end. Other than the occasional customer grabbing something from the bakery and the handful of employees left, they are the only ones still in the store.

Eventually the waitress herds them out of the café into the still-open bakery lobby. Midoriya apologizes at least a half dozen times, but she only waves him off with nothing more than a fond, exasperated look. They’re left alone in the bakery, save for the cashier who sends them a knowing look as they’re booted out of the café.

“I’m sorry,” Midoriya says with a short bow. “I should have known to go somewhere with longer hours when we were talking about quirks.”

Shouto doesn’t think he’s ever had something he cared enough about so strongly that he would need to plan extra time out for it, but he’s fascinated, and inexplicably, charmed by it. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. I needed to come by Sato’s anyways.” Midoriya relaxes besides him, a relieved smile passing over his features.

Shouto turns away before he stares too long, asking the cashier for the order he had called in the day before. Midoriya drifts away to look over the display case while they wait for the cashier to grab Shouto’s order from the back. She returns, opening the box so that he can confirm the order is correct.

“You didn’t strike me as having such a big sweet tooth,” Midoriya comments as she rings Shouto up.

“I don’t. It’s for Kyouka.” Shouto replies easily. He watches Midoriya’s face, can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to figure out who Shouto is talking about.

“Earphone Jack?” Midoriya finally guesses. “I didn’t really expect her to have such a big sweet tooth, either.”

Shouto shrugs. He had never really put much thought into it. He just knew Kyouka was almost as in love with Sato’s chocolate cake as she was with Momo. Though he doubts either of them would appreciate that comparison.

After Shouto is finished, Midoriya asks for a few things from behind the counter as well. Many of the selections have run out completely this late in the day, and a few options have only one or two items still left, but Midoriya still takes a while to make a decision, deliberating carefully over the limited selection.

He shoots Shouto another apologetic look as the cashier rings up his items. “I always get something for my mother when I visit Sato’s. She likes to try new things, but I think I’m finally running out of new options for her to try.”

Shouto nods his understanding, waving off Midoriya’s unspoken apology. He wonders if he should bring some of Sato's treats to his own mother the next time he visits. He usually brought her flowers, but she might like a small cake for a change.

The two leave the bakery and head back towards the subway. Midoriya easily fills the silence while they walk with more talk about quirks, quickly derailing his own train of thought part way through into a discussion of local heroes. Shouto gives a nod or makes a sound of acknowledgement where it seems appropriate, content to let Midoriya talk and absorb the barrage of information the professor seems to be overflowing with. He thinks it’s all going rather well until they reach the subway station entrance, and Midoriya stops in his tracks.

Shouto looks back in concern as the professor smacks himself in the forehead. His bag of pastries swings wildly for a moment, precariously close to smacking him in the face as well.

“Are you alright?”

“I just talked your ear off the entire walk, I’m so sorry. I’m sure you didn’t need to hear any of that. And what if you had more questions? I-”

“I didn’t mind,” Shouto interrupts. “Even if I didn’t ‘need’ to hear any of it. It was interesting.”

Midoriya lowers his hand and stares at him apprehensively. “You’re not just saying that just to be polite?”

“I never say things just to be polite.” Shouto says honestly.

Midoriya laughs, though Shouto isn’t sure exactly what about his statement warranted laughter, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. “No, I guess you don’t seem the type to do that.”

Not sure how to reply to that, Shouto looks away. The timetable inside the station shows the next train should be arriving in a few minutes. They stand in silence for a moment before Shouto clears his throat.

“Thank you for taking the time to talk to me,” Shouto says at the exact same time Midoriya blurts out: “Would you like my phone number?”

They stare at each other for a moment, but Midoriya reacts first with a small wince. “I mean, you’re welcome. It wasn’t any trouble. Obviously I like to talk about the subject.”

“Your phone number?” Shouto asks, wondering if he somehow misheard.

Midoriya sighs. “I was just thinking it might be easier, than tracking me down in person, if you had any other questions. Or I guess it could just be easier to track me down in person again, too. If you could text or call. You don’t have to obviously, I know a hero’s personal number is important and private, for a reason. Which is why I offered just to give you mine. And if you did use it, I would never abuse-“

“How many personal numbers for pro-heroes do you know?”

Midoriya blinks in surprise a few times, startled. “I can’t tell you that. Wait, no. I mean-”

“I trust you.” Shouto pulls out his cell phone, passing it over to the still-dazed professor.

Midoriya takes it, but just stares down at the cell without moving.

“So you can put your contact information in,” Shouto reminds him carefully, as if he somehow forgot what a phone was in the midst of their conversation.

Midoriya moves again, finally, if only to give Shouto another disbelieving look. “I think you trust people too easily, Todoroki.”

“You suggested it.”

Despite appearing like he still wanted to argue the matter, Midoriya looks away from Shouto to open his phone and add his contact information. Shouto briefly worries there’s something embarrassing for him to come across as he unlocks the phone, before he remembers the last time Kyouka went through his phone and deemed it “utterly boring” while complaining about the lack of “potential blackmail material,” which he figures means it’s probably safe enough.

Midoriya returns his cell to him, just as the train begins to pull up to the station. Shouto hesitates getting on the train. He has no real reason to keep Midoriya for any longer, but he feels oddly reluctant to leave his company just yet. They stare at each other for a few moments in silence, as if waiting for the other to say something, but Shouto was never good at finding the right thing to say, and he was rapidly running out of time for Midoriya to say something if he wanted to catch this train.

“Thank you,” Midoriya finally blurts out. “For considering being a part of the Hero Talks series. Even if you ultimately decide not to join, I appreciate the consideration. And the opportunity to talk to you about your quirk.”

“Thanks for…wanting to talk about my quirk.”

Shouto steps through the subway doors. He turns just as they start to pull out of the station, and Midoriya is still standing there with a bemused smile on his face.

 X

Kyouka opens the door in leggings and a shirt Shouto is almost positive is Momo’s.

“You’re early.” She says as greeting, though it sounds more like an accusation.

Shouto holds up his package from the bakery. “I have cake.”

Appeased, she lets him into the house without any other complaint. Shouto slips off his shoes and follows her down the familiar entrance way towards the kitchen. Momo is standing over the stove stirring something. Her long hair is down for once, but she keeps brushing it out of her face with the back of her hand as she watches the pot intensely.

Shouto leans closer to Kyouka to whisper. “You’re letting her cook?”

“She wanted to try a new recipe.” Kyouka hisses back, elbowing him in the side. “Shut up.” She glances at him. “I was planning to order pizzas in like an hour.”

Shouto nods, satisfied with her answer. Kyouka rolls her eyes. Dropping the cake box on the counter, she abandons him in the doorway to join Momo at the stove. Momo jumps slightly as Kyouka touches her side, but she relaxes easily, smiling softly as Kyouka gathers her hair and pulls it back into a loose ponytail for her.

“Thank you,” Momo says quietly.

Kyouka stands on her tiptoes to kiss her cheek before she steps away. “Shouto’s here.”

“Oh!” Momo jumps again as she finally sees him in the door way. She blushes, as if embarrassed by their behavior, as if Shouto hasn’t been witness to their relationship since high school. “Shouto, hello. You’re early.”

Shouto shrugs. “I was in the neighborhood. I couldn’t keep sitting in my house.”

Momo makes a face. “I’m sorry. But it’s for your own good. You need to rest.”

“But I’m not even injured any more,” Shouto argues. “And I-”

Kyouka shoves a plate with a small slice of cake on it into his hands. “Eat this and stop arguing with her.”

Shouto doesn’t know how she moves so quick.

She goes to sit at the kitchen table with a plate of her own, a much larger slice of cake on her plate. Shouto joins her, if for nothing else to stop standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Kyouka.” Momo scolds. “Before dinner? You need to eat something with more substance.”

“I need the sugar. Get my energy back up.” Kyouka says with a sly wink as she slides the first bite into her mouth.

Momo’s blush returns with a vengeance. “Kyouka! I-”

“You should probably eat some too,” Kyouka continues with a satisfied smile. “Don’t want you to be too worn out after our pre-dinner exercise.”

“Should I leave?” Shouto asks, interrupting their not-so-subtle flirting.

“No.” Momo says at the same time Kyouka says “Yes.”

They stare at each other for a few moments, having some kind of silent conversation. Kyouka gives in first with a dramatic sigh.

“Just eat your cake, Todoroki.”

Eventually, Momo decides whatever she is making can be left unsupervised and comes to join them at the table. She did, despite her arguments, take a piece of cake for herself, though it is significantly smaller than Kyouka’s slice. They talk about work, fill Shouto in on what he’s missed recently at the agency or from their old classmates and the cases they’ve been on. It fills the time and they lose track of themselves in the conversation.

Until Shouto notices something off.

“Is something burning?”

Momo shoots out of her chair, almost knocking it over in her rush, and darts over to the stove. Kyouka follows only a moment behind. Shouto turns to watch them turn off the burner and peek into the forgotten pot. The smell of something burning gets stronger. Momo drops her head in defeat.

“Not again.”

Kyouka rubs her back comfortingly with one hand, and pulls out her phone with the other. “How’s pizza sound?”

Momo nods in reluctant agreement, but doesn’t move from her slumped position.

Shouto clears the table of their empty plates while they’re distracted. He takes them to the sink, washing them off quickly and ignoring Momo’s half-hearted protests that he doesn’t need to clean up after them.

“Pizza will be here in twenty minutes.” Kyouka declares, interrupting Momo. “Let’s go sit in the living room until then, okay? Let this place air out a little.”

Shouto takes the hint and opens the window over the sink.

Kyouka nods her thanks to him before she ushers Momo out of the kitchen. Shouto starts to follow them, before he sees the cake box still open on the counter. He stops to close it, but hesitates. It seems a little impulsive, definitely silly and unnecessary, but he snaps a quick picture of the cake before he closes up the box.

He scrolls through his, limited, contacts until he finds the new listing. Midoriya Izuku. He drafts a new message to him with the picture attached.

kyouka couldnt wait until after dinner so it was our appetizer

Shouto sends the message before he can second guess himself, and leaves the kitchen. It’s just an easy way to make sure the professor gets his number is all, since they didn’t actually exchange them. Nothing weird about it.

Kyouka and Momo have already made themselves comfortable on the couch, though they’ve left room for him on the opposite end. Just as he sits down with them, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He just barely resists the urge to grab it immediately.

“Movie?” Kyouka suggests. “Or the same show we were watching from last time?”

“We could watch an episode before the pizza gets here,” Shouto answers, though he can’t clearly remember what it even was that they watched the last time he was over. “Change it after if we want to.”

Momo agrees easily, obviously still thinking more about her cooking disaster than what they’re putting on for entertainment, so Kyouka starts up the new episode. Shouto waits for the opening to finish before he slides his phone out of his pocket, ever so discreetly. Kyouka and Momo already seem more invested in each other than him or the TV show, so he deems it safe and unlocks his phone.

There’s one new message from Midoriya.

‘Our appetizer’? I thought you didn’t have a sweet tooth.

Shouto replies right away, before he can second guess his reply or his eagerness to reply. i can indulge sometimes

A moment later Midoriya replies again, this time with an attachment. It’s a picture of one of the pastries he purchased on a small plate. He’s at a table with someone, part of their profile in the picture alongside the treat. Shouto can’t make out much except for a pink shirt and dark hair the exact same shade as Midoriya’s.

The text below it reads, Mom and I couldn’t wait either.

Shouto smiles, unbidden, before he locks his phone and shoves it back into his pocket. Kyouka and Momo still seem distracted, but he forces himself to focus on the television. They’d never let it go if they caught him smiling at his phone of all things. And he has a feeling they’ll probably want a recap of what’s been happening, so he’d better have some idea of what the episode was actually about.

They get through most of the episode before the pizza gets there and then three more as they eat, giving up switching to a movie. But if Shouto’s being completely honest, not that he would be if asked, he has only a vague idea of what happened in any of the episodes. He did, however, draft three potential new texts in his head to send Midoriya later.

[my-imagines-moonlight53]

Red Tallies || Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: This AU is based on an idea from an old prompt in which people have tally marks to represent how many times they have fallen in love. Peter has fallen in love a couple times, but never been loved back. Peter is college age, would say around 21-23, and so is reader and company.

Author’s Note: This has honestly been something that I’ve been wanting to write for a while, and finally found the time to sit down and write it. Though still testing the waters, so please let me know. Would most likely try to be a slow burn, like definitely be more than four parts.

Word Count: 2K

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

“Ned, I told you, she isn’t in love with me,” Peter repeated for the eighth time in this same phone conversation, but that didn’t mean that it hurt any less.

“Are you sure? I mean it could just take a while for hers to show up soon?”

“Ned, I really don’t want to say this but she did have a red mark, but it wasn’t for me,” he finally caved and explained the one fact he has kept thus far, “I didn’t think she would pull something like this, that’s why she can’t love me…because she loves someone else,” he sighed almost feeling the tally mark was burning his skin.

“Oh, I’m sorry dude,” he said after a long pause.

“I know but it’s not something you should apologize for,” he sighed, trying not to remember the events that occurred that morning.

“You can always come with me and Betty to the movies tonight, we can invite a few more people so you don’t feel like third wheel,” wanting to switch topics to hopefully cheer his friend up.

Peter knew that his friend was really trying to help but he really couldn’t think of leaving his apartment. He really needed to process the whole situation rather than distract himself from it, because he knew when he was alone, he would feel this low again. He looked down at his wrist seeing nothing but black tallies on his wrist, and let out a long sigh.

“Pete, you still there?” pulling him out from his thoughts.

“Yea just thinking about the offer,” even though he already knew that he had the answer.

“How about you think about it and let me know. I don’t want you to feel pressured,” always the supportive friend. “I would cancel on Betty but…“

“Thanks Ned,  don’t think Betty deserves that,” smiling knowing that Ned will always be his ride or die. “Think I’m a sit this one out,” his eyes still focused on his wrist.

“Offer will stands till seven, but if not, I’ll stop by tomorrow with food and can talk about it,” wanting Peter to know that he’ll be there through thick and thin.

“Yea tomorrow would be nice, I’ll text you if anything happens,” affirming that he wasn’t going out tonight, “have a great date Ned.”

“Thanks Pete. Hope to see you soon then,” he said.

Both said their goodbyes, leaving Peter  to let out a long groan of frustration. The palms of his hands pressed against his eyes hoping to keep the tears in that he kept in the whole day. Another black tally mark etched on his skin, great another failed attempted at love.

It was at times like these that wished he never learned about the tally marks, but it’s something unavoidable. He remembers days in which his Aunt May would sit down and talk to him about the tally marks that would one day appear across his wrist and tried to do her best to explain it.

“Alright Peter, so one when you find someone you really love, you’ll one day see a black tally appear right here,” pointing out her own single red tally on her wrist.

“But yours is red,” child Peter pointing out the obvious.

“I know, but if the person you love, loves you back, then it will turn red. Just like mine, yours can start off black, only depending who falls for who first. I can tell you first hand that mine showed up a month before your Aunt May’s did,” puling Peter’s attention from his aunt to his see his uncle setting down his stuff. Ben walked over to the two ruffling Peter’s hair to distract him from giving May a quick kiss.

“Hey it’s not my fault that you fell in love sooner than I did,” she joked.

“Uh, yea it is, you didn’t make it easy for me,” he smiled, “So what is this tally mark talk about?”

“Just curious,” Peter responded, “besides our teacher was going to go over it soon and wanted a head start.”

Peter smiled his tears gaining a bittersweet taste to them but figured that he may as well let out any tears at this moment. He looked at his wrist, nothing but black tallies and he would be lying to himself if he said that it didn’t hurt him. He really didn’t get the idea of what was so difficult about loving him, but then again, it’s not like he can force someone to love him. But still he just felt like a below the belt when he saw his now ex-girlfriend, if she even considered herself that, sport a red tally that clearly wasn’t his. Peter let out a loud sigh, thinking it was just to just scour his social media and start to unfollow her but couldn’t force himself to delete old pictures of themselves.

Just a few moments later and Peter heard a large crash outside his door. Peter quickly got up and walked over to the door hearing already someone cussing from the other end.

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

You didn’t know whether to be mad at the carpet lining the floor or yourself for thinking it was a good idea to carry more than you actually could  because you really took a dive just now.  You were glad that the boxes you decided to carry were filled with things that wouldn’t break, but you couldn’t help the burn on your cheeks from embarrassment and hope that no one saw your fall.

You started to stack a few things to try to somewhat organize things, and decided now was a good time as any to open your door. You decided to take a few things with you hoping to prevent anyone from seeing your mishap. By the time you went back to your stuff, someone was already organizing your fallen mess.

“Hey, sorry about the mess in front of your door, just give me a couple minutes and it’ll be totally clear,” walking over to said mess.

“it’s no worry at all,” seeing the stranger get up and face you.

Your heart jumped to your chest seeing the face that although you have forgotten about over time, you could never truly forget. “Peter?” knowing full well that there was no doubt about it.

“uh do I know you?” his face really confused because he really couldn’t place your face to a name.

“It’s been a while, but remember me from middle school,” trying not to act like you weren’t even more embarrassed then just a moment before.

You could visually see his mind thinking back to middle school, and finally put the pieces together, “(Y/N)! Oh god, I’m sorry I didn’t remember, trust me have a few things on my mind,” and although you haven’t seen peter in years, you figured he still was the same bashful boy you hadn’t seen in years.

“no worries, I mean what are the odds, that your old middle school friend moves down the hall much less spill most of her stuff in front of your door,” trying not to  make anything more uncomfortable.

“yea guess so,” already sensing things slowly ease, “So you took over the empty loft, I think I heard about someone filling that room,” quickly picking up a few boxes, “ how about I help you out.”

Judging by him carrying boxes you knew that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, “sure guess we can catch up, plus definitely need the extra set of hands,” you said.

You didn’t know what it was about Peter but he really had a way to become instant friends with just about anyone that he met. You really were glad that he still was the same as the Peter you left behind at the end of middle school. It was almost easy being with Peter that it almost made it seem like you guys hadn’t seen each other in years but can already tell that moving in here was a great choice. You found out that he was still friends with Ned and kept in touch with Michelle, which he was already mentioning that he couldn’t wait to tell the others.  you really were glad that he already wanted to plan things out with you.

You would be lying to yourself if you couldn’t deny that although you could recognize Peter, he really had matured into someone very attractive, especially by your standards. The once round cheeks chiseled out into strong edges, small chucky arms and hands became defined and strong by the easiness that he carried large boxes. however, some traits didn’t change at all, his doe brown eyes still had the same glee and his smile still captured the room, at least it did in your opinion. But now with this stance and physique, he really could capture the room.

“So, you moving in all by yourself?” Peter asked bringing in heavier objects. You

“ Yea, just me though if its gets too pricey may ask one of my friends to move in with me,” you replied already seeing that more than half of your stuff was already moved in thanks to Peter’s help, “pretty sure she will like the space as well.”

You looked over at Peter seeing that he was staring at his phone, his default cheery attitude replaced by a saddened look.

“Peter, you alright buddy?”.

“Uh yea, just some,” not knowing the right words to say, or better yet not know the right words that didn’t make him want to cry again.

“Girl trouble,” you finished, doubting someone like him couldn’t be with anyone or have someone he’s interest in.

“Um, something like that,” figured that he didn’t know how to phrase it.

“You don’t have to talk about it, I mean we technically just met,” not wanting to push his limits, because you figured that he would tell you just to be nice.

“It’s not that, I just don’t want one of our few first conversations to be about how my girlfriend got a red tally,”  the words sounding so sour, “my bad I think I don’t think she was my girlfriend to begin with.”

“Red tally, then isn’t that a good thing?” not really understanding the problem.

“Yeah her and whoever she’s interested in, but definitely not for me,” lifting the side of his wrist and showing his black tallies., “just figured she’d be the first you know,” he said melancholy as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Hey her loss and their loss too, because I can already tell you that you have already been one of my better random male encounters in a while,” trying to cheer him up, though you figured you were failing at it.

Peter let out a small chuckle, “very funny but think I’m going to head out. Ned's meeting me tomorrow for food, you’re more than welcomed to come,” he said trying to switch to lighter topics, “I’ll knock, see if you’re free ok”

“yea, sounds like a plan and really thanks for the help couldn’t do it without you.”

Peter said a small goodbye and walked out leaving you to finally press your hand against your chest. Your heart was racing, you knew that of course spending time with someone attractive like Peter was going to make you react but it was more. You knew that although you were glad to have met up with peter, but you weren’t sure if it was such a good idea in the long run. You finally decided to look down on your wrist, your eyes locking on your first tally mark. Your fingers traced over the black tally, knowing full well that the person who this tally represents is none other than your new neighbor, Peter Parker.

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

End Author’s Note: So that was part 1, please let me know how it is. Still in debate if i should include peter being Spiderman, that is the other main opinion I would want, since I am really on the fence. Once again this is planned out to be a somewhat slowburn.

[hopelikethemoon]

The Exam (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: The Exam Rating: PG-13 Length: 1800 Warnings: Medical procedures (female physical examine, mentions of procuedures related to reproductive health) and discusions of miscarriages, infertility, and other topics related to conception and pregnancy.  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in July 1996. I learned something new about Reader today. So that was cool. Summary: Reader goes to the OB/GYN for an exam. 

@grapemama​​​​ @seawhisperer​​​​ @huliabitch​​​​ @beccaplaying​​​​ @thewallpapergoesorido​​​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​​​ @gooddaykate​​​ @livasaurasrex​​​​ @ham4arrow​​​​ @plexflexico​​​​ @readsalot73​​​​ @hdlynn​​​​ @lokiaddicted​​​​ @randomness501​​​​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​​​  @roxypeanut​​​​ @snivellusim​​​​ @lukesrighthand​​​​ @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​​​​ @awesomefandomsunited​​​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​​​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​​​​ @ah-callie​​​​ @swhiskeys​​​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​​​ @u-wakatoshii​​ @space-floozy​​​​ @cable-kenobi​​​​ @cool-ultra-nerd​ @himbopoes​​​​ @findhimfives​​​​ @pedrosdoll​​​​ @frietiemeloen​​​​ @arrowswithwifi​​​​  @cinewhore​​​​ @random066​​​​ @uncomicalhumour​​​​ @heather-lynn​​​​ @domino-oh-damn​​​​ @cyarikaaa​​​​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​​​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​​​​ @yabby-girl​​​​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​​​ @punkass-potato​​​​ @coredrive​​​​ @pascalesque​​​​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​​​​ @queenquazar​​​​ @sabinemorans​​​​ @buckstaposition​ @holkaskrosnou​ @yespolkadotkitty​​​​@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie​​​​ @jaime1110​​​​ @katlikeme​

You chewed at a hangnail on your thumb as you perched on the edge of the exam table, looking between Javier and the door. “You know, I ran out of a doctor’s office in a hospital gown once.”

Javier’s brows rose upwards as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest, “That sounds like a story I haven’t been told before.”

“Oh, the stories I could tell.” You laughed, though it didn’t quite reach your expression. “My mother was being… her usual self. I got fed up with her bullshit and decided to peace out. In the hospital gown.”

He snorted, “Somehow I can see you doing that.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth as his eyes wandered around the room. 

The walls were covered with anatomical posters of uteruses and Fallopian tubes; gleefully pregnant women and their partners. You watched the way Javier’s face sobered — and you wondered if he was thinking what you were thinking. 

A quick knock gave you a moment’s notice before the doctor and a nurse stepped into the room. 

“I do apologize for the delay,” the doctor remarked as she introduced herself to the both of you. “We had a mother going into labor during her exam. Never a dull moment.”

“Lucky her.” You offered wryly, brushing your hands over your lap, straightening out the hospital gown. 

“Indeed.” The doctor chuckled as she washed her hands, before slipping on a pair of gloves. “Mr. Peña, you’re welcome to wait in the waiting room while we exa—“

“I’d prefer it if he stayed.” You interjected with a shake of your head. 

Javier scratched at his jaw, “I don’t want to be in the way.”

“We’re in this together.” You reminded him, before looking towards the doctor. “There’s nothing we’ll discuss that I won’t tell him later.”

“It’s nice to see a supportive partner,” The doctor remarked with a smile. “If you don’t mind laying back, I’m going to begin the exam while I ask you a few questions.”

Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you laid back on the table, the paper crinkling beneath you as the doctor loomed over you. 

“How long have you been trying?”

“Two months.” You answered as the doctor examined your breasts, before moving towards your stomach. “But we’ve never really used protection outside of birth control.”

“And you’ve been pregnant before?”

“We have a daughter.”

“Any history of miscarriages?”

You nodded slightly, “When I was fifteen. I didn’t even know until I went to the hospital.” You tilted your head, your eyes meeting Javier’s. There was nothing but compassion in his gaze. 

The doctor’s fingers pressed into the soft flesh of your stomach as the examination continued. “Any history of sexually transmitted diseases?”

“We’ve both been tested over the years. We’re clean.” You winced a little as she pressed down hard on a spot. 

“Is that tender?”

“Yeah,” You shifted under her touch. “But I’ve got a bruise there.”

The doctor’s brows rose upwards skeptically.

“We’ve taken the trying very seriously.” You admitted with an awkward laugh, “Javi, do you have that chart?”

“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ as he passed the piece of paper to the nurse, who handed it to the doctor. 

She bummed curiously as she reviewed the past two months. You’d charted out the last day of your birth control, your period, temperature changes, and indicated the days and times of intercourse. If you were thorough in your professional work, you’d gone thoroughly overboard in your pregnancy planning. 

“Now that we’ve completed the external examination, I’m going to do an internal and external ultrasound. Just to ensure that everything looks normal and healthy.” She looked towards Javier then. “I usually recommend that the male partner be tested as well. It’s a simple procedure to check semen count.” 

Javier shifted uncomfortably, “I read the leaflet.”

The nurse stepped out of the room and returned a moment later with a cart that held the ultrasound machine. 

“Did you have any complications during your first pregnancy?” The doctor questioned you. 

“Our daughter wasn’t planned.” You admitted. “Birth control, but no other protection. Easy pregnancy, aside from morning sickness.”

“Beginner’s luck,” The doctor said lightly as she adjusted the stirrups at the base of the exam table, helping your feet into them. “We’ll start with the internal ultrasound. It will feel a bit uncomfortable at first, but hopefully it will help us figure out what’s going on.”

You gave her a thumbs up, turning your head to look at Javier. “Be glad you don’t have to do this part.” You remarked. 

“Trust me,” Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, nodding towards one of the posters detailing an external cephalic version. “I’m already in awe of what women go through.”

There was nothing wrong with you. Everything looked healthy and functional. By all accounts — you should’ve been pregnant. But you weren’t. 

The doctor ran a panel of blood tests that would take a few days to get the results of, but she doubted that they’d reveal anything. Javier scheduled an appointment to get his swimmers counted. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” Javier questioned as he settled into the passenger seat. 

“It’s a nice distraction,” You retorted, reaching across the center console to steal his sunglasses off his shirt. “What’s the process?”

Javier huffed, picking you the sheet of instructions he’d been given, “Three to five days without activity.” 

“Glad it’s next week then.” You rubbed your thumbs over the steering wheel, staring straight ahead for a moment before starting up the car. “I’m supposed to start ovulating at some point in the next forty-eight hours, if things are running smoothly.” 

“It seems like I’m the problem here,” Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, brows furrowed as he stared at the sheet. “I figured this was coming. You know, Steve had to go through a whole gauntlet of tests when they were struggling.”

You nodded, “I remember. They both went through the ringer.”

“It says I can bring a guest.” Javier remarked as he turned the piece of paper over and continued reading. 

“I’m sure Steve will be honored by the offer.”

“Really?”

“I feel like there’s a testy joke in there somewhere.”

Javier snorted, “You’re lucky I love your bad humor.”

“I’m lucky for a lot of reasons.” You told him with a smirk. “I’d be happy to help.” You reached over and patted his leg. “I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with you either. It’s just a matter of timing.”

“Maybe.” He sighed, folding he paper in half, and then in half again before tucking it into the front inner pocket of his jacket. “How are you feeling?”

You made a face as you stopped at a red light, “A bit violated, but that’s pretty normal once the stirrups come out. You should see what happens during a pap smear.”

Javier glared at you, “I read the informational poster. I’d rather not.” 

“It’s fun.” You said dryly as you started through the intersection, making the turn onto the highway. “Thank you for coming today. For staying.” 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Javier told you. “Even if it was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life.” 

You grimaced, “I should’ve told you before—“

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s none of my business.”

“True.” You scraped your teeth over your bottom lip. “There was never a time to casually bring it up.” You pointed out, “Hey when I was fifteen I had a miscarriage and I didn’t even know what was happening.”

“When you were fifteen,” Javier rocked his jaw, “I would’ve been already in and out of college, and  settled into the job at sheriff’s office.”

You nodded, “Sounds about right. Twenty-three?”

“Probably twenty-four.” Javier rubbed his hands together as he stared out the passenger window. “For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” You told him honestly. “That was the first time I’ve thought about it since..” You thought for a second. “Maybe since I was a teenager. It never came up with Josie.” 

“I wish this were as easy as it was with Josie.” Javier sighed. “It’s gotta be me. I’m not exactly young.” 

“You’re not exactly old either.” You rolled your eyes. “Didn’t Hugh Hefner just have a kid at sixty-five?” 

“True.”

“Okay, then it’s probably not you.” You flipped onto the turn signal and merged into the lane for the off ramp that led to your condo. “You’re only forty-five Javier.” 

“I know.” He sighed heavily, sinking back against the seat. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the way he was clenching his jaw. 

“Hey,” You reached over and squeezed his leg. “I think the doctor was pretty impressed by our chart.”

Javier snorted, resting his hand over yours. “We’re gonna have to break our streak when I’ve got to go without you, baby.” 

“But that’s not for a couple days.” You reminded him, squeezing his leg three times. “You should’ve seen her face when she touched the bruise.”

“I’m sure she had a few thoughts on it.”

You laughed, “I’m sure.” In reality — you both knew that that was what happened when you got fucked into the side of your kitchen table. “You know what I don’t get?”

“Hmm?”

“When the doctor tells you that they’ll give you some privacy to get changed…” You said as you turned into your condo parking lot. “As if they haven’t just had a full look at your most intimate parts. Inside and out.” 

“It didn’t look fun.” Javier’s brows rose upwards as he tilted his head to look at you. “You wanna rest? I can handle Josie this evening, when Steve drops her off.” 

“I’ve been through worse.” You shrugged, pulling the keys out of the ignition. “It’s mostly just awkward. I mean, you saw the process. Mostly my stomach’s just a little sore because she prodded at me like it was a deep-tissue massage.” 

“We’ve got a couple hours before he drops her off.” Javier tilted his head to look at you. 

“I know.” You smirked at him. “And we’re home just in time for General Hospital.” It was no telenovela — but damn if you weren’t hooked. 

“You know we don’t have to do this, right?”

“But I want to.” You met his gaze. “It’s probably just a matter of timing.” You wanted this to work — for him. You saw the way his eyes lingered on new mothers with their babies sitting in the waiting room. The way he made conversation with the anxious dads waiting for their partners to come out. 

He’d missed all of that with Josie and you wanted to give him that one thing, after he’d given you everything. 

[utterlyinevitable]

Could you please do 74 and 87 from the prompt list you just reblogged?

thanks so much for the request! sorry it took longer than expected!! 

Above Board

Word Count: 1.5k Warning:  just fluff Summary: Becca and Ethan are having dinner in the diagnostics office and rehash memories from her intern year. 

A/N: The prompt list used is Prompt List #2: 74. “You’re so cute.” and 87. “Oh my god I love you.”

________________________________________

Becca and Ethan sat on the couch in the diagnostics office reminiscing about the past over their Chinese takeout instead of researching for the case they were meant to be reviewing. Their topic of conversation moved to her very first day at Edenbrook, from first impressions to first cases and mistakes. Becca’s legs were folded under her and her body facing Ethan as she shoveled some chow mein into her starved mouth. 

Mmm ohmygod this is so good, she thought to herself momentarily taking her away from their conversation as the savory noodles met her taste buds. 

Ethan brought her back to their conversation by adding, “And then you tried to kill another patient.”

He looked over to her slightly. Ethan sat on the opposite side of the couch a half seat away from her. He was hunched over the container of chicken, his long legs stretched out past the coffee table. His tie was loose of his neck, the only feeling of comfort he allowed while under the hospital roof. 

The glint in his eye told her he was kidding, but the accusation still stung deep to her core.  

“Don’t bring up Annie,” she quickly scolded. “I still feel bad about it.” There was a pause while she finished chewing. “Did you save two lives on your first day?” 

“No…” Ethan conceded with a chuckle, “I actually kept all my patients alive without any drama.” 

“Lucky you,” Becca rolled her eyes playfully. “I’m glad Jackie was there to help. Less so that you humiliated me for a second time that day.” 

The office was dark save for the warm lamps by Ethan’s desk and the one nestled between the couch and the chair. The light peering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the free clinic gave them a sense of security. No one would come looking for this this late in the evening, nor would they be privy to the sight of the two comfortable colleagues. 

“You learned from it, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question, they both know she did.

“But if I wasn’t so confident I probably would have given up medicine that day,” She lamented with a frown. “I’m glad you lightened your approach to interns.”

He shifted his large body on the couch to face her. Ethan raised an impish eyebrow, “I didn’t have a choice in the matter.” 

Becca chuckled before sliding closer to him so their knees nearly overlapped. “I’m glad my good graces are rubbing off on you.” She placed a quick kiss on his temple. “If it wasn’t for Bryce talking some sense into me who knows what would have happened.” 

“That’s because he wanted to get in your pants,” he said with complete malice.  

“Hey! You didn’t even know who either of us were back then. He was a shoulder to cry on in the supply closet when you made me feel like shit.” She retorted playfully, noticing how his clear blue eyes immediately darkened at the thought of her with anyone else. “What’s with that face?” 

“I don’t think he was professional at all.” Neither are we, she thought to herself. If Becca did say those words out loud Ethan was sure to backtrack once again, and she didn’t want them going through another game of chicken between feelings and morals. Third year of residency is only three months away. Becca has been tiptoeing around, trying her best not to scare him off before she makes attending and they can hopefully openly be together. 

“He was a friend,” she told him. “He’s still my friend.”

Ethan raised his fork, “A friend that wants to date you.”

“Ethan, that was almost two years ago!” she exclaimed. “And anyway your adorable jealousy is misplaced. It should really be directed towards Rafael.” 

Without a moment of hesitation he all but shouted, “You and the EMT!?” 

Becca would be lying if she said his outburst wasn’t entertaining. As annoying as having to constantly explain her simply platonic relationship with Bryce had become, she’s adoring the way he’s flared up now. 

With the sliest of smiles she shrugged, “Yes. I may or may not have a type.” 

“Why have you just told me this? I workout with him every morning!” Ethan’s dish was now left abandoned on the coffee table. His loosened tie hung low and his sculpted arms were folded tightly around his chest. Any ounce of previous amusement had been drained from his system. “How long were you together?” 

“You also workout with Bryce every morning,” she pointed out the flaw in his weak rationalization. Becca took a second for him to digest that little detail. Unfortunately for her he didn’t register the remark. With a long breath she clarified, “We were never together. We did have a thing for a little while.”

A brief moment of panic flashed through Ethan at her words. Does she consider us to be of the same fate given our undefined relationship status? 

Although they weren’t official, Ethan considered him and Becca to be in an exclusive partnership. He made a mental note to follow up with her on this at a later occasion. 

“How long was a little while,” he asked warily. 

“A few months.” She could see the wheels turning in his head. “We fizzled out after Miami…” 

His features visibly relaxed, “Good.” 

You’re so cute, she thought as she continued to taunt him with notions of the past.

As Ethan sat before her with the remnants of a scowl on his worn features and his eyes shut to let his shoulders relax, all the memories came flooding back to her - of Miami and the way Ethan let her slowly know him as he truly is, vulnerabilities and all clouded her mind. 

She played over every seemingly romantic moment of intern year swiftly in their silence. Briefly her relationship with Raf came to light.

Becca’s eyes widened just a little bit.  

“Actually I lied,” she said as she remembered her final encounter with Raf. “We hooked up in the on-call room the day you quit.” 

“Explain.” Ethan’s hand flew to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“You left the hospital. You left me. I was so hurt and rejected and full of feelings. We both agreed it was a poor choice of timing.” 

“And?”

Becca threw her hands up in honest surrender, “And it was completely above board.”

“You didn’t…” Why couldn’t Ethan think of the goddamn word? He was a doctor. Years of training had taught him countless ways of asking a patient about their sex life, so why was he blanking now? “...Consummate?” 

“We didn’t have intercourse, no. Completely above waist pleasure.” Becca tried so hard to bite back the smile breaking through. “That ok with you?”

Ethan’s fingers abandoned their position on his nose and flopped down on the couch. “No.” 

“We weren’t together, Ethan.” Becca shook her head. Is this argument really worth it? Why can’t he just let it go... “You made that choice for us again and again. It doesn’t even matter now. He’s marrying the love of his life and starting a family. It’s all worked out for the best.” 

Letting out the breath and all the insecurities he had bottled up over the last few minutes he sighed, “Good.”

Ethan leaned over to the divine woman on his right, snaking his arm around her back to tug her closer. The jolt sent her fumbling right into his chest. 

She exhaled with contention as she breathed him in, How does he always smell so good. 

He let out the smallest chortle as he leaned in and pecked her nose. Ethan looked Becca over as he held her so securely in his arms. He went back to reminiscing, “You actually did make an impression on me that first day.”

 Ethan was looking straight ahead as if the memory was playing out on a stage before him. “It’s a lesser fond memory of our relationship, however still important.” Becca craned her neck to get a better view of him. Ethan Ramsey had an idyllic smirk as he continued, “You ordered me a scotch. Neat.”

Her eyes lit up at the memory. “Oh yeah. You accused me of bribing you.” She pulled away from him just enough to wiggle around and face him head-on. “Is that when you fell for me? Because I knew my way around a bar?” 

Ethan wasn't listening, still so transfixed in the memory. “You thanked me for making you better.” 

“And you told me never to take the job home.” Her brown eyes followed his to the dark corner of the room. Now they both watched their beginning play out in the days eclipse. “Failed at that one.”

Ethan tore his eyes off the past and to the future sitting next to him. He lifted her onto his lap.

“Subjective.” 

He wiggled his eyebrows and shot her a wink. 

Becca laughed at his attempt to play coy, “Oh my god, Why do I love you?” 

Ethan smiled back just as brightly, “Heaven knows.”

________________________________________

Taglist: @ohchoices​​ @dulceghernandez​​​ @aylamreads​​ @binny1985​​​ @ramseysno1rookie​​​ @interobanginyourmom​​​ @queencarb​​​ @perriewinklenerdie​ @rookiefromedenbrook​​ @eramsey28​​ @choicesficwriterscreations​​ @heauxplesslydevoted​​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​​ @purpledragonturtles​​ @ramseyandrys​​​ @ermidc​​ @mrsdrakewalkerblog​​ @doilooklikeiknow​ @overwhelminglyaquarius​ @drethanramslay @edgiestwinter @rookieoh @lucy-268 @mvalentine @lilyvalentine

[steverogersnotebook]

Neighbors - Sofa Date

NEIGHBORS

Recovering TJ Hammond and Steve Rogers (between TWS/CW) who try to find comfort on sleepless nights through baking, music, and friendship. An offer to share company and their mutual talents when being alone is just too much leads to friendship.

(my inbox is open for ideas, prompts and headcanons)

NEIGHBORS fluff | gen [platonic friendships] / Steve & TJ Hammond | minor romance TJ & OMC Julian [SERIES of oneshots]

[read on ao3]

A/N: I started this for Valentine’s Day 2017 or 2018. I don’t know what the holdup was, It’s been almost complete ever since. Well, better late than never!! TYSM every one!

The heavy bag landed atop the previous three, in no better shape, all losing their fill through the ruined covers, causing Steve to wonder if he’d ever find something that could stand up to his strength and frustration instead of prematurely exploding.

Though these troubled nights were on the decline with the catharsis of baking and having friends like Sam and TJ, sometimes, baking just didn’t cut it and he was loathe to push himself into his friends’ space - again - and Steve would resort to a little controlled destruction.

Tonight wasn’t going down without a fight. He’d tried to get some rest after the call came telling him that in a few hours they were ‘wheels up’. It had been fruitless and resulted in a run. He’d amped up his speed and set a course for himself that should have done the trick, but after running fast and far, Steve’s run and subsequent shower didn’t put him any closer to a settled state.

Next try, the kitchen, resulting in cookies and fudge. Ordinarily he wouldn’t bother with something like that in the hours before a mission, knowing he’d be gone for an unknown number of days, but tomorrow was Valentine’s day, and he’d yet to figure out what to do for TJ.

Even though TJ wasn’t alone this year for the holiday, it felt like a tradition. He didn’t have many of those left, so it just felt like something he had to do.

Making fudge from his Ma’s recipe had brought both her and Bucky’s sister to mind. The memory of their childlike joys - from sampling the finished product to trying to cut the fudge into shapes with a knife, not just simple boring squares, to entertain Becca - and the rich aroma had provided all the comfort he’d expected.

Clearly, Steve thought as he unwound tape from his wrist, It just wasn’t enough to quell the agitation over the continuing uneventful search for Bucky and the stress of the impending mission.

So that was how he wound up tearing up heavy bags in a dimly lit gym. He really did need to find a new schtick. And he definitely needed a second shower.

Lying across his bed after his shower, unable to relax - still - Steve laughed at his naive expectations. He reached toward the end of his bed to drag his t-shirt to him as he sat up. Steve tugged the thin fabric over his half-dried hair. He stretched the soft, worn fabric hem over the waist of his pajama pants.

“Might as well finish the thing,” Steve’s voice echoed through the quiet space. He shuffled his stockinged feet across the smooth, clean floor. The glow from the light over the stove led him to the frosted confection. Fingers that had sported bruises when he came home, but were now perfectly pink gently tapped at the icing to see if it had set up.

Satisfied with the firm, smooth texture, Steve inspected the box made from cookies for any weak points before filling it with heart-shaped fudge pieces. Overkill? Maybe, but he could laugh it off with TJ. The thought propelled him out the door and down the stairs until he stood in front of TJ’s door, in his pajamas.

Oops.

He wondered if this was the best idea - if it was even ‘proper’. Shoving doubts aside in favor of not spending the next few hours sweating over yet another physical distraction or tossing and turning fitfully, Steve knocked on the door.

---.---

TJ was just putting the finishing touches on the last of the heart shaped cake pops that he’d decided to bravely tackle on his own, when the knock on the door startled him. Well, maybe he could salvage it, he thought as he wiped his fingers on the flour sack towel and headed for the door.

He wasn’t expecting the sight of Steve standing in the doorway wearing brightly colored socks, brown plaid pajama pants, and a stretched out, yet still too small purple t-shirt threw him. He looked -- anxious.

“Steve, you okay? Come in.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d bring this by.” Steve looked around the apartment as he handed TJ a heart-shaped box, made from layers of cookies. “I’m not interrupting?”

“Of course not. Thanks, wow. This is -” TJ lifted the top cookie that doubled as a lid, to see heart-shaped fudge inside the hollowed out cookie box. “Beautiful.”

“Ma’s old recipe.” Steve’s smile was a weak attempt.

“I can’t wait to try it. Come, sit down.”

“It’s Valentine’s day, you must be expecting Julian, I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Valentine’s Day Eve, and nope, not expecting him until tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Steve sighed. His relief was almost as palpable as whatever was troubling him. “TJ, would you mind playing something - I don’t know - mellow?”

TJ didn’t bother asking, again, what might be bothering Steve. He simply made yummy sounds as he set the box on the piano.

They both sat, Steve heavily on the sofa and TJ eased onto the piano bench. His fingers touched the keys and the first thing to come to mind was the tune Steve had requested the night they’d met. The wan smile from moments ago softened and Steve closed his eyes. Two and a half tunes later, Steve sighed before sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. “So, you do have plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“Me? Other than some iffy cake pops, no, but Julian says he has something planned for me. Miles is with his mom this week.”

“How glad are you that Miles and I broke the ice for you two?”

“Are you still trying to take credit? You know it was my legs and ass,” TJ chuckled.

Steve’s smile eased some more. “I’m glad it’s working out, TJ.” He rubbed his palms up and down the length of his thighs before sitting back against the cushions again. “I’ve got to head out in a few hours.”

“More top secret stuff?” TJ turned away from the piano keys.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “You know, just once I wish I could confide in someone outside of it all.”

“Yeah. Hey, have you considered talking to a therapist?”

“I did think about it. I can’t figure out how it all works now. With everything - I mean with S.H.I.E.L.D. - it had to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. approved doctor. You know, definitely not outside. Then after - who’s qualified? Who’s not a security risk? I’d rather talk to you. You, I trust.”

“That really means a lot, Steve.” TJ couldn’t begin to express how much it meant without losing all dignity. Not that Steve probably thought he had any. “If it gets to be too much, you still could. I know a thing or two about security.

Steve pulled his feet up onto the cushion, the limber bastard looked deceptively small just now.

“Hey, you wanna see what I’ve been trying to do?” TJ knew it was a lame attempt at a topic change, but it was less awkward than a pained awkward silence would be.

“Yeah, sure.” Steve looked over his knees at TJ.

“Steve, are you frightened?”

“No more than usual. Just - when will it stop? I thought it was over when I woke up in this new world. It wasn’t. I thought we were doing something by bringing S.H.I.E.L.D. down. We didn’t.”

“You did, rousting so many corrupt agents and supporters,” TJ lunged forward in his urgent attempt to mollify Steve, nearly toppling the piano bench. “I mean -”

“Thanks, TJ. I know what you mean. There are still cells out there - and it doesn’t feel like we’re ever going to find the end. So -” Steve uncurled from the compact shape and surged to his feet - feigned energy mingling with whatever the serum did to make him quick and agile. He followed TJ to the kitchen. “- What’s your project?”

“Valentine’s gifts for my best friend and my boyfriend.” TJ knew that he still flushed when he said the word, but Steve wouldn’t harass him for it.

“I’d rather be watching Miles for you two to go on your date tomorrow.”

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“Possibly a week. Hopefully just a week.”

TJ plucked away the blob of now hardened icing that had plopped over the edge of the heart “I was doing well, the knock on the door startled me. You think I can salvage it?”

“Yeah. Hey, these look great. If you can get most of that off so that it’s flush, you should be able to give it a little touch-up with the red. Then you can go back to decorating.”

“I was going to do roses, but gave up early on. Hearts are my speed right now. Maybe I can practice roses before Julian’s birthday.”

“Of course you can. Maybe we can figure it out together.” Steve spread his hands across the flat plane of the countertop, “If you’d like.”

“Of course. It’s your fault I even considered this. You should have to do the time.”

“Where are the rejects?”

“Nonexistent,” TJ said, fighting a grin. “Not as in ‘TJ didn’t make any mistakes but this one’ - but as in, ‘I ate them’.”

Steve smiled, shaking his head “I should have known.”

TJ painted red candy coating over the white spot on the damaged cake pop with a surprisingly steady hand, considering how close he was to laughing at them both. “How’s this?” He held the confection towards Steve for inspection.

“You’d have to know about the mistake to find it, but if you’re nervous about it, you could give that one to your best friend and pick out the pristine ones for Julian.”

“Says my best friend.”

“Me?” Steve’s feigned surprise was terrible.

“You don’t go undercover do you?”

“Occasionally.”

“Well, don’t get yourself caught and killed, okay? Cos that was terrible acting. How do you feel about a Valentine’s Eve pizza and movie until you have to take off? Or you’re welcome to crash on the sofa if you just want to unwind.”

“There will be no crashing for many hours,” Steve confided. “I’ve had this nervous energy for several hours, went to the gym. It helped a little. Got home and tried to unwind and now I’m here. Pizza does sound great.”

“So, did you snag yourself a Valentine this year? Anybody going to be disappointed you’re ditching them on the big day?”

“No, I haven’t been looking. If you’d like, I can have Nat give you a call and you two can plot against me?”

“No, hey, if you’re happy - that’s what matters.”

“I sent flowers to Peggy. They’ve moved her back to England. I think I’ll stop by before I come back.”

“Might be just the thing.” TJ picked up his phone to order pizza. “The usual?”

“Hm. Yeah, sounds good. Am I overthinking the dating thing?”

“Probably. It seems like you’re trying to avoid a long-term thing, and in the process you’re missing out on good company and fun things like shows, dinner, and weird but enjoyable adventure dates. I’m not the only person who likes those things, Steve.”

“You’re saying I’ve been using you as a surrogate?”

“People have asked if we’re dating. Even after I started seeing Julian. I don’t mind it, it’s good for my reputation. You’re probably suffering in that department though.”

“I’m willing to take a hit for your burgeoning reputation,” Steve teased.

“That’s why you’re my best friend. Here - bestie - Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Steve took the offered arrangement of cake pops with a warm smile. “Thank you, TJ. You’re not getting any flak from Julian about our friendship, are you?”

“Hell no. He loves that you sized him up both in and out of the Iron Man costume. He was intimidated enough to ask if there was something between us. But I let him know the only competition he has is if he messes up your pastry apprentice.”

“Damn straight,” Steve laughed.

--.--

Music filled the Audi but it might as well have been silent for as much attention Julian paid the noise. His mind was chock full of loneliness. The same thing that he experienced every time he had to drop Miles off at the ex’s.

He tried to think ahead to his Valentine’s plans for TJ. A late brunch, followed by an afternoon and evening on the town. It should be enough to sustain him through the night, but the glaring silence that he’d pretended to look forward to - the lack of childish glee and minor tantrums - made him restless.

Long fingers stroked a strong, smooth jaw before clicking the car stereo off and turning the car toward TJ’s apartment.

He recognized the pizza delivery guy as their regular from TJ’s favorite pizza joint. As they both got out of their cars at the same time, he nodded toward the guy, “223?”

At the nod of recognition, Julian smiled. “Let me take that off your hands.”

“It’s already paid for,” the kid spoke up when Julian reached for his wallet.

“Right. Then this is for you.” Julian smiled. “Thanks. Be careful out there.”

The kid took the cash and grinned. “Thank you, you too - uh - I mean - have a good evening.”

Julian saluted him as he passed, balancing the two jumbo pizza boxes on one hand. He carried them inside wondering if Steve had stopped by, TJ wasn’t expecting him and that was a lot of pizza. Julian let himself in, as he was accustomed to doing, and stopped short when it looked like Captain America might take him out without hesitation.

--.--

They both turned toward the door when it opened. TJ wasn’t surprised, but Steve - unaccustomed to this type of visit - was nearly to his feet, prepared to fight. TJ had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. “Jules, you startled us.”

“I come bearing pizza, is that enough to cover the price of admission? And buy forgiveness?”

Steve backed down instantly, knowing Julian wasn’t a threat. Still, he appeared ready to bolt without notice.

TJ met Julian with a kiss, which went a long way toward alleviating his loneliness.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. You think there’s enough for one more?”

“I see you accosted our delivery person.” TJ followed Julian around the sofa, trying to take the boxes, before giving up and letting Julian set them on the coffee table. “Did you tip well?”

“Of course.” Julian passed a large hand through his wavy hair before putting his palm on the side of TJ’s neck, “Do I look like a barbarian?”

“Jury’s out.”

“Hi Steve. I really hope you don’t mind me crashing. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Julian,” Steve nodded, the momentary shock had melted away and he smiled at the friendly greeting. “I know the feeling. The more the merrier.”

“What kept you up?” TJ asked as he opened the pizza boxes and lined them up in front of Steve and Julian.

“Too quiet.”

“Miles is with his mom,” TJ laid a hand on Julian’s wrist. “You really should be having celebratory naps when he’s with her, that little one is always going.”

“That he is.”

“Must be hard,” Steve said. Loading his plate with slices of pizza, he again considered leaving. He just couldn’t get behind facing the loneliness. He definitely understood too quiet. It might be more permanent for him than for Julian, but the feeling wasn’t easy no matter how long it prevailed.

“Just the first few days. It’s so much easier to adjust to his coming back than his being gone. He loves it there, she’s really a great mom. I just - I’m learning how to behave in both worlds.”

“Let’s eat and watch a movie, maybe that will distract both of you for a bit.” TJ moved past them both to turn the television on. “None of that I hope I’m not in the way nonsense from either of you.”

Steve sat back against the cushions, his plate piled with slices of pizza balanced on the sofa arm next to him. “You’re the boss.”

“Yeah, for now,” Julian teased, tossing napkins on top of the pizza boxes.

“I’m offended,” TJ pouted as he sat heavily on the cushion next to Julian, and sprawled half across Julian’s leg.

Steve snickered before taking a bite of one of his slices of pizza. The trio settled into the comfy sofa in hopes that the movie could distract them.

<<<>>>>

The vibrating phone in his pocket woke Steve. At some point in the movie, the sleep that had eluded him all evening had taken over. He didn’t bother looking at the phone, just slipped out of TJ’s apartment, leaving TJ and Julian snoozing on the opposite end of the sofa.

He tapped a quick reply to Sam, and took the stairs by twos and threes, silent except for one stair that creaked if you breathed on it. In his apartment, he sent TJ a thank you and another Valentine’s day wish before grabbing his gear from beside the door, deciding that he could change clothes on the way. Off to Lagos, for what he hoped would be a quick recon mission.

[commander-yinello]

Guardian (Jumin x Zen)

Happy Birthday @maniart1o9​!!! For you, I wrote some JuminZen with one of your favorite themes (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ I hope you will enjoy it! Read more under the cut ♥♥ ~_^

Word Count: 1945 Warnings: Mild swearing, smoking, references to a car accident

Jumin knows he’s seen him.

Even upside down, with the airbag so closely pressed to his chest that he couldn’t move, his vision spinning, and the overwhelming scent of gasoline making him dizzy, he sees Zen outside the front window. And he’s glowing, so bright his eyes water. Then, as someone pulls him out of the car, he’s gone.

That’s not possible, assistant Kang insists next to the hospital bed he’s sitting in, both waiting for the doctor to come back. Zen was nowhere near C&R International, and she only just warned the RFA 5 seconds ago of the crash. He could not have possibly arrived here that fast.

Ah. The crash. The car crash. The one Jumin was in because Driver Kim had his day off, and Jumin saw no issue driving to the client himself. The one where Jumin had to swerve to dodge another car cutting off his lane, and caused his own car to topple over and crash against a tree.

She’s right, Jumin thinks, there’s no way Zen could have been at the crash. Most likely stress from the crash, a concussion, his panicked imagination going in overdrive.

Yet, not a minute later, the doctor tells him he doesn’t even have a bruise. As if he never was in a car accident. That should not be possible, the doctor says, and assistant Kang is equally confused. Jumin however, is not.

He is certain now, he’s seen Zen.

And he has a suspicion why.

~~~~

Jumin Han:

Do you sometimes find yourself in places you weren’t before when you travel?

ZEN: Dude it’s 1 AM why are you messaging me

Also wtf are you going on about

Are you high???

Jumin Han: You still replied.

ZEN: Go to sleep and leave me alone, asshole

~~~~

He’s always wondered what was up about Zen. He knows about albinos, they often took great care of themselves when going outside, and sometimes had other health issues. Not Zen, who is so handsome, not that Jumin would admit it out loud. Who is so fit, he jogged daily. Who has no problem taking selfies in broad daylight with no sunscreen or sunglasses in sight. It had been only after Jumin made the last comment, a year ago, that Zen suddenly mentioned jogging at night, or an extensive skincare routine.

Back then, he stopped caring very quickly. It wasn’t any of his business, of course, what the narcissistic man did.

Now he cares again. He remembers how Zen had gotten into an accident, and V told him in full detail how Zen had healed insanely fast.

A handsome albino with super fast healing skills. How very strange, he tells Elizabeth, and she meows in agreement. He pets her while leaning an elbow on his mahogany desk, laptop showing a website of occult creatures.

Maybe he is a vampire. The ones in that one teenage movie sparkle. Which is not a glow, his brain reminds him. Plus the whole sun thing would still be an issue.

He entertains the sexy albino vampire idea a bit too long, before he realizes and cuts his thoughts off on purpose.

Maybe he is too paranoid. Maybe Zen is human. Zen’s allergy for cats seems real, at least. Even though Zen is an actor, Jumin thinks, he hides his emotions poorly.

And then Zen mentions that, sometimes, he has prophetic dreams.

Strange. Very, very strange.

Too many things don't add up for Zen to be human. And Jumin wants to know who he truly is - very much so.

~~~~

Jumin Han: Do you often glow?

ZEN: Of course I do, my beauty is radiant Blessed by the Gods themselves

Jumin Han: Gods. Interesting. Tell me all about them.

ZEN: What? What do you mean? You’re creeping me out Also why are you messaging me again what the hell

Jumin Han: You always reply to me.

ZEN: No I don’t, stupid jerk

Jumin Han: And yet you did it again.

ZEN: Argh! I can’t with you! Screw you!

~~~~ 

Zen is calling him a weirdo in the chat again. Jerk. Freak. The words have never mattered to him, but now Jumin wonders if it’s a smokescreen. He’s paid very close attention to all of the chatrooms with Zen in it, to the point it felt like stalking. It’s interesting how often Zen brings him up as a topic, even when it’s completely unnecessary.

He starts to understand why Luciel thinks Zen is obsessed with him. Perhaps because there is more than Zen shows.

But Zen denies everything he asks. He denies whatever screenshots Jumin sends him. He insults and denies and rants, and Jumin doesn't get any closer to the truth. At some point, Zen mentions that his behavior is akin to his older brother, but it comes over as an excuse to make Jumin shut up.

To the outside world, it seems that Zen truly despises him. Jumin is just not convinced.

There’s only a few things Jumin knows for sure. Zen was there when he crashed. And it had to be connected to the fact that Jumin came out of the crash completely unharmed. That’s it.

It drives him mad that he is denied more knowledge.

So he makes a decision. He tells assistant Kang to watch over Elizabeth. Heads down to the garage. Opens the car door. Takes a deep breath and wonders if he’s gone insane.

He gets behind the wheel again.

~~~~ Yoosung☆: Hi Zen!!

Jaehee Kang: Hello Zen, good to see you!

ZEN: Hey guys Where’s Jerkmin?

707: Lololol why do you ask~ Could it be.... You miss him??! (~˘▾˘)~

ZEN: What?! Of course not Why would you say that I’m glad he’s not around to spoil the mood! I just find it suspicious he’s not here

Jaehee Kang: Mr. Han said he had something important to do Now I have c-fur on my suit again T_T

Yoosung☆: Poor Jaehee, hopefully you’ll be free soon - Zen has left the chatroom -

Yoosung☆: Ehhhh????

707: Zen suddenly leaving? Now that’s suspicious ರ_ರ

Jaehee Kang: I hope nothing happened to him. ~~~~

Jumin never crashes. The moment he turns on the engine, Zen is there, in front of the car lights, scaring the hell out of him. In a split second, the lamps in the garage flicker, and Jumin swears he sees a faint glowing outline of feathers behind Zen. 

Zen is wearing his trademark turtleneck and holds a cigarette in his hand. He takes a drag and blows out the smoke, looking bored, as if he had been waiting.

“You're such a jerk, you know that?” Zen’s voice echoes in the large garage. They are alone. He hears nothing in the background, as if time stands still.

Jumin is too stunned to reply. Zen sighs, and walks to the side of the car, opens the door and takes his place in the passenger seat. He grabs the key from Jumin’s fingers and turns the engine off. The smell of tobacco and cologne fill Jumin’s nose, yet he doesn’t find the will to tell Zen not to smoke in his car.

“If me sitting here will stop you from killing yourself, then so be it,” Zen says, and takes another drag after closing the door.

Jumin realizes his hands still grip the wheel, and he slowly lowers them to his lap.

“What… what are you?” he asks.

“I can’t answer that. You already know way too much because I fucked up. Don't worry, nothing will happen to you,” Zen replies, and the smoke surrounding him makes him look more human.

“And to you?”

Zen looks out the open window instead. “It’s fine,” he finally replies.

That isn’t what he wants to hear. But if nothing would happen to him, then possibly Zen’s punishment wouldn’t be too severe.

Zen’s words do confirm other things - there is some higher power at work keeping Zen in check. And Zen did protect him, he’s sure of it now, from dying. So much so that Zen is in trouble for it.

“You protected me… too much. I should have had some damage,” Jumin says, inadvertently licking his lips. He’s nervous, because the bratty vain actor had been the one standing between life and death for him.

Zen runs a hand through his hair. Maybe Jumin is projecting, but he feels Zen is nervous too.

"I know that, trust fund. I just… couldn’t deal with… that." Zen waves his cigarette-free hand at the air in front of them, trying to stay as cryptic as possible.

He cares too much, Jumin instantly realizes. He watches Zen cross his legs - a defensive stance, Jumin notes - and wonders how much Zen has said in the chatroom is real.

“For someone like you, you aren’t exactly good at keeping it a secret.”

Zen chuckles. “You’d be surprised how much people accept. In fact, the stranger you seem, the less likely they suspect.”

Jumin hates to admit that it made sense. “Are you always fighting me because you have to distance yourself from me on purpose?”

“I can't answer that.”

Can't or shouldn't? Either way, Jumin is content with the answer. Yet, he can’t stop asking questions.

“Does everyone have… someone like you?”

“Not me specifically.”

Jumin makes a mental note to check all sun-loving albinos in the country. “Do you know who else is like you?”

Zen shook his head. “I know there are others. No idea who.”

“Sounds… lonely.”

“...It is.”

Jumin knows all about loneliness. He imagines Elizabeth on his lap, and sees the photo of V, Rika and him on his desk, and hears his father’s voicemail on his phone. So many days he’s convinced only Elizabeth would be there to catch him, when he comes home tired from work and falls down the abyss in his mind. Awful, lonely thoughts.

He wants to ask more. Menial questions like is Zen truly allergic, or deeper ones asking about the forces unknown. Jumin decides that he doesn’t want to push it.

“So… what now?”

“You,” Zen points at Jumin’s chest, “Will stop trying to drive, you menace. I actually like it here, so don’t make it worse.”

Jumin grins. “You like it here? Even with me?”

“Yeah, I know, must suck being guarded by someone you hate.” Zen rolls his eyes.

“I never hated you.”

Zen whips his head towards Jumin, eyes wide. 

“Never. Not even when you tried your worst. And now, knowing it is you watching over me… It is a blessing. Thank you, Zen.”

He means it. There is a happy light feeling in his chest, knowing there’s a very logical reason for Zen to act so irrationally towards him. And he knows that he’ll have to act irrational back in order to keep up the facade, so Zen can stay.

He wants Zen to stay.

Zen blushes, and tries to hide it poorly by looking out of the window again. Jumin can’t help but find it endearing. “When you say things like that, people will think you’ve gone crazy.”

Jumin smirks. He doesn’t care what people think of him. Wasn’t there still that rumor of him floating around?

Zen flicks his cigarette stub away and sighs. “Well, I need to go. Take care.”

“Should I, when I have you?” Jumin sasses. It’s too close to flirting to be misconstrued otherwise.

“Wh- N- Whatever, just don’t drive!” he yells. His cheeks are redder, and Jumin notices before the car is filled with a bright light.

Once again, Zen is gone. A very typically Zen to do. Jumin smiles, and sits in the car for a while.

He still has no good excuse when Assistant Kang finally finds him there.