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roseabelle21 · 4 years ago

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Synopsis: Every anniversary spent with your partner are always unpredictable, joyous, and exciting. You never know what a certain blond has planned every year for your special occasion. And after five years of being together, this might be the best one yet.

Pairing: Pro Hero! Bakugou Katsuki x Fem! Reader

Status: Unedited

Genre: Fluff🐰🐇🐰

Tagging: @jazzylove @babymilkawa @cloudsinthecosmos @withlovefromjo @unicornlover25

The ambience of the local cafe never fails to soothe your nerves. The work of a Hero is neverending. After all, no one can tell when a villain might show up and cause destruction. The Hero business is relentless; they will call you up when the job becomes too much for your sidekicks, even on your days off. Of course, you know what you are getting into the moment U.A reached out to you for recommendation trials, and peoples lives are at stake, it was understandable.

The sidekicks are still learning though that doesn't mean that they are not progressing, being the most experienced in the field, they still need your help. You love helping people, don't get it wrong, their smiles and relief noticeable in their faces and posture, the ease they felt when you show up because they knew you are capable of taking that villain down, is enough to make it all worth it. But the reports you have to type up after the fight is less than exciting. Sure you have someone who can do it for you, but that damned Hero Commission wants it to come from you.

So no matter how little time you get to relax, you take advantage of that. Now, here you are, catching up with your best friend since birth in this small, homey cafe. It's rare to have the same day off with someone from class, when you found out that Momo also has her day off today, both of you immediately agreed to meet up. Both of the women practically running up to each other the moment you caught sight on the other side of the road. Wrapping your arms around each other in a tight, and overdue hug, almost squealing in public.

The giddiness from your bodies did not stop even after 30 minutes later, laughing and telling stories from your work and personal life. Even though you already know from your weekly - if not nightly - calls from each other. Bakugou once jokingly said you and Momo act more like in a relationship rather than the both of you do. To tease him back, you wondered out loud if both of you are, you would already be married. Let's say he did not like that one bit, informing the office the next day that you are sick, unable to move your legs and sore body. Fucker just gave you a smug look before leaving to work, Bakugou did cook you breakfast though.

Speaking of him, "Hey- Uhm, I have something to tell you."

Momo looked at you through the top of her mug and gave you a nod. She grew concerned when you bit your lip and traced the rim of your glass with a finger, "what's wrong?"

"It's silly," you chuckled. Nervous to tell the truth, but you knew you had to take this feeling off of you, and there is no one better to tell your problems to other than your ride or die.

"Is it about Bakugou?" she took your hand and intertwined your fingers together, rubbing her thumb along the back of your hand.

You nodded, "it's just that we haven't spent time with each other as much as we want to. We always find time to eat together, breakfast, lunch, and dinner if one of us is not asleep. We always find time for each other. Now," you gulped. "Now, that rarely happens."

Momo listened to your story silently, smiling softly when your eyes met. "It's not silly (N/n) you miss him. And that is normal for couples, have you talked to him about this?”

"No," you shook your head, embarrassed, "I can never find the right time to swoop it in."

She hummed, tapping her chin in thought. You swear you can see her eyes lit up for a split second before it disappeared. Maybe it was just the trick of the afternoon light, so you shake it off.

"I won't be too worried about him cheating on you if that's what you are implying," your eyes immediately widened and hastily shook your head. Embarrassed flushing red on your face as you frantically waved you hands in denial, "n-no! It's not like that!"

Momo giggled and motioned you to calm down. She's only teasing, no one in class - and the whole world - will question the blond's loyalty towards you.

He won't even spare a second glance at any girls who are throwing themselves at him. That was proven when someone tried to flirt with him at a class field trip during your third year of U.A. Bakugou and you only being in a relationship for less than three months, the blond shut her down rather harshly. You almost feel bad, had you not been telling her he had a girlfriend for 10 minutes straight.

You laughed in your head evilly at her tears.

Do you give a fuck? No not one.

How many fucks do you give? Zero.

Were you mean for thinking that? Absolutely.

Do you regret the minuscule smirk of victory forming on your lips once she ran off, crying? Nope. She had it coming.

"Then there is absolutely nothing to be afraid of," she cooed. "You and Bakugou-san have been inseparable ever since your accidental confession," you groaned, embarrassed. "Maybe he's just busy on a mission? You know how obsessed he is with becoming the number one hero. And now that he's so close to achieving it, he might be losing time for you, but that doesn't mean he loves you any less."

A small smile graced your lips at her, thankful to have Momo as your friend to confide in everything. She was and will always be your safe person, other than Katsuki.

After going through that enemies-to-lovers arc? Did she think that Bakugou would easily sway to another person's pursuit of him? Nah, both of you fought for the other to give that up easily (either together or against each other).

"Make sure to tell him what you feel in all of this. Communication is the most important quality in a relationship." Momo reminded with a stern yet soft voice with a wag of her finger, which caused you to giggle.

"Thanks, Momo," the ebony-haired girl only responded with a grin. Her eyes sparkled, excited about what's to come in the next couple of months.

~*~*~*~*

Right now, you felt like the worst person on the planet. With only three days away until the five-year-anniversary with the love of your life, finding the perfect present is almost impossible. Curse you and your perfectionism!

Not only that but the last couple of weeks had been hectic. You think your manager and agency is purposefully doing this to make you suffer. Villains attacking were the farthest reason for your stress, surprisingly. Sure there are petty crimes here and there, nothing your sidekicks couldn't handle, but the media stuff are the ones weighing you down. You grew accustomed to taking a quick shower, at times, dinner with the blond before crashing down on the bed passed out.

Commercials, photoshoots, travelling, sponsor partnerships here and there, it was almost as if you were back in rising to fame. It was exhausting and frustrating at the same time. You can never seem to find a break anymore. The only time you can rest are lunches with Katsuki and coming home late at night, sleeping.

However, both of you made the most out of it after your lunch with Momo a few months ago. You took her advice and told Katsuki how you felt. No surprises, he understands how you felt, gave you a tight hug and explained everything.

Sadly, he can't tell you the mission. It was confidential. Only the higher up's and the rest of his teammates knows it. You understand it's part of the job at the end of the day. And to keep you from worrying too much even though you know he's capable of taking care of himself out in the field.

Both of you miss each other, and with breakfast and lunch is the only reason you get to see your partner, it was slowly becoming regular to you, much to your dismay. "A small price to pay for becoming a Hero" is what your manager would say.

Waking up in the morning to either you or Katsuki making breakfast, taking turns to visit each other at their agency to bring lunch despite the limited time, it was more than enough.

Being in the mere presence of the other is more than enough.

"(Y/N)! Five minutes left till you have to go!"

The voice of your manager snapped you out of your trance. Turning your gaze from your phone screen to their place in the doorway, clipboard in their grasp, hair messy and dark bags forming under their eyes.

A small, sorry smile formed on my lips. Well, at least they're not the only ones.

"You know, both of us would look much, much better if you reject a sponsorship or two." you teased, walking up to them and patting their shoulder as you walked past them.

They smiled sarcastically in retort.

"I wouldn't have too if not for getting a raise," they mumbled under their breath. Tiredly rubbing their face, reminding themselves to suck it up, only three more days, these will all be over. A raise and a week vacation promised, the ones to look forward too.

"Ah, shit! Almost forgot," they pulled out their phone and typed in another errand.

Accompany (Y/N) today, tomorrow, and the next day to find a gift.

~*~*~*~

You found it, the perfect gift to give your explosive man.

You clapped your hands excitedly, placing the carefully wrapped box on the nightstand atop your beloved night book, away from the possible dangers of the world.

Sighing peacefully, a flopped down your shared bed. Curling up the warm blankets and cuddling with Katsuki's pillow, enjoying the peaceful afternoon day.

Finally, a day off.

The day of your anniversary.

This day would have been perfect if your other half was here, you know, spending the rest of your day off together. Waking up with his arms wrapped around you, cooking breakfast with his arms still around you, even walking around with his arms around you.

However, you can't find it annoying. After months of being apart, that was the most and longest physical touch you both have experienced.

Unfortunately, the office called him for an emergency. The phone call was urgent. Katsuki furrowed his brows in annoyance and concern as he listens to his sidekick give him the information. To put the cherry on top, he only answered calmy. That's how you know it was severe; they need desperately need Dynamight in action.

Katsuki was reluctant to leave, telling you he's already been away from you for too long. His eyes screamed for forgiveness, hesitant, and something else you can't quite place.

You pushed him to get dressed, told him if he can finish the mission early, the earlier you can spend the rest of the day together. The fire in his eyes sparkled brighter than ever, accompanied by his menacing grin, accepting the challenge of beating the damned villain who ruined his day faster than they can blink.

He pulled you in for a deep kiss before heading out the door, running back for a quick kiss before finally leaving. A giddy giggle erupted from you at his actions, watching him ride away with his motorcycle.

With nothing else better to do, you decided that a quick nap wouldn't hurt anybody. You know that Katsuki will be back soon, safe and sound. He's come so far, and stopping him right now when he's so close to achieving his dream would be an insult. You have so much faith in him, one of the many reasons he loves about you.

You were ready to drift off into dreamland; had it not been for the insistent and rapid knocking suddenly coming from the front door. Groaning, you muffled your scream in your pillow, wanting to cry from annoyance and stress.

Only one person could be doing that. With their strong voice chanting your name over and over again at the same rhythm as the door knocking, your manager must have something important to tell you.

Their bright smile greeted you when you opened the door, in contrast to the annoyed and tired look you gave them. Telling you what is needed to be said, you dramatically collapsed, landing on their chest. Another commercial to shoot!

"Don't you know what today is?!" You questioned dramatically, flailing your arms around to exaggerate your point.

They smiled apologetically at you, rubbing your back for comfort. "Believe me; you're not the only one dying to sleep right now."

You pouted at them, tiredly rubbing your eyes to chase the sleepiness away.

"Don't worry (Y/N)! It will be the last one for a long time! I've made sure to give us both a break for the next couple of months to give you time to discuss something important with Katsuki!"

You tilted your head, confused at their cherry voice and excited smile despite the darkness under their eyes.

"What-?"

"Let's go! No need to change, costume and your hair and make-up team is already waiting for you, no script needed since you only have to be there, answering the question naturally. And then -"

They continued babbling about what to do the moment you got in the car and towards your destination. As you drive for almost an hour, you noticed the changes in scenery. Gone are the tall skyscrapers and bright lights of the city, now slowly replaced by luscious green grass fields, strong thick trees and clear blue sky that you rarely see nowadays.

It was satisfying, seeing the wonders of nature even in it's simplest forms. You sighed, feeling at ease compared to earlier this morning, wishing that Katsuki was here to enjoy this with you. A nice picnic here or at the park will be enough.

You noticed a large, white tent approaching your view when the car started to slow down. To your surprise, Momo and Mina were there, waving at you excitedly, with bright grins adorning their faces.

"I forgot to mention," your manager started, stopping the car. "A few of your friends will be joining you in this."

You nodded, getting out of the car, wishing you could have changed into something decent other than your sweatpants and Katsuki's shirt.

The girls were immediately shoving you eagerly towards the tent, noticing that they are already dressed and ready for the shoot.

"I'm so excited for this shoot!" Exclaimed Mina excitedly, bouncing up and down carefully as to not ruin her hair. Incoherable noises left her lips as she continued guiding you.

The dark-haired girl beside you, although much more calm and collected, couldn't stop the giggles, holding your hand firmly as they opened the flap of the tent.

A surprised smile painted on your lips when the rest of the girls in your class greeted you.

"(Y/N!)" Ocahako ran to you, giving you a giant bear hug.

"We finally get to be together on a shoot, kero!" Tsuyu added with an excited clap.

"Hurry and get ready!" Hagakure pushed you towards the chair. You would have tripped on the way there had it not been for Jiro holding you by the shoulder.

You let it slide with a happy chuckle. It was almost impossible to get all of the girls together for anything. If they try to plan anything together, one of them will always be busy or on patrol that day.

It was nice being together once again, as in the good old days. Everyone was already ready and dressed in their complementary colours, you noticed. They chatted with you as you get your make up ready, some going out and coming back in for picture taking outside.

Again, you can't help but feel sad that Katsuki is not with you. These would have been perfect if he was beside you. No matter, you told yourself, I'll be with him after this.

"Whoa, (Y/N)," the girls cooed at you simultaneously when you got done. Looking you through the mirror with soft smiles and - were those tears welling up in some of them? To say you are confused will be an understatement. This is not the first time they've seen you glammed up.

"Are you all okay? What's the matter?"

They only smiled at you, dabbing the corners of their eyes to prevent tears from further falling.

"Whooo, enough of this," Mia sighed, fanning her eyes whilst looking up. "Get dressed honey, your dress is already there."

When you entered the dressing room, a beautiful white knee-length cocktail dress greeted you placed on the mannequin. It was off the shoulder with sheer sleeves designed in flowers and a flowy skirt. When you touched the material, you are shocked that it was silk.

Now, you are beyond confused and highly impressed. Then you wondered, what kind of commercial are you making? The company must be loaded to get all the well-known woman Pro Heroes together for this one shoot.

Your brows furrowed in thought but ended up letting it go. Slipping on your dress which hugged your figure perfectly, doing a little twirl to watch the dress flow. You are feeling yourself in this dress.

Once you exited the dressing room, you were surprised when you recognised one of your classmates in dance class there, wearing a bright costume along with the other dancers. They grabbed your hands and guided you to the centre; the music suddenly blasted from somewhere and danced around you.

You were beyond confused as you looked around. None of the girls except Momo was in the corner of the room, laughing and taking a video of you. You are so confused.

What is going on?

They prompted you to dance along with them, and you did, albeit softly; the dancers still cheered you on.

You laughed as they twirled you around towards Momo. "Come on," she pulled you out of the tent, dancers continued cheering you on from the inside.

You walked out towards the open field. The trees decorated in pastel shades of your favourite colours, the ground littered with the petals of your favourite flowers, your heart started to beat faster and faster with every step you take.

You swore you felt your heart leap out of your chest when you spotted more of your classmates came into view. A hand covered your mouth in sheer shock, happiness, and confusion.

Tables and chairs surrounded the open clearing. Red linens covered the tables along with silverwares, the surrounding trees decorated in lanterns and ribbons, a buffet filled with your favourite food on the side, a fucking swan ice sculpture beside it, chocolate fountain. But the one that caught your attention the most was the gazebo: built in the middle of a tree with beautiful white leaves at the tip of it.

You didn't know that you are now standing alone at the entrance, still frozen in shock as you looked at everyone with wide eyes.

What the fuck?

Kirishima then approached you with his usual bright smile, although this one might be brighter than the rest. He chuckled softly at your expression before offering you his hand.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm about to faint and vomit at the same time," you answered shakily with a laugh. "What the heck is happening, Kirishima?"

"Well," he shrugged his shoulders, "why don't you ask the planner of this event?"

The pounding of your heart reached your ears, your face glowing bright red, as he led you towards the gazebo tree; only then did you see a single stool in the middle.

"Wait, the fuck?" You questioned a bit loudly. The rest of the crowd only laughed at your nervousness.

When you sat down, the table to your right; seated two crucial people in your life; your parents. They are smiling at you, tears running down your mother's eyes with your father's arm draped over her shoulder, both of them wearing white clothing like yours.

You mouthed a 'what are you doing here?' with a teary smile. Your father responded with a shrug of his shoulders. Your eyebrows flew when you saw the couple beside them: Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugou, both reacting the same as your parents.

The sound of a microphone caught everyone's attention. Aizawa came into your peripheral vision on the left, wearing his usual black colours. He is nicely clean today; his hair tied away from his face; it looks like he shaved as well. The most surprising of all was the small smile he wore.

What is going on?

Your mind raced at the possibility, a hand resting on your chest as if it can calm your racing heart. It was all too much to take in.

"It's been a while since we're all together," Aizawa started, gaining everyone's attention, soft background music playing in the background.

"I'm not surprised by the length's this man is willing to go; he does want to be the best at everything- which explains everything." Everyone agreed silently. "He will never do anything half-assed."

He then walked up to you with a gentle smile, "now (Y/N), do you know what is happening?"

"No, I don't even know what's happening anymore," you answered shakily. "This is like a joke: Is this a joke?" you joked, albeit shakily.

Aizawa only smiled when you continued, "I'm just waiting for the director to shout 'Cut!' I don't know what to do, am I going dance? Will I start acting? There are camera's here, but they're not giving me instructions."

"You have no idea what's going on?"

"No! I'm already getting scared," you chuckled, voice already starting to reveal that you are about to cry soon. You chose to laugh it off.

"In all honesty, I know that you know and everybody knows and agrees; that you are the most beautiful woman today." You responded with a silent thank you, deeply flattered.

"You know (Y/N), all of this happened because of one person only. Just one person," you swallowed your heart back down, tears starting to escape your eyes as your heart and mind screams of that person's name.

"So don't be surprised; because this is how much he loves you."

Tingles ran down your arms once the background music stopped and Aizawa stepped down. You held your clasped hands in front of you and placed them on your lips, tensing up a little, waiting in anticipation.

"Sir, I'm a bit nervous about being here today."

The world stopped turning when you heard that line. The tears escaped along with a happy sob. The figure of Katsuki Bakugou emerged from behind the tree at the entrance, holding a microphone to his lips. The other hand, resting deep in his pockets.

"Still not real sure what I'm going to say," he walks up to you. Not once tearing his eyes away from yours when he met them. The smile on him was nothing like anyone has ever seen before; nervous, happy, content, love.

"So bear with me, please, if I take up too much of your time."

He was nothing short of perfect. No words could ever describe how beautiful he is right now; of course, he's always beautiful, but now, he is taking your breath away.

It was already rare when you see him not wearing his baggy clothing; it's considered a blessing to see him wear a formal white tux that suits him too well.

When he neared you, he took out a red velvet box in his pocket: gripping on it tightly as he angled it towards you.

"See in this box is the ring for your oldest. She's my everything and all that I know is. It would be such relief if I knew that we were on the same side."

Everyone watched in anticipation as the blond finally reached in front of you, kneeling on one knee as he continued to serenade you.

"Can marry your daughter, and make her my wife. I want her to be the only girl that I'll love for the rest of my life. And give her the best of me 'till the day that I die, yeah."

At this point, you don't care if you look like a mess. The love of your life is looking up at you like you are the most beautiful person he has ever seen; it's probably true.

"I'm gonna marry your princess, and make her my queen. She'll be the most beautiful bride that I've ever seen. I can't wait to smile; as she walks down the aisle; on the arm of her father. Till the day that I marry your daughter."

You told him about your dream proposal; it doesn't have to be anything special as long as the song is there along with your family. And you know Katsuki, you give him an inch, he'll take it to the moon.

Katsuki stared at you with a soft smile, reaching his arms to wipe the tears off of your face. Laughing at his actions, you held on to one of his hands, placing it down on your lap. Both of you took in deep, calming breaths to ease your nerves before smiling at each other again.

"Hi (Y/N)," he called with a soft, shaky tone. A short laugh left you at his adorable nervousness. "Hi, Katsuki."

"You already know what the fuck is going on," the crowd laughed at his bluntness. "I'm not gonna beat around the bushes any longer. I want to make this official."

He opened the velvet box; a gasp left you as you saw the ring inside. A beautiful red ruby gem immediately caught your eyes as it shines in the sun.

A large smile adorned your lips as Katsuki looked at you with a tender expression. Everyone wiping away their tears at the moment before them.

"I'll save all the sappy words at the wedding vows, now, (Y/N)," when his eyes met yours again, you are sure.

"Will you do the honour of making me the happiest man alive by being my wife? Will you marry me?"

Despite the tears falling like a waterfall, your answer was clear and sealed. No matter how many different worlds there might be, how many different lifetimes are there in this universe, nor all the possible scenarios this proposal can take in, you will never get tired of saying the answer over and over again.

"Yes."

One way or another, Katsuki Bakugou and (Y/N) (L/N) will always find a way to be together. Herein is arms and the ring on your finger; all is well and where it should be.

Even though you can't give him his present now, I'm sure the box is still safe and sound on the table.

After all, you are the one carrying the most important gift.

The two strips of pink line on the stick only confirms it.

A/N: This is the longest and hardest story I have ever written for a one shot so far. Wedding?

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x you #bakugou imagine #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou x you #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou fluff #fluff #bnha fluff

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

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deception

“Don’t you see what he’s doing to you?! He’s hurt you way more than what’s acceptable in a sparring march! You’re bruised and hurting, and he sure as hell doesn’t seem to care that this is the state he’s left you in.”

— Or in which, Hawks manipulates how you view your boyfriend, Shouto. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, cursing, alcohol consumption, manipulation, 18+, smut, first time sex, body worship, oral (receiving and giving), and praise

word count: 10,223

a/n: this was a commission! it was very fun to write this once I got around to it... life has just been... well you guys know because youre living it too. but I hope you enjoy this!!!!

edit: OMG AND SUPER BIG THANK YOU TO @marilla-eldriana FOR HELPING ME

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Being a student at Yuuei was a privilege.

Every year only two hundred and twenty students were admitted from a drawing pool reaching into the thousands. From there, only forty were admitted into the Hero Department, and finally, only three per year were granted the title of the Big Three.

“Watch out!”

You watched as Hawks crashed through the window to your left, and you looked down at him with a wide grin, what an idiot.

“I thought speed was better than power,” you mock watching as the villain the two of you had been hunting for some time now easily flicked the number two hero to the side.

“And that’s why I got you, isn’t it?” he chirped before rolling onto his feet.

You shrug, the smile on your face telling a different story while you both stared down the villain you had corned. There was no way you were going to let him go, no, this hunt was going to end now.

“I’ll assist you,” Hawks whispered, and your stomach fluttered in anticipation.

There weren’t many times in your internship where Hawks would say that. Working with one of the fastest and swiftest Pro Heroes ever meant that you were always fighting for a spot on the table. The days of Hawks swooping over the city faster than the eye could follow were still there; in fact, most of his sidekicks were probably cleaning up the mess the two of you had left five cities behind you.

But you were different than them, you guessed.

You were only fifteen years old when Hawks scouted you for an internship, and while you had heard the rumors of what working with the — at the time — number three hero was like, it wasn’t like that. Speed was something you had always lacked. Sure, you were faster than any past Olympian, and any ordinary citizen, but in comparison to your hero peers, you were slow. After a humiliating loss of your first Sports Festival on account of being too slow, it was an almost sweet irony that the fastest Hero took an interest in you.

But it was good. Three years you had worked with him, three years of learning how to keep up with the fastest hero by breaking your body down on multiple occasions. At first, it had been just trying to keep up with his sidekicks who cleaned up after his mess, who were extremely quick as it is. Then after figuring out how to use your power quirk to make yourself faster, something that had been helped with a fight or flight response on your own end, you were able to become faster than most Pros.

But that wasn’t anything in comparison to Hawks still, but when a sixteen-year-old girl saves your life because you overshot your ability to fight, it’s easy to incorporate said sixteen-year-old girl into your regular routine.

The initial introduction of you into his regular routine was less than ideal, he had simply stated to follow after him and would be gone. But with time, he took to holding onto you while he flew, which meant that you needed to include glasses and ear protectors into your costume.

With the glass crushing under the weight of your shoes, you crotched the slightest bit, looking over at Hawks with a smirk. Three years of teamwork had lead to moments like these, no need to communicate, and with a raise of an eyebrow, he nodded.

The feeling of his feathers skimming your back shot the anxiety coursing through you, and you ran out of the shattered window, Hawks hot on your heel and the villain coming straight at you.

In the long run, it didn’t mean much that you were physically stronger than Hawks could ever be, but it sure made you smile knowing that you were.

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“And that’s another point for me!” you grin watching as the police took the villain into their car, Hawks stood next to you with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What will I do? I have eighty-seven points, and that makes what? Twelve?”

“It’s not my fault you go for slow as shit villains,” you accuse, turning your nose up at him.

“Oh yeah? Should we hunt for the fa—”

“Hawks!”

The two of you froze in your quarrel, turning to a man who was towering over the two of you.

Endeavor.

“Endeavor, hi!” Hawks erupted into a wide grin, his eyes brightening while he looked up at the man he admired.

Trying to hide your snicker, you tilted your head, and your eyes widened seeing three boys behind him.

“Hey guys!” you wave at your classmates behind Endeavor.

“Y/h/n!” Deku greeted you with a large grin and a bow.

You smiled, even more, seeing the way that Bakugou and Shouto both addressed you in their own ways.

“How are you guys doing?”

The rather one-sided conversation between you and Deku made you laugh on many instances. It seemed that being the only work-study students had meant that they were always getting their asses beat. Not that you didn’t already know this, it was just humorous hearing it coming from Deku’s mouth.

“Is Tokoyami-kun not with you guys?” Deku asked, looking around at last for the raven headed student who did, in fact, work with Hawks.

“Not today! A neighboring agency requested his help, so it’s just Hawks and me today!” you nodded your head at the three boys who were quite famous within Japan.

“Are you okay? We heard about the villain; that’s why we’re here,” Shouto spoke, his eyes curious, and his head tilts.

Your face warms when you smile, nodding gratefully.

“I am,” you clasp your hands together, “Hawks got sent through a building, though.”

“Some fucking number two hero,” Bakugou scoffed, and you snickered not wanting to agree with your stupidly observant boss behind you.

“You guys look less than put together; what happened to you?” you asked, noticing the scruffs and dirt on all of their faces.

“Bakugou and Midoriya got into a fight mid-air, and I happened to be in the fire zone,” Shouto rolled his eyes. At the same time, your friends exploded into offensive and defensive arguments, respectively. “We fell into the middle of some villain fight weirdly enough.”

While you grinned at Shouto, your eyes locked completely, you knew it wouldn’t last.

“Alright, y/h/n, Endeavor says there’s a villain seven blocks ahead, and I think we can beat them there!” Hawks laughs, and you can’t say your goodbyes because his hands lift you into the air. “See you guys there!”

And you were off.

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Your limbs ached slightly when you reentered campus grounds. With your case in your right hand, there was nothing to do except trudge ahead, hoping to get to your dorm quickly.

“You’re back.”

You blinked and saw Shouto approaching you. He was in a casual outfit, most likely having been here for some time, seeing that it was eight at night.

“What are you doing out so late?” you ask, pushing down your skirt in hopes to look presentable even with the bandage on your chin.

“I was waiting for you,” Shouto smiles gently, his hand brushing your cheek, observing the injury on your face. “You okay?”

“It was just a scratch, nothing too crazy,” you promise, and you smile under his warm touch.

There isn’t much surprise when his lips come and press against yours, and you hum contently feeling his warm skin moving gently against yours.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Shouto whispered, finally pulling away from you. You groaned, having not been satisfied with the simple liplock, but opened your eyes to see that he was studying your face again.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you tease, your nose scrunching with your words.

“I have so many already.”

“I know,” you smile, dragging him away, “I’m starving.”

It didn’t take long for you to get a proper dinner. With you being out for your only day off, you were pleased to see that there was a plate of food waiting for you that was left behind by your classmates. So you sat in the dining area of the dorm, eating the food while talking with Shouto.

You told him about the rest of your day, of how the two of you were close to cracking this case of serial cases of disappearing Pro Heroes who would reemerge days later without memory. The two of you had been working on it for a week now and had multiple promising leads. With the end of your career at UA coming in only five days, you were excited about the possibility of cracking this case after your graduation to help give you a good running start as a sidekick on the Hero Charts.

But before you knew it, it was already past eleven, and with classes tomorrow, it was time for you to go your separate ways.

“You don’t want me to spend the night?” he asks while you walk unconvincingly to the door of your floor, your hands grasping his.

“You know that I do, but I can’t let that happen yet,” you pout, watching as Shouto nods in understanding. “Soon, I swear.”

“I just can’t believe my girlfriend has no self-control that I can’t even sleep in her bed without her wanting to fuck me,” Shouto sighs and while you splutter, telling him how he’s wrong, he places a goodnight kiss onto your forehead and leaves with a kind smile and a small wave.

Stupid son of a bitch.

But he wasn’t wrong.

You had morals and ethics that you had told to Shouto well before things turned serious for the two of you. Sex was something you were always nervous about, not in the sense that it was a bad thing — god forbid you’d ever slut-shame anyone — but more that you wanted it to be special.

It had to be with the right person at the right time.

Shouto was someone you knew was the right person, but as your hormonal feelings for Shouto grew and you realized one late night that you were grinding against his bucking hips, your face hot, his lips and teeth pulling at the sensitive flesh of your neck did you realize that this was so not okay. You had pushed Shouto onto the ground, his eyes dazed and confused while you began to say that you were so not ready for this step of the relationship. But it wasn’t like it was the only time you’ve blue balled your boyfriend… no, you had done it time and time again.

So much so that Shouto practically refused to be in a room alone with you now because it always ended with one of you pinned to the bed and Shouto being launched onto the floor.

With a sigh, you watched Shouto turn around, walking backward with a small wave and a grin when you blew him a kiss and flipped him off. He called you the moment he was back in his room, and although you weren’t letting him stay in your bed with you, you did fall asleep on the line with him, his steady breathing lulling your heavy eyes to sleep.

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Hawks watched while you trudged into his office, your face pulled into a pout, a bandage sitting on your cheek.

“Morning,” you call out, exhaustion evident on your face.

“What’s up with you?” he smirks, watching you walk to his desk and slumping onto a chair, your eyes closing.

“So tired,” you murmur, your head nestling into your arms, ready to fall asleep. “I didn’t sleep much last night?”

“Why’s that?”

“Stupid boyfriend,” you mumbled.

It had been three days since you had last been in the office, with graduation preparations, Hawks couldn’t call you out as often. But that wasn’t what he was concerned about, no. Hawks froze, replaying your words in his head like a broken record. He didn’t know you had a—

“Boyfriend?”

Those words passing his lips only made you groan louder, your head nodding, “Yeah… I’m dating Endeavor's son Shouto… for about… a year now!”

Hawks' brain went into overdrive.

A year of dating, and this was the first he’s ever heard of it! He had been your mentor, your boss, for three years and never before had you even mentioned a boyfriend before. Hawks lips pressed together, a looming pit of jealousy forming in his stomach. His feathers fluttered, his arms crossing.

Hawks was used to knowing everything, to being able to get what he wanted most, and he was planning on asking you out when you graduated. He had sworn his feelings had been returned; after all, who couldn’t find themselves falling for the young and hot number two hero?

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah! I can have him steal you a pair of Endeavors underwear if you want, I know you’d like that!”

Hawks looks down at your teasing face, his nose scrunching in mock disgust, “Please, I don’t need a baby stealing Endeavors underwear for me. I can get them myself!”

Your smile is warm, and Hawks watches while you pull out your phone, quickly texting something.

“What? Telling your boyfriend you made it safe and sound?”

“Actually… yeah…” you mumble while finishing up your text.

Now Hawks wasn’t evil, he knew that; he also wasn’t used to losing, because that wasn’t him. But there was something odd about the way his stomach twisted and his feathers raised at that confirmation, and the words poured from his mouth without him ever having the chance to stop them.

“Does he make you text him?”

You nod, a grateful smile on your face when you drop your phone. “Isn’t it sweet? I think it’s… why are you making that face?”

“What face?” Hawks fluttered his eyes, mock innocence for the first time not sitting correctly on his face.

“That one, Hawks!” you laughed, throwing your case at him. “The one that looks like when I stole your chicken leftovers.”

Hawks snorted, and he shook his head, deciding to walk out of his office to begin his daily routine; after all, these morning conversations were apart of said routine.

“I don’t know... He knows you’re strong and that you’re here with me, and yet he doesn’t trust that you’ll get here? Or is it in a controlling sense?”

“W-What?”

Hawks turned around and looked at you, your eyebrows scrunched, eyes looking down at your phone.

But when your eyes rose to meet his, Hawks simply smiled, his head shaking.

“Never mind!”

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It didn’t stop there. No Hawks had officially lost his brains with how he was approaching this. Everything out of his mouth concerning your boyfriend was bitter, foul, and implementing lies in your mind. A desperate attempt to get you to feel like Shouto wasn’t good enough that he was manipulating you and Hawks watched while you carefully danced to his tune, your frown deepening with every sweet lie that rolled off his lips.

“I’m hanging out with him and his siblings tonight!” you announced after the day at work was done.

Your smile was bright once more, a day on the field improving your mood. Hawks nodded his head, remembering how the Todoroki siblings were good people, and how you also had siblings.

“His siblings too?”

“Yup!” you nod. “I’ve gotten to know his siblings really well! They’re really great! We go over so often, and I like to believe that I’m close with his family now!”

“Oh, that’s sweet!” Hawks smiles, his head tilting to the side. Faux innocence. “How about your family? Is Todoroki close with your family?”

Your jaw opens, and your head drops, your head guilty shaking no. “It’s a bit harder for that to happen, and he met them once and well… it didn’t go too well.”

Hawks eyes widen, his hand rubbing the back of his head with a heavy sigh, “Ah, I see… don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Um… no, not really?”

“Well, as an outsider, and your friend, Imma have to tell you that it’s weird. It sounds like he doesn't like your family? He’s not trying to control you, is he? Not trying to isolate you from them, right?”

Your teeth dig into your lower lip, and Hawks watches with over bubbling joy at the doubt and realization growing on your face. He was hitting the right nerves.

“I-It’s okay!” you chirp, your feet dragging against the floor while you move to leave. “It's probably not that!”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Another movie outing with his friends?”

“We’re watching the newest All Might documentary, it’s not like it's a banger!”

“Todoroki just never seems to care to include your friends or do things with your friends. It seems like he’s trying to keep you confide in his friend group.”

“My friends haven’t… they haven’t said anything?”

“Who would? You’re dating the most powerful son of the number one hero, no one would dare to speak up against him, especially if he told them to stay away from you.”

“That doesn’t sound like Shouto…”

“I mean, Todoroki is jealous of the way that your family loves you, and that’s why you’re always with his family. I don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t keep you from your friends too?”

“Oh…”

“You don’t have to believe me, of course! I’m sure he’s a great kid, after all, he did choose you to be his girlfriend.”

You scoff, shoving Hawks with your shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Nah, you’re amazing, y/n, and you should know it.”

“Mkay, pigeon, egg off.”

“Oof, I’m so scared!”

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Your world spun, and you crashed onto your back with a low groan, jolts of nervous energy coursing through your nerves while you remained pinned to the floor. Hawks stared at you from above, his jacket long since discarded, and his hands grasping your wrists while he straddled you.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve been able to pin you since you were sixteen!” Hawks laughed, but he immediately took notice in the way you were grimacing.

You didn’t do that often, but you weren’t done yet. Shifting your weight up and over, quickly, you managed to pin Hawks to the ground, his head bouncing against the matted floor with a groan of dismay on his skin. Your nose was brushing against his, his warm breath expelling gently against your face. No! You pulled away suddenly, your heart in your throat at the nearly intimate contact. But it was too much movement on your own end because your body screamed at you.

Your breathing was shallow, a feeble attempt to calm the pulsating pain that traveled through your nerves.

“What is it?”

“I was sparring Shouto last night,” you mutter, feeling Hawks’ fingers immediately searching your skin for injuries. “You know how he sucks at close range combat, but he must’ve been practicing with Bakugou and Deku because he’s never been able to land hits like that…”

With your jacket pooling from your shoulder, Hawks fingers traced over the bruises that colored your skin. Ugly purple, green, and yellow all over. You hissed when he applied pressure to one, and you flinched, getting off of him.

“Are you sure this was sparring and him not beating you?!”

“I would know the difference between sparring and an ass beating,” you groaned, your eyebrow scrunching while he took you in more. “Besides, you should see how he is. I still won!”

You were silent Hawks words ringing heavy in your ears.

Did Shouto… was this a sign that he wasn’t who you thought he was?

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“Shouto?” you whispered, your knuckles rapping at the door, hopeful he was in his room. “Are you in?”

You heard the sound of footsteps against the floor and watched the door open. There Shouto stood, wearing black sweatpants and a white tank he leaned against the door. Your eyes caught sight of the black bruises against his skin courteous of your sparring last night.

“Y/n?” he expresses with a pleasant surprise. Shouto’s hand reaches for yours, but you flinch away, stopping him in his tracks. “Are you okay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your head nodding, “Sorry, long day, and um, I’m still sore from yesterday…”

“Yesterday? Ohh~ what happened yesterday?” You watched with the smallest amount of amusement when Sero revealed himself, his arm thrown around Shouto’s shoulder with a stack of manga in his hands.

“We spared, why?” Shouto asked with that perfect density that Sero stammered, unable to recover from Shouto’s lack of an appropriate response.

“Boring, anyways, I’ll bring these back soon, I promise!”

You and Shouto bid Sero goodnight, and with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Shouto looked back down at you.

“Care to come in?”

“I would.”

You sat on Shouto tatami, your knees bent with your arms wrapped around them while he rummaged around.

“Here, I made some healing ointment for the bruises,” Shouto said, placing the white container on your knees while he sat in front of you. “I know that even though you won, my kicks probably hurt like a bitch.”

“The biggest bitch,” you agreed, watching while he unscrewed the ointment and began to delicately place the salve on your skin. It immediately cooled down the warm skin, and you studied his face while he did so. His touch was gentle, almost too soft for someone as battle-ready as himself. But he was on a mission to make you feel better, and for every bruise he covered, he apologized.

Soon enough, every bruise was covered, and you didn’t even realize you were crying until Shouto’s eyes widened when he noticed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you not trust me?” you ask, the days worth of anxiety that Hawks had been instilling into you, finally pouring from your lips.

“What?!”

“It’s just… with the texting you where I am, and who I’m with even when you know before I leave! A-And how about my family? I always go with your family, but the one time you met mine, it was disastrous! And then you never w-want to hang out with my friends! And you were so hard on me during sparring last night… Did you want to hurt me?! Why are you trying to isolate me?! Are you trying to control me?! You’re a powerful person Shouto a-and with your dad being the most powerful person I just… are you forcing people away from me?!” Tears poured from your eyes, your sleeves rubbing away the tears on your face, the ointment gathering on the fabric,

Shouto instantly reached out to you, but you shifted away from him, your face burning with embarrassment from your outburst. You wanted Hawks to be wrong, Shouto was good. He was an idiot, but he was a good boyfriend. Please prove him wrong, you thought. Please.

“Is that how you feel?” Shouto asked, his voice quiet but steady. His hand was pressed against the duvet, centimeters from your side. Not touching you, but giving you the ability to reach him when you were ready. “I just… I’ve never done this before, you know that. Y/l/n y/n, you are someone that I am way too lucky to have in my life. I asked what are boyfriend appropriate things to do from my classmates, and I guess I might have been overdoing it myself. I ask for a text because I want to make sure you get places okay. I know you’re powerful and can take on anyone, but it’s because you’re powerful; it makes you a target to villains. I honestly thought you liked my siblings a lot, so I wanted to keep you with them because if they’re your friends, you deserve to see them. I am sorry about your family, but they are assholes, and you know that.

“But if you want to go visit and hang out with them more — with or without me — I would never stop you! I know I can’t keep blaming myself for being new to all of this a year into our relationship, but I didn’t know it was appropriate to invite your friends to hang out with us when we were with my friends. I thought they wouldn’t want to hang out with us guys. I also know you enjoy your alone time, and you tend to spend alone time with your friends, and I never want to intrude. I am so sorry for making you feel this way.”

“No,” you sniffle, your tears turning from one of sadness to those of guilt. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” he whispers, his fingers brushing against yours ever so gently. “It’s my fault you felt like I was isolating you, controlling you. You don’t have to forgive me, but if you’re willing to give me a chance to prove myself that I can change, I’d like that.”

There wasn’t stopping the way that you threw yourself into his arms, your tears soaking his neck, and he pressed gentle after gentle kiss against your temple until you were no longer crying.

For the first time in your relationship, you spent the night, and against what you had previously thought, the two of you did nothing more than embrace in a wet lip-lock.

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Graduation finally came around, and to say the least, you were excited.

Finally, you were now a Pro Hero — well, really a sidekick, but that didn’t matter! The entire day you spent it on campus, watching the graduation ceremony take place with your classmates at your side. Tears were shed, photos were taken, and the end of your high school career came to a close.

Due to your accomplishment, something that wasn’t at all doubted in the first place, Hawks had thrown Tokoyami and you a large party in celebration. You were, after all, the first students to have gone through his agency for all three years of high school, and he deemed that celebratory worthy.

With such an occasion and countless years ahead of you to be on your top tier game, it was to no surprise that you were letting loose at this party. And yes, by letting loose, you meant being drunk.

Me: shoutoooo baby i loe you oh so much

Shouto: I love you too, make sure you get water to drink and don’t have an empty stomach.

Me: i had dinnerr with you remeber !!!! no empty stomach here!!!!!

Me: im sorry for crying that night that was so dumb of me to being insecure about

Shouto: you should still be eating more if you’re planning on drinking more. And it’s okay, it’s equally my fault as it is yours.

You stared at the text, your vision slightly blurry while you imagined just what you would do with Shouto soon. You bit your lip with a grin, but with a sudden loss of balance, you stumbled back into someone.

“Oops, sorry!” you yelled louder than you expected, turning around to greet whoever you had run into. You saw a familiar face with a bird head standing there with his arms outreached to balance your stumbling form. “Tokoyami-kun! I didn’t know you were still here!!! I would’ve taken a shot with you! Oh my god, I LOVE your jacket! Where did you get it!”

Tokoyami smiled, his head nodding, “I happened to have it lying around, although I can’t remember where I cross paths with it, to begin with. And I couldn’t forsake you by leaving before you were ready. It’ll be pleasant to have you around all the time with Hawks starting in a few days.”

You nodded your head, your hands stretching out in an attempt to respond animatedly, but yelped when you slapped someone instead.

“OH, NO! Did I hurt you?! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, turning to the second person you had hit in a matter of minutes.

It was Hawks.

“It seems she is quite inebriated,” Tokoyami pointed out, and you nodded in agreement.

“I am!”

Hawks chuckled, his head shaking, “Imma take her back to my place then, she’s a disaster in the making if we let her stay here.”

There wasn’t room for debate because you were suddenly in his arms and waving goodbye to Tokoyami, your sense of judgment gone.

“Take me hoooomeeee,” you sang into Hawks's ear when he soared into the night sky, and much to your amusement, Hawks continued your song.

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Shouto sat in the common room, his eyes shifting to check his phone every so often. He knew you were drunk, that had been very clear the moment you called him only twenty times pretending to not be you while slurring your sentences. Nothing was stopping the uneasy feeling in his chest after you had explained yourself and your feelings that one night, he had put together that Hawks liked you. But without definite proof, he didn’t want to claim such things.

And while he had no doubts about your ability to protect and defend yourself, there was no saying if that was true if you weren’t sober. Hell, he’s fought you sleepy once, and there was a significant difference between you being alert and you being exhausted.

Regardless, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he heard something back from you, and with his classmates currently celebrating the end of the year by playing video games, he was there alongside them.

“I’ve returned,” Tokoyami called from the entrance, and Shouto turned around to see the bird head man walking to approach the gathering of the few remaining classmates in front of the common room's TV. He said his greetings before coming to rest by Shouto’s side. “The party was a bit too loud, but I think you would have enjoyed entertaining it.”

“It’s your guys night,” Shouto shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t need to be there when it was her work friends. How is she doing?”

“Ah, well you see,” Tokoyami nodded his head, his fingers raking through his black hair, “She was quite drunk, so Hawks-san took her back to his place to sober up, most likely spend the night at his place — Todoroki?!”

Shouto had no idea why bitter fire raged in his chest; all he knew is that for the first time ever while he slipped on his shoes and his jacket, he pulled up a contact he didn’t expect he would be using so casually.

“Shouto?!”

“Do you know where Hawks lives, Endeavor?”

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“Are you feeling better?” Hawks asks you, taking the bottle of water from your hands.

The low sparks of the alcohol that had once been coursing through your body had simmered into slow pulses. You knew you weren’t one hundred percent sober, but you were sober enough to realize that you should have asked Hawks to take you to the dorms instead.

“If you’re asking if I’m no longer sloppy… you’re in luck,” you sigh, a tired grin spreading on your face while you reach for your phone. You frown, seeing that it was dead, but it didn’t matter much; you would get home without it being alive anyways. “Thanks for sobering me up; I think you could have done it back at the party, though.”

Hawks snorted, his head tilting up, his head in thought. “I definitely could have done that, but I didn’t want you taking shots in secret while trying to sober you up.”

“I’m sure you could handle me just fine.”

“The last thing I can remember is that you are physically stronger than me and if you’re drunk… well, I was scared you’d kill me by accident.”

“Haha,” you laugh sarcastically, your eyes rolling in your amusement.

Silence overtook you both, and your gaze fell to your hands. You wanted to ask him why he was so insistent on Shouto being toxic, and how he did a 180 the second you told him about how the two of you talked things through.

“Did you want me and Shouto to break up?” you ask quietly, unsure of what you wanted him to answer. “I keep thinking of everything, and that’s the only thing that makes sense to me and all the controlling business…”

Hawks stared at you, his eyes void of all emotion, and yet you felt like he was more open to you than he had even been before. His mouth moved to answer, but there was a knock at his door.

With a heavy sigh, Hawks rose to his feet, “I don’t think I should answer your question.”

So there you sat, his once comfortable couch feeling stiff and hard.

“Y/l/n?” Shouto’s voice rang through the apartment, and your eyes widened. You got up off the couch, your head pounding just slightly while you clamored to the front door. There you saw Shouto staring down at Hawks, how funny it was that your eighteen-year-old boyfriend was taller than a twenty-seven years old Pro Hero.

“Tokoyami told me you were here, and I wouldn’t want to bother a busy hero with taking care of my girlfriend when I can do that myself,” Shouto spoke, his eyes narrowing down onto Hawks as the words my girlfriend let his tongue. But it also sent a shiver down your spine, a coursing ember that had been ignored this night, reigniting it once more.

You were ready, you realized when his blue and grey eyes found yours.

“Thanks for tonight, Hawks,” you wheeze, grabbing your shoes at the door and quickly pulling them on. “I’ll see you in the office in two days!”

With nothing more to say, you grabbed Shouto by his wrist and pulled him away.

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The campus was quiet when you arrived, the day of excitement having long since simmered down as the clocks read two in the morning. This would be your last night in your dorm, most of your classmates had chosen to move out today as well, but with no one to help you out while you were at the party, you decided to stay one more night. But with the way your blood was pumping, and how you could feel the jealousy coursing through Shouto’s veins, you wanted to get back to your room as quickly as possible.

Entering the dorm building that was made for your class, you felt Shouto pulling his hand from yours, obviously ready to begin his goodnight routine.

Shouto’s hands grasped your cheeks, fingers hot against your cold skin, and his eyes staring down at you. Millions of emotions coursed through his gaze, but you were focused on the one that spoke of his love for you. His lips pressed down against yours, and you met him in full earnest. His lips pulling against yours, sending fire through your body, sensations that sparked only the familiar excitement you had always denied in the past. You could practically taste his unspoken anger and jealousy on his tongue, and it only made you crave more from him.

You were ready.

“Goodnight,” Shouto whispers against your lips softly, and you laugh. Your hands move up to cup his cheeks, and he pulls you in closer, his hands firmly placed onto your lower back. “I’ll come to your room in the morning to help you pack up.”

“Stay the night,” you say softly, your teeth tugging at your lower lip that was warm from his efforts. “I’m ready.”

Shouto’s eyes widened, his eyebrow lifting slightly, “You want to fuck?”

“Don’t say it like that!” you groan, pinching his cheeks in your embarrassment. But his eyes were bright, and the next thing you knew, you were being lifted into the air, and your legs found their place around his waist. “You sap!”

“Prude.”

“Say that one again, I’m finally going to let you smash, whor—”

He shut you up with a kiss.

It’s a slow kiss, one that warmed you up effortlessly, intimate contact pressing between the two of you, but nervous energy chipping through you fully. Your head tilts to the side, the kiss deepening, and your arms pulling him in closer. The two of you pull away slowly, both of your eyes slowly opening to look at each other in a whole new light and a fire under your skin, and something is silent between the two of you. Growing silently, steadily, and coming crashing down all at once.

“I love you…” Shouto murmurs, and that’s all it takes. The movements are desperate now, his steps quick and steady while your mouth clashes against his. Deep, ardent, fulfilling. You can’t help the nervously aggressive make out, tongues pushing against each out, drawing out noises you weren’t quite used to hearing. Low groans and pants you had known, but never in this context, and you were addicted. But Shouto must be thinking the same thing, for when you finally make it to your dorm room’s door, his mouth trails from your mouth. Sloppy and burning hot kisses trail down your cheek, to your jaw, before pressing searingly against your neck, and you mewl at the feel of his warm lips on your neck. Your eyes fluttering closed when his lips left hot and wet kisses on your sensitive skin.

Your lips met again, and this time you wrapped your arms slowly around his neck, and you pull him impossibly closer. His hands are moving vehemently up and down your back, making you shiver and arch against his traveling fingers. But when his nails glide delicately against an exposed piece of skin on you back, you gasped into his mouth, and the door opened loudly against his need to get to your bed.

A soft giggle leaves your lips when darkness falls against your closed eyes, and your hips shift in your state of need. Only that you weren’t expecting to feel him tremble under your actions or the pleasurable hiss that passed to your lips. your eyes opening to see Shouto’s eyes still closed despite the fact he was walking with you.

“I love you so much,” you whisper into his ear when you pull away from the kiss. Your fingers raking through his hair, your teeth nibbling onto his earlobe, his throaty groan a sign of victory. “Thank you for being wonderful.”

Shouto’s lips are back on yours, greedily seeking more contact, and you don’t hold back as you kiss him back with equal fervor. You feel the mattress of your bed hit your back as you continue to kiss him, sitting up so you could crawl back to let Shouto onto the bed with you. You smile once again as Shouto’s hand rests on the bed frame behind you, while the other one rests on the small of your back, keeping your torsos pressed together.

Your hands are fisted into Shouto’s hair, the small tugs from your hand blazing his own blood, making him press his growing length against your thighs, and his tongue grazes your bottom lip. You moan softly, your head tilting up, and you open up your mouth so that your tongues meet halfway. You start moving to unbutton your graduation outfit, and Shouto hastily pulls away, and your eyes open, his mouth is stained with your the leftovers of your makeup, and he looks concerned.

“Are you sure, y/n?” Shouto asks, his hands stroking your side. His gaze is intense, unmoving, and challenging. “If you’re not ready for this, I won’t be hurt.”

You stared at him, a soft smile coming to your lips as you sit up, making Shouto sit on his haunches while you move to your knees, “I always knew I wanted my first time to be with you, I just wanted the moment to be perfect… and this is perfect to me,” you confess to Shouto, and you watch his eyes soften when you press a soft kiss to his lips.

Pulling away, you stripped of your clothes and dropped it on the floor next to the bed, your breath hitching as Shouto stares at your now only lingerie-clad body, and you blush.

“Shit, you’re beautiful,” Shouto murmurs like a man who had seen something divine for the first time ever.

Your heart roars in your chest, your blood pulsating through your sensitive body while he leans in close. His mouth presses against the swell of your breasts, trailing down to the valley between your mounds. Your body quivers in your overwhelming emotions and sensations. Shouto presses you back onto the mattress, his calloused hands pressing right below your breasts, heating emitting in large waves from both hands, making your mind spin in needy desperation.

“Are you okay?” Shouto murmurs, his lips feeling the gentle movements of your body.

“I am,” you breathe, your eyes shut tightly. You wanted to feel his lips and forget everything else in the world. This was a night of passion, and you’d be damned if your anticipation was going to stop you. “Don’t stop.”

A low chuckle vibrated against his throat, sending gentle waves through you, and you moaned the second his fingers pressed against your breasts. Shouto’s hands worked your breasts tentatively, his eyes studying your flushed face while he kneaded the tender flesh.

“F-Fuck,” you moaned when his finger brushed against your erect and clothed nipple, your hips quivering underneath him.

“Did that feel good?” Shouto hums, and when you confirm his thoughts, coldness hits your chest. Your eyes open to see that he’s discarded your bra and that his lips are millimeters from your breasts. “Do you want me to do more to you?”

The words are curious, but you don’t miss the glint in his eye, but he’s long since knocked the air from your lungs.

“I need to hear your words, princess,” Shouto smiles softly, his warm breath fanning against your erect nipples that cried for attention. “What do you say?”

“P-Please…” you breathe, your body squirming in your denied attention.

“Perfect.”

The feeling of his hot and wet mouth encasing your nipple sent you impossibly over the moon, your body arching off the bed, a lament cry heavy on your mouth while his tongue circled and flicked your nipple. His eyes were on you, you could feel his stare burning into your body, but you couldn’t even see, your eyes closed in your throbbing pleasure.

More, you wanted more.

His finger pinched your free nipple, pulling and rolling the pert skin between his fingers, your wanton cries only fueling him further. Liquid heat coursed through your veins, your pleasurable sensations overwhelming you, and your hips began to hump against his clothed thigh. The friction of his jeans against your barely clothed cunt sending you well beyond the confinements of pleasure.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. “I love you,” he confesses. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats.

Tender and sweet words fill your ears while he switches where his mouth and hands are. The kneading of your breasts, the manipulation of your nipples, and the way his thigh pressed against your throbbing cunt was sending you over.

Your breathing was unsteady, puffs escaping your lips in an overwhelming and failed attempt to calm yourself down. Shouto was on a mission, however, and his mouth removed from your cool breast with a soft pop, your breasts shining with the coats of saliva, and you shivered.

Shout hummed while he lips pressed the sensitive underside of your breasts, and continued downward, gentle after gentle kiss down your torso, until he made contact with your trembling inner thigh.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his fingers toying with the band of your panties. You can barely hear him over the roar of your heart, but you know what he says, and you nod. He smiles kindly, placing one final kiss to your thigh before pulling off your panties.

Instinctively, your legs try to close, nerves firing away, but Shouto keeps your legs wide open, and his mouth lowers towards your dripping cunt. His tongue takes a languid and slow lick. His tongue slipping between your slit and you arch off the mattress. Your eyes fluttering in their battle to stay open, the addicting sensation of his hot tongue against your equally hot core burning you.

Your legs tremble as he thrusts his tongue within your clenching wet walls, swirling in circles and pushing further in. His fingers thrust into you at an amble speed, aiding to your pleasure sent descent on the mattress. On one lick, one godly irresistibly mind-numbing lick, your thighs come crashing against his head. Shouto’s free hand moves to grip onto your trembling legs. His tongue coaxing your orgasm closer to the edge by speaking a language you knew nothing of.

“S-Shouto!” you curse, your hips rolling desperately against his mouth. Your hips were stammering against his compelling tongue.

Your eyes struggle to remain locked on his eyes, your body twitching with the building pleasure. The electricity igniting in your flesh and bloodstream. You can hear the sounds of your squelching pussy against his moving fingers, and your jaw drops. You’re under his absolute control, and you’re no longer able to hold back anymore, your orgasm is right on edge, but you stop him.

“Wait!” you push him off of you, your chest heaving, and the wet arousal pouring from your cunt was slick against his mouth, and confusion evident on his face. “I don’t want to… I want to cum on your cock.”

“Okay,” Shouto pants with amusement, and you watched when his fingers — which were coated in your essence — slipped into his mouth, sucking it clean. The image of that sent electrifying pleasure through you, and your mouth watered at the thought of sucking him off. “What is it?”

“Get up,” you command, your hands moving to remove the belt around his waist, and he was quick to stand on your bed, and you were on your knees. Your knees buck under your weight, and you help Shouto remove his pants. You watch in an almost lusting virgin horror when his cock springs out from under his underwear. The hard cock slaps against his lower stomach, and you take in the way that his cock is thick, with bulging veins, and precum leaking from his head.

There was no going back, it seemed.

Steeling yourself over, you wait for his feet to be free, and the moment he’s out of his jeans, your hands immediately encompass his length. His girth wide enough you struggled to hold it with one hand. You marveled at the way the skin was unearthly warm and impossibly hard in your grip. This is what was going to be buried in your cunt in moments time?

“Y-Y/n…” Shouto stutters as your hand fists up and down his length in initial unknowing movement. Your eyes snapping up to meet his lust covered ones.

“Now,” you sigh as your thumb rolls over the pre-cum that slips from the tip of his head. “You can’t make fun of me if I’m bad, okay?”

Shouto licks his lips, his eyebrow quirking. “I don’t think that’s possible from you, princess.”

You smile softly, but there’s a strong sense of hope when you notice the tremble in his legs, “We’ll see!”

Licking your lips, your mouth opens, and you let the head of his cock press pass your lips. The dark pink head is hot in your mouth, and your tongue presses against the flat of his head, swirling your tongue around, testing his reaction. By the fluttering of his eyes, and the way that his hands seem to fight whether they should latch onto your hair, you reckon it’s okay.

So, you push on ahead, moving further down his impressive cock. His girth so full you had to open wider than you were used to. You gasp as you push him further down your throat. Your eyes flashing up to see Shouto struggling to keep his head down and eyes on you.

Good god, you pray you were wet enough to take him in without lube.

Your mouth sinks down as far as you can go while not choking yourself. Your fingers trailing up and down his toned thighs as you move your head up and down his length. You’re now in a smooth rhythm, bobbing up and down on his cock with enough vigor to make Shouto praise your name.

Your movements signal to Shouto that he can move as well. Shouto groans, and his hips move forward. You relax against his rocking hips, you’re focused on your breathing as his cock moves up and down your throat. Deeper and deeper, you feel his cock move within you. His hand pressing against the back of your neck, and you gag softly against his length.

Your eyes look back up to see Shouto’s eyes closed. Moans and pants spilling out with every thrust, and your cheeks hollow out. Creating a vacuum sensation against his length.

“Oh shit!” Shouto snaps. His hands tangling within your locks as he struggles to not overwhelm you. “You’re amazing, of course, you would be good at this,” he gasps as his cock only goes further down your throat.

You struggle to breathe with his thrusting. His snapping hips overwhelming you with their speed and depth. He’s distracted while he fucks your throat, but you’re even more desperate to keep up. Uncaring about the burning sensation erupting through your airway as he continues at his strength and speed. Your tongue swirls around his thrusting cock. Trailing against his veins as his hips stutter, and your teeth dragging against the sensitive skin.

You moan against his length. The action allowing you to gain more air and sending a loud moan from Shouto’s mouth as his pace increases.

His hips abuse your throat, and you’re delighted in the fact that you’re keeping up. The soft gags that occasionally slip from your mouth, stirring him on. He’s sinful yet heavenly in your mouth, and you want him in your dripping cunt. Your thighs shaking with the mere thought of him having his way with you.

He pulls his length away from your mouth. Your saliva stringing between your mouth and his still erect cock. You cough as you try taking in the air again, the lack of oxygen had been ignored as your pleasure was so high.

“N-Not yet,” Shouto staggers, and you nod in agreement, watching him sink back to the bed.

“Take it off,” you mutter tugging at the hem of Shouto’s t-shirt, and he moves to take it off.

With your teeth tearing into your lower lip, you watch him remove the dark shirt. Shouto’s body had to be a sin while you stared at the rippling muscles on his body, something you had never truly appreciated before. They moved with his body, the faint scars littering his body for you to kiss and count later.

Tone and lithe. He was beautiful.

Shouto’s lips are back on yours as you kiss deeply, your head tilted to the side as his fingers gently grasp your chin. A shaky moan leaves your mouth at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue, and Shouto moves his body so that you’re now on your back. The tips of your aroused nipples brush up against Shouto’s naked chest, and both of your release a throaty gasp as you pull him closer to you.

Your bodies were overshot with denied pleasure, and the mountaining need for more was finally being addressed.

Your leg hooks lazily around Shouto’s waist, and a sigh leaves your lips as Shouto gently grasps the back of your leg, running steady, consistent strokes from the end of your thigh to your ass.

A fire is building up in your gut as your hands work their way down to the buttons and zipper of his pants. His hands gripping your waist, and you could feel Shouto’s arousal pressing against your stomach, hot and throbbing with need. You pulled away from Shouto and giggled as he attempted to follow you with closed eyes as you had to brush your hair out of your face, suddenly feeling hot.

“Y/n…” Shouto just about whined, and you smiled softly at him, finding it endearing and the slightest bit hot when he used that tone.

His hands were on your breasts, slowly stimulating your aroused nipples as he slowly massaged them, making sure to brush your nipple with his thumb every so often, and your head tossed back as you bite down hard on your lower lip. He once again kissed you ever so lovingly, and you felt him pulling away to line his cock with your entrance. You watch with hooded eyes as Shouto presses the head into you, teasing the both of you to extreme lengths, and you wantonly sighed.

You rest on your elbows, a smile on your face as Shouto moves his messy hair out of his eyes. As you stare at his slightly sweaty face covered by strands of different colored hair, your heart just about bursts.

“Make love to me, Shouto,” you say aloud as Shouto stares at you, his cock removing from your entrance and carted against your clit.

“I plan on it,” he smiles, and he grabs your ankle, pulling you closer to him, and you shriek with laughter until his lips engulf your sounds. “Are you ready?” Shouto asks once more, teasing your entrance with the tip of his dick.

“Whenever you are,” you whisper into his neck, preparing for the initial pain.

You let out a cry of pleasure and pain as he slowly enters you, and you pant heavily, trying to contain your tears as he manages to push all the way in. Your eyes clench as you bit your lip, your head buried into his neck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry as he stretches you out. Shouto is panting too at the feeling of your tight walls clenching against him, they’re unable to relax against his cock. It’s not until the head of his cock hits the wall of your cervix does he stop, and even then he’s not entirely in you.

Your breathing is harsh, and you feel like you’re sweating as you look down at the now joined body. The feeling of him entirely in you makes your head spin, the pressure in your lower belly could be from just Shouto within you or from your slowly growing orgasm, you had no idea.

“Are you o-okay?” Shouto stutters very clearly still adjusting to having his cock in you.

“Yeah, just… trying not to die,” you manage to croak out, and eventually, you collapse onto the bed, looking up at Shouto, who seems to be concentrating hard.

“You’re just super t-tight,” Shouto gasps as you wrap a leg around his waist.

It’s a good move, but it’s too quick as a sharp pleasure pained fire shoots through you as you slam your forehead against his shoulder.

“Too fast,” you snap in regret you try to calm your head. This was too much for you, you felt like every nerve was firing all at once on your inner wall, and no orgasm had reached you yet.

“It’s okay… breathe...”

It takes a few moments, but sure enough, you manage to raise your leg to his waist, and both of you moan at the new level of penetration and the way it made your walls clench around him. “Move,” you command, and Shouto falls onto his forearms as he nods.

Shouto moves his hips back, and slowly almost painfully slow, returns them to the original position, and even with the smallest movement, a lewd moan escapes your lips. Shouto continues going in and out, his hips slowly moving while you start to meet him with every thrust.

Whispers of encouragement escape both your lips as his slow thrusting continues.

Shouto picks up your legs so that they’re both wrapped around his waist, and he comes to lean over you. At the new angle, your head is thrown backward, and you let out a string of soft curses. “Shit, that feels so good,” you cry out in encouragement as you bit down on your lip harshly.

Your lips are soon sought after by Shouto’s as sheen layers of sweat cover both your bodies as the consistent moving of both your hips never falters.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit, you feel so good,” Shouto grunts, his hips picking up in speed as he drills into you faster, the sound of your meeting sweaty bodies echoing in your room.

Soon you can hear the sounds of your bed hitting the wall, and a cry escapes your lips as Shouto’s finger grazes your clit.

“Say my name…” Shouto grunts as he presses harder on your clit, and you can feel the coil within you getting tighter, but at the moment, all you can give is wordless cries. “Say it, y/n.”

“S-Shouto!” you scream out as you shake with an overwhelming need to climax, but Shouto’s finger leaves your clit and goes to keep your hands above your head.

“Are you enjoying this?” Shouto teases as he slams into you at full force again, your cunt tightening sinfully against his length, electricity coursing through your veins while you cry his name. “You’re so good, shit.”

“Oh my god, yes, Shouto!” your voice splutters, and his hands leave your wrist to gently pinch your nipple and clit. You go speechless, and your mind spins as he pulls one of your legs onto his shoulder, and all you can do is let your jaw drop as the new position lets you see stars.

You couldn’t take the feeling of how his body moved entirely within you, the strength and power behind his every move were almost too natural as if this was an everyday thing. You let out noises similar to a purr, grinding your cunt against his conquesting cock and laughing breathlessly at his low groan.

“You like this, princess?” Shouto nips at your throat, his thrusts making you shriek out his name as he buries you further into the bed, your nails digging into his flesh at the back of his neck. You nod rapidly, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your pants tumbling from your mouth. He wasn’t going too fast, just fast enough to have wet smacks echoing through the room, but every thrust seemed to have his cock being pulled out of you nearly completely. He pulled out entirely so he would have the ability to drill back into your wet cunt. The noises of your connecting wet sex left loud echo with your squelching pussy around his hot cock.

The muscles on his back seemed to flare dramatically, your screams turning silent due to your approval of this.

“I needa cum,” you shriek, the fire in your face as bright and hot as the one between your legs. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours, and his lips recapture yours.

Your mind goes blank when a mighty crash goes through you. But Shouto must not have felt the spastic vice-like clamping of your inner walls as he continues pistoling his hips into you, hitting your cervix, and pushing it further up with every slam. You cry against his mouth, your hands shoving at his shoulders as the feeling of your orgasm was too strong to deny, and he slips out of you.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he moans, his mouth connecting with your breast, and once again slams into you.

Your scream is silent, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his neck, and your toes curl. His hips are driving, persistent, and have a goal in mind. You can barely keep up with him, your long overstimulated body wanting to collapse at the seams, but he doesn’t stop.

The bed creaks loudly under you, headboard crashing into the wall, over and over again.

“Cum, baby,” you beg, your hips wildly thrashing against his. “Cum..”

That’s all it takes, and a hot and heavy load shoots through you, and Shouto collapses onto you at the same time the bed falls. Neither one of you reacts as gravity shifts you both slightly downwards, but your mind is too full of Shouto to care. His body twitching while his cock remains hard within you, the feeling of his cum swimming in your cunt, making your head spin with euphoria.

Drowsiness hits you quickly, and Shouto’s body heat is quickly putting you to sleep.

He pulls out of you gently, and the feeling of his cock no longer in you makes you whimper, your nose burying into his neck as he flips the two of you over so that you’re laying on his chest. His hands send warm and cooling waves through your body, helping soothe the aches in your tired body.

“That was…” you mumble, your mind unable to think straight.

“Something?”

You snort, your head nodding.

“Yeah… something…”

“I love you, y/n,” Shouto whispers against your temple, and you sigh, contentness and warmth flooding your aching body.

“I love you, too.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years ago

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Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu x reader (fluff + angst) - (COMMISSION)

When I get a commission that isn’t Danganronpa related, I keep the client’s name private and switch names and some paragraphs around to fit a Danganronpa character so you all can enjoy it. This commission best fit Fuyuhiko’s personality, so here you are - Admin Kokichi

SFW, gender-neutral reader

I walked through the halls of Hope’s Peak Academy, still toweling off my scalp after a shower in the gym’s locker room. Heavily I sighed, thankful for the much-needed sustenance that was soon to come when I finally reached the cafeteria. Sport after sport, activity after activity, it really wore the body out. Hope’s Peak really stressed the importance of the Ultimate-level students honing their skills. That’s why we were there, after all. Yes, we took general education classes like any normal student, the basics like the many different types of mathematics, general art, history, government, sciences and all that, but each student in the Main Course had several hours a day blocked out of their schedule dedicated to their specific talent and that talent only. It was rigorous, obsessive, and exhausting.

At times like this, I envied those who sat down for their talent, like animators and gamers, for I, the Ultimate Athlete, was always on my feet. Not that I’m saying art and gaming don’t take a lot out of those students, I just wanted a break from physical exertion once and awhile. My brain wasn’t stimulated quite as much as I’d like. Even the other athletes, like Aoi Asahina, the Ultimate Swimmer, and Akane Owari, the Ultimate Gymnast, had one set training area, and trained one sport for long sessions during the school day. As the all around Ultimate Athlete, the administration of Hope’s Peak had me training lots of different sports and exercise methods in short bursts. This meant running across campus from the pool to the dojo, from the gym to the baseball field, from the wrestling mat to the biking trails. Every day, a different muscle was sore, but I suppose I can’t really complain. It is an honor to be selected to attend Hope’s Peak. I mean, there were hundreds of regular students paying extraordinary rates to attend, just to be mocked and berated for being Reserve Course students anyway. I was lucky to have been chosen as the Ultimate Athlete at all, considering they already had so many types of athletes here. I think the appeal of my talent was that instead of being the best at one sport alone, I was above average at every single sport there was. Well, there was no use wasting time dwelling on my burnt-out body, because immediately after lunch, I was expected back at the gym with no delay. The longer this walk took, the less time I had to eat.

Picking up the pace, I sprinted - something I excelled at - through the courtyard that connected the Reserve Course and Main Course wings for what was a well-known shortcut to the cafeteria. Reaching the other side, I slowed my pace, my eyes landing on a curious scene that caught my attention. Three Reserve Course girls - distinguishable by the ash-black of their identical uniforms as opposed to the customizable (and optional) Ultimate uniforms - were whispering in hushed tones in front of one of the cream-colored pillars of the courtyard surrounded by some well-tended flowers. They trembled slightly, a bit jittery it seemed, and were clearly gossiping profusely like the gaggle of hens they resembled. There was malice and fear in their expressions as they looked back and forth from the object of their scrutiny then back to each other to deliberate and discuss. My eyes followed their line of sight to the opposite side of the courtyard, where the pond and benches sat. Of course, it was him. How did I not notice him as I passed by from that end? I must have been in some hurry.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, the Ultimate Yakuza, sat on the ground leaned up against a wall on the opposite side of the courtyard, scrawling notes into a notebook in his lap. His brow was creased, fairly engrossed in his studies. I could tell he heard the girls chattering, they weren’t being subtle and weren’t very far away, but Fuyuhiko was paying them no mind.

“Do you think his dad threatens the teachers if they give him a bad grade?” A blonde gasped, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

“Probably, I wouldn’t put anything past that clan of brutes,” another plain-looking girl whimpered in reply.

I stopped to watch the situation play out, hiding behind a nearby pillar and ready to step in if it continued, as rumor-spreading bullies were something that I just couldn’t stand by any means. I knew Fuyuhiko could handle himself… err… maybe I was just being a bit nosey to be honest.

After a few more minutes of the clique getting louder and bolder with their insultingly toxic babble, I saw Fuyuhiko’s head snap up, throwing them a pointed glare. The flock gasped in unison, with looks of horror on their faces, and scrambled away past me and into the hall. I smirked merrily: now that reaction was the more typical one. I was just thinking how brave these girls must have been to be provoking a Kuzuryuu in the first place. Many people in the school, and just the country in general were terrified of them. I myself felt a bit indifferent about Fuyuhiko. He was in my home room and never caused trouble.

The Kuzuryuu Clan was the largest and most powerful Yazuka clan in the country, with ties to national governments, huge drug rings, and a hand in many influential corporations throughout the country. People knew to fear them and not to mess with them, like any gang. Fuyuhiko was the only son of the head of the clan, and next in line as its leader, but if you’d spoken more than two words to the guy, you’d see that it was wise to respect him, but there was no need to fear him. In fact, his little sister Natsumi, who terrorized the Reserve Course girls, probably was the reason Fuyuhiko’s reputation around the school was smeared by association. People saw her bitterness, her jealousy, her need to harass or threaten anyone who she felt inferior to, her horrible attitude, and probably transferred that fear over to her older brother, thinking the siblings must be similar. It was just ridiculous. If anything, he was an asshole at times, but not dangerous.

Plus, how could someone be afraid of a guy who looked like that? Fuyuhiko was both adorable in some ways, and handsome in others. His cute side came out through in his meager height, the way his pale skin blushed easily when flustered, the softness of his blonde hair, the small pout he wore at times. He didn’t even have ink yet like most Yazuka. His skin was milky and untouched. On the other side of the spectrum, he was handsome and manly in the way he spoke, the elegance of his expensive suits and ties, his intelligence, the way he carried himself, his sharp and intense gaze. I always thought it was more reasonable to be attracted to him rather than afraid.

He did have a bit of an attitude problem, but I often felt bad for him because of it. The quipping, feisty exterior he presented was clearly a coping mechanism, a method of self-defense after years of pressure to be a pillar of his family and being misunderstood by his peers. It probably wasn’t easy to be expected to watch or even perform drug deals, interrogations, or even murders - who knows? Then after all of that, you come back into normal society and get judged for being tiny with a baby face behind your back while people are scared of you to your face.

He projected the anger he was taught was normal, and used the years of being raised in the Yakuza to adapt and mold his personality. He often cursed out or blew up at others, was stubborn and hard to work with, did his own thing, and despite how well he thought he hid her, his personal bodyguard being around the corner ready to kick someone’s ass at a moment's notice deterred many potential friendships. Most of our home room were friends with him, but I rarely talked to him. I really only made myself known to a few of the quieter kids in our class like Komaeda and Tsumiki, even Peko herself at times… but other than them I mainly kept to myself.

I just wished…. he’d talk to me first. I was desperate to get to know him without the fear of feeling like I was bothering him.

Ok, so maybe I wasn’t as indifferent as I let on before. Now that I’ve given myself away, I suppose I’ll just say it:

Yes, I was a bit biased on the topic of Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu because… I had a massive crush on him.

And it was hard, so very hard to see him in class everyday, at the dorms, around campus, and not be able to make those feelings known. I couldn’t tell if it was fear of judgment, fear of rejection, fear of him just cussing me out until I pissed myself, maybe a mix of all three? But now we were alone… save for Peko, who was undoubtedly spying from somewhere close by. Why should I care what anyone thinks? I was sure he’d never tell anyone if he rejected me anyway. He wasn’t the gossiping type, and he only told people what he needed them to hear. Steadying myself, I took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the decorative colonnade. As I shakily stepped across the grass, lunch became the last thing on my mind, and I approached him. He didn’t even look up until I began to speak, cowardice lining my tone.

“H-hey,” I mumbled, towering above him like some weirdo. He squinted in suspicion, a small pout settling onto his lips as he silently acknowledged me. “Are you studying?!” I yelled more than spoke, my nerves taking hold. He rolled his eyes, holding the notebook up with one hand. I couldn’t help scanning him, taking in the way the sun bounced off the yellow fluff of his buzz cut, the way his chest heaved slowly, the cute little mole under his bottom lip. I was sweating, wondering if Peko would knock me out for getting too close, but also entranced in his hazel eyes.

“What does it look like?” He huffed, irritated by my very presence. He probably came out hime to be alone, after all. Now he had to deal with me right after those insufferable girls.

“Ah, haha, yeah, well anyway, I wanted to say that those girls were obnoxious and wrong. You shouldn’t let their words get to you. They’re meaningless. Y-you shouldn’t care about what they think. I-” I spoke quickly, nervously, and he parried my words instantly, tired of me wasting his precious time.

“I don’t give a shit what they think. Since you’re such a fuckin’ creep and were apparently watching the whole time, you must have seen me scare them off, yeah? I obviously don’t care, and I don’t need some rando to come give me a fuckin’ pep talk! What do I look like to you, some fuckin’ kid that got his feelings hurt by some bullies? Fuck those bitches and fuck you! If that’s all you had to say, get lost,” he spat, and I flinched backwards. He was feeling vulnerable, and biting back was the only thing she knew, like an abused dog lashing out at its rescuers. I knew not to take it personal, that Fuyuhiko sometimes said things he didn’t mean out of anger. I knew all of this, but I was still taken aback and thoroughly intimidated. Almost as soon as he’d snapped at me, he settled back into his calm studying, opening the notebook again. That was Fuyuhiko, a little ball of rage that could be turned on and off like a switch.

“Well, I, um-” I cut off my own words, swiftly turning on my heel and marching out of the courtyard, clutching my bag like it could save me from this humiliation.

“Fuck… I’m such an idiot.” I shook my head, involuntarily replaying my blunderous attempt to ask Fuyuhiko out in my head over and over again. Could it even be called that? I mean, I didn’t even get to the asking out part before I made a complete fool of myself and pissed him off. I was now rushing through the corridors of the first floor, trying to make it to what was my last class of the day after a very short lunch and some extremely demanding training. The gardening class was mainly unsupervised and casual, but I hated the feeling of being technically late nonetheless.

The term “class” is used loosely hime. At Hope’s Peak, each student was required to choose an elective course that “gave back” to the community or school in some way. It was thought to boost the school’s reputation, along with the student’s resume. That was the sentiment the school held, anyway. Some students volunteered at local retirement homes, some, like the eccentric Gundham Tanaka, lead clubs that tended to rescue animals and raised them. Others tutored exchange students in Japanese, some did maintenance around the school to earn the credit. I chose the gardening club, where students would break up into little groups and tend to all the plants, flowers, grass, vegetable gardens, and courtyards on and around campus. Sometimes we even took “field trips” to tend to other local greenery. I found it to be the most calming and quiet option of all the electives. There was very little human interaction, and it was satisfying to see the (literal) fruits of your labor grow.

Today I would be tending to the garden in the secondary courtyard behind the school. This one was more hidden away, rarely ever used, and that’s what I loved about it. But… as I turned the corner, my box of gardening supplies in hand, I froze dead in my tracks, shuffling back to hide behind the cover of the wall.

Fuyuhiko was sitting there on his hands and knees, pruning weeds from the garden. The coat of his uniform was discarded, and she sat in only his slacks and a button up dress shirt with a tie. He had little towels folded up as make-shift knee padding, green gloves on, and was leaning into his work with such fervor.

What?! I screamed internally, panic taking hold of me. I had been a member of the gardening club for months, and not once had I seen him on the class roster or in rotation. I’d been to every station, been assigned every task at least once, and I’d never been paired with him. So of course, on the day I was thoroughly humiliated in front of him, here he was, ruining what was supposed to be the most relaxing part of my day. I considered leaving, simply lying about my hour of gardening time on the school’s check-in portal, but something in me told me to stay. I sat there, fighting with myself, nearly collapsing with anxiety, and then he began to speak, tearing my from my thoughts:

“Now now, how are you gonna grow big and strong if you keep lettin’ these little punks fuck you up like this…?” He huffed, almost fatherly in his tone. I peeked around the corner, wondering who the hell he was talking to. Maybe this shift wouldn’t be so awkward with a third party to distract me from him, I thought, but when I hazarded a glance, not a soul was in sight, save Fuyuhiko. Taking a closer look, I noticed his calloused hands nestled around the leaf of a plant, and he tsk’d, observing the bite marks left by pestiferous insects and small animals. He was talking to the plant?! My cheeks started to warm up, my heart melting at the realization.

Fuyuhiko began to hum, then to sing softly, a lullaby of sorts for this injured little green darling. Holding my breath, I nearly crumpled against the wall, feeling my flush spread from my cheeks to rush throughout my entire body. This is so fucking cute, I thought to myself, glancing once more, perhaps a bit riskily. I was getting greedy, greedy for even a glimpse of seeing him in the state of happiness I knew he deserved. I couldn’t care less if Peko was sneaking up behind me with a bamboo sword at the ready.

When I looked, he was smiling, truly smiling. I’d never seen him smile like that before, a smile birthed out of an innocent and serene joy, and now I never wanted it to stop. There was no way I was turning back now.

I took a few steps back down the hall, then stomped loudly toward the courtyard, allowing him to save face by thinking I had only just approached. I knew I would be in for quite the sour retaliation if he knew I had caught him singing. He may have even gotten up and left. He looked up, still leaned over his plants but now dead silent as I entered, and when he realized who I was, his breath caught in his throat. Another expression I rarely saw from him: one of being caught off guard.

“Hey… so, I didn’t know you were in the gardening club? I’ve been in it since the start and I’ve never seen you.” I set down my box next to him and pulled out some gloves. I was hoping that acting like earlier never happened was the best course of action. Something can’t be awkward if it doesn’t exist, right? Luckily, he played along… or rather, just didn’t bring it up, either.

“Uh, yeah. I was hoping to avoid all the bullshit of the whole, volunteer-but-not -actually-because-it’s-a-requirement class thing altogether. I just don’t have time for this shit, but my academic advisor caught on and forced me into gardening. It was the last one with spots left open…” he grumbled, as if he weren’t absolutely loving it mere moments ago.

“Huh… and they aren’t penalizing you for, you know, losing all those points from the first few months you missed?” I inquired bravely. Maybe those girls were right earlier about his father threatening professors…?

“Nah, I guess not. My advisor is super chill. She worked something out…”

“That’s lucky…” my words trailed off, and we both got to work. The longer the silence grew, the more the awkward energy imposed itself on both of us. I could tell that he was thinking back to our earlier encounter by the way he made eye contact and quickly snatched his gaze away, the way she would open his mouth then close it without a hesitant word.

Half an hour passed, and my nerves were beginning to stand on edge. What was more daunting than being alone with your crush? Being alone with your crush who verbally ripped you a new one that same day.

Now mere inches away from him, focusing in on the same patch of flowers, we both reached for a small watering can at the same time, and our hands touched briefly, fleetingly before he snatched his own back, a shade of pink dusting his soft cheeks. He turned away, embarrassed, but I couldn’t have been more excited by the small interaction. Still, for both our sakes, I felt the need to break the silence.

“You… you seem happier - now, I mean… as opposed to earlier today…” It was time to bring up the elephant in the room. I saw his body tense up, his spine stiffen, and he turned to face me, dirt staining his forearms and a swipe on his cheek where he’d scratched an itch earlier.

“Yeah… I should probably apologize for that, bein’ a dick and all. I was just, really pissed and stressed. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that… it’s just… those stupid, loud-mouth, air-headed-” I saw his fists clench, his gloves squeaking a bit under the pressure. I continued where he left off, not wanting him to force himself to relive the gossip or the anger attached to it.

“It’s fine, seriously. I get it. There will always be assholes like them in the world. I don’t blame you for being upset. Besides, I’m sure it was weird to have a stranger just approach you like that, trying to give you unsolicited advice and bothering you by-”

“Well, you’re not really a stranger, are you? I’ve seen you around plenty of times… and you’re in my home room.” He spoke reluctantly, clearly fighting against the compulsory need to deflect and defend.

“O-oh, yeah, you are. I didn’t think you’d notice.” I felt my heart rate speed up. Of course I’d seen him many times in the back of the classroom, but I had no idea he’d given me even a first glance, much less a second one.

“Of course I noticed. Sports, right? Exercise, fitness, an’ all that?” He nodded, smirking. God, he was so hot… I didn’t know how to contain my excitement. I was trying my best.

“Yeah, exactly. Sports, exercise, fitness. That’s me.” I chuckled a bit, finding myself more and more drawn to him with every second spent in his presence.

“Shit’s cool. I can respect someone who’s disciplined and keeps in shape. I’ve seen a few of your games,” he let slip.

“You have?” I immediately picked it up, a shiver of anticipation running over my skin and setting my pores on fire. Fuyuhiko wasn’t on any of the teams I played for and his Ultimate talent had nothing to do with sports. He wasn’t the type to go watch a sports game for fun, and didn’t have the free time for it anyway.

My eyes widened slowly, and I’m sure he could see the moment I made the connection deep inside myself almost as soon as I’d made it.

That was the day I realized that Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu liked me back.

An obscene shade of red flooded onto his face and his nose scrunched up, his voice cracking as he spoke:

“Stop starin’ at me like that! The fuck’s wrong with you?!”

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tiramisiyu · 4 years ago

Text

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Xia Yan’s Personal Story 3-8 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist | Video

Translated Chapter 3: 3-1 / 3-2 / 3-3 / 3-4 / 3-6 / 3-7 / 3-8 / 3-10 / 3-11 / 3-12 / 3-14

See below cut!

Home

The next day, Xia Yan and I examined the version of the video with no deletions that Tian Xin left for us yesterday.

Xia Yan: The contents of the video with deletions involve four locations: the Stellis Major Bridge, Jinlan Street, Yunxia Mountain, and the Stellis port. And the same person has appeared at these four locations.

As he spoke, Xia Yan pointed at a person wearing leather in the video. He looked to be around 27-28 years old, his hair had highlights, and his clothes were very punk.

MC: This person is…?

Xia Yan: Meng Qishan, a detective who resigned from the profession half a year ago.

Xia Yan tapped open the document he organized before on resigned detectives, then scrolled to the column with information on Meng Qishan.

Xia Yan: Meng Qishan entered the detective profession four years ago. Ever since he entered the profession, his reputation has always been bad. Based on my investigations, he would often use grey or even illegal methods to help his commissioners achieve their objectives.

MC: Grey or even illegal methods?

Xia Yan: The main focus of Meng Qishan’s work was marital status investigations, whereabouts investigations, and background investigations. Based on principle, a detective’s investigation should seek the truth from facts. But Meng Qishan’s investigations revolved around the commissioner’s requirements.

Xia Yan: For example, if a husband and wife’s relations have broken down and they want to divorce, they would typically need to split up their wealth and properties.

Xia Yan: But some want to give less or give nothing the other person, and lessen the other person’s pestering, so they’ll hire a detective to find evidence that they have had an affair. If the other person has not had an affair, some commissioners will require the detective to “create” evidence that the other person has had an affair.

MC: So they’ll use special angles to take very ambiguous shots of typical friend meetups, meals, and accidental encounters, right?

MC: I’ve received cases like this. One side used these kinds of photos to threaten the other side, threatening to not agree to the divorce, wanting to have the other person’s reputation utterly ruined.

Xia Yan: That’s right. Meng Qishan is that kind of detective.

MC: Has no one noticed it if he does this kind of thing all the time?

Xia Yan: They have. Not only has he been noticed, he’s even been sued, but because of insufficient evidence, the prosecution was withdrawn.

Xia Yan: Meng Qishan has a good understanding of the law. He’s very skilled at wandering on the boundaries of law, and he does things that are hard to collect evidence for investigation.

I sighed. These are the so-called people that prove that “criminals who understand the law are more frightening”.

MC: Why did he resign from the profession?

Xia Yan: Because a major scandal broke out, and he offended a client. Half a year ago, he received a commission from a corporation’s senior executive to create evidence that the executive’s wife had an affair. Meng Qishan took photos of the executive’s wife entering a hotel with some male.

Xia Yan: But in court, facing the photos that the executive flung out, the wife testified that the male was her own distantly-related male cousin. No one knew of it because they rarely interacted. The wife used this to harshly recriminate the husband, saying that he defamed her wantonly for the purpose of divorce.

Xia Yan: This matter embarrassed that executive terribly, and his future at the company was also affected.

MC: So Meng Qishan offended his client because of this, right?

Xia Yan: That’s right. This case raised a big fuss, so he vanished without a trace from the detective circles.

So there was a hidden story like this behind the matter.

MC: But why would he appear in this video? Is he related to Sphinx?

Xia Yan: At first glance, there is no relation. But I feel like that wife’s male cousin, as well as the timing and location at which he appeared are somewhat too perfect. It’s like someone deliberately set this up to have Meng Qishan misunderstand and make this kind of mistake.

Xia Yan: “There is inevitability behind all coincidences.”

Xia Yan: I believe that the riddles are just pretenses. There might be another reason behind Sphinx forcing the detectives to resign.

I couldn’t help but remember the opinion Xia Yan had voiced before on Sphinx being like a “vigilante”.

MC: If it’s like what you said before, Sphinx is punishing detectives who behave badly on the regular. Why those detectives who were defeated by him treat this like a matter that has to be kept secret would make a lot of sense.

MC: But you aren’t a bad detective. Why did Sphinx issue a challenge to you? Plus, the riddles he gave you aren’t typical reasoning-based riddles.

MC: This is too weird…

Xia Yan: Mm… I’m guessing that he has other intentions with me. Such as, since I’m the best detective in Stellis City, he’s itching to figure out who’s relatively superior.

MC: … Sure, this reason makes a lot of sense.

Xia Yan: Alright alright, let’s discuss the questions between Sphinx and me later. Let’s continue analyzing this Meng Qishan.

I nodded, turning my gaze back towards Meng Qishan, who was following Tian Xin in the video.

MC: “ɸ” had Tian Xin shoot Meng Qishan in the video, then wanted Tian Xin to delete it – why?

Xia Yan: For this, we’ll have to wait until we find Meng Qishan to find out.

MC: But Stellis City is so large – how should we find him?

MC: Could you be planning to use your privileges to get the police station’s resident data?

Xia Yan: No need. Actually, the video has already given us a hint.

Xia Yan adjusted the video progress back to the place where that person appeared first.

Xia Yan: He’s carrying a shopping bag in his hand, there aren’t many things in it, and they’re all daily necessities. Thus, this place is very close to where he lives. We can use the supermarket on the shopping bag as the centre to draw a circle with a radius of five kilometres.

MC: Five kilometres?

Xia Yan: The scope of a person’s daily activities is three kilometres, but since the location this time isn’t precise enough, I’ve expanded it to five kilometres.

As he spoke, he drew a large circle on the map, using the supermarket as the centre.

Xia Yan: In livestream, the three drawings hinting at Sphinx’s riddle all had the “ɸ” symbol. I’m guessing that this is the information point that the person who set up this matter wants to convey.

MC: Are there any places in Stellis City whose names are related to this character?

Xia Yan did a search on the computer.

Xia Yan: There isn’t – the relation probably won’t be this direct.

Xia Yan: “ɸ” is the 21st letter in the Greek alphabet. It has different meanings in math, physics, and engineering. Magnetic flux, focal strength, Euler’s formula… which meaning is it hinting at…

MC: The “ɸ” was on the drawings. Could it have something to do with the drawings?

Xia Yan: The drawings? Places where “ɸ” can be linked to the drawings…

Xia Yan and I sunk into deep thought for a moment. I looked again at those three drawings hinting at Sphinx’s riddle, each drawing’s composition very well-balanced.

MC: Ah! Xia Yan, could it be the golden ratio!

MC: Look, the compositions of these drawings all use the golden ratio method.

Xia Yan: So that’s how it was - “ɸ” also means the golden ratio in math. The approximate value, using the first three digits, of the golden ratio is 0.618.

I looked for a place relating to 0.618 in the circle indicated by Xia Yan.

MC: A rest station, Yuelai Hotel, Nautilus Bar – these three places’ addresses all include 618. Should we check out each one?

Xia Yan: No, it probably is this place – Nautilus Bar. The cross-section of the spiral of a nautilus’ shell indicates the Fibonacci Sequence, while the ratios of the sequential numbers in the Fibonacci Sequence approach the golden ratio without limit.

MC: So that’s how it was.

Xia Yan looked at Nautilus Bar on the map and frowned slightly.

Xia Yan: Do you still remember how I said last night that I can track Tian Xin’s whereabouts using his phone signal position?

MC: I remember. What’s the matter?

Xia Yan: I just checked Tian Xin’s movement route for today. Ever since a few hours ago, he’s been hovering near Nautilus Bar.

Xia Yan tapped at the keyboard as he spoke. The map immediately displayed a red route line – Tian Xin’s movement route. Just as Xia Yan said, he’d been moving around near Nautilus Bar the whole time.

MC: Could he also be investigating the clues left by “ɸ”?

[Flashback]

Tian Xin: Jeez, this guy. If you’re going to help someone, help them out until the end.

Tian Xin: He clearly had some reasoning methods, but he refused to help me design the riddles. My reasoning is really crappy. Otherwise… Sphinx’s riddles wouldn’t need to be designed that crappily… After that set of videos, people kept spewing hate at me…

[Flashback end]

MC: He clearly kept complaining yesterday about how his reasoning ability was very bad. He shouldn’t have been able to figure out the riddle this fast… Right, is there any overlap between the interpersonal relationships of Tian Xin and Meng Qishan?

Xia Yan: Wait a bit – checking now.

Xia Yan tapped quickly on the keyboard, different webpages popping up and shifting back and forth on the screen. A few minutes later, he stopped.

Xia Yan: Found it – there is indeed one point of overlap. I told you earlier that Meng Qishan received a commission from a senior executive client, to create fake evidence and slander his wife for having an affair.

MC: Mhmm, in this case, Meng Qishan just might have lost all face due to something relating to Sphinx.

Xia Yan: The overlap of Meng Qishan’s and Tian Xin’s interpersonal relations is in this case. The wife of that executive has a blood-related little sister named Han Feifei. She and Tian Xin are childhood friends.

MC: Eh?

Xia Yan showed the information he just found to me. On the social platform, there were a lot of duo pictures of the executive’s wife with her little sister, Han Feifei, as well as duo pictures of Han Feifei and Tian Xin.

MC: Thus, the reason why Tian Xin would investigate Meng Qishan and Sphinx might be this.

Xia Yan: Tian Xin must still be hiding a lot from us.

MC: These hidden things might also be related to Sphinx’s clues.

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: Regardless of if it’s for Tian Xin, Meng Qishan or Sphinx, we have to make a trip down to Nautilus Bar.

#tears of themis #tears of themis translations #weiding shijian bu #xia yan #未定事件簿 #夏彦 #tot translation

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not-oscar-wilde · 4 years ago

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Revived

The apocalypse has been averted, the timeline fixed, and the Hargreeves siblings returned to 2019. Herb decides to do them one more favour and save the life of one Dave Katz.

I wrote a new fic! read it below the cut or on AO3.

The pain in Dave’s chest was unbearable. Klaus was above him and he was speaking, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying. He wanted to comfort him, to stop him from panicking and tell him he loved him, but he couldn’t get the words out. He could only try and keep his eyes open, to keep his eyes on Klaus and try to psychically tell him everything he needed him to know, before the pain won out and everything turned black.

And then he woke up.

Though the room around him smelled sterile, it wasn’t like any hospital or medical tent he had ever been in before. He was lying in a crisp, white bed, with a myriad of wires attached to his body. Some of them he recognised, the IV drips were standard, but the majority were completely alien to him, from those puncturing his skin to those seemingly just stuck to it.

“Good afternoon, Mr Katz,” a smooth, female voice said in an accent that reminded him vaguely of movie stars. But when Dave looked around the room, he was completely alone, accompanied only by strangely flat screens he couldn’t see properly from his position on the bed. “Please remain calm. I have notified our Medical Team that you are awake and someone will be with you shortly.” There was something wrong about that voice, some kind indescribable, minute wrongness that unsettled him.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“You are in the Intensive Care Unit of the Temps Commission Infirmary, Room 9,” the voice said.

The Temps Commission Infirmary? He’d never heard of that hospital, and it definitely didn’t look American or Vietnamese. “The what? What happened? And who are you?”

“The Temps Commission Infirmary, attached to the headquarters of the Temps Commission. You were shot through the chest in A Shau Valley, Vietnam, February 21, 1968. I am VINA, your Virtual Infirmary Nursing Assistant.”

He’d been shot. He remembered it, remembered the pain, remembered the way Klaus had screamed and held him and how he hadn’t managed to say anything before the world had gone dark. What had happened to Klaus? To everyone? “How long have I been here?”

“You have been in the TCICU for three days, six hours, and thirty seven minutes.”

But when he brought his hand up to his chest, there were no dressings, just bare, unmarked skin. If he had been there for six days, if he’d been shot… He should be dead, or at the very least, heavily bandaged. Before he could think too much about that, a door slid open like something out of a sci-fi movie, and a tall, dark skinned woman with a serious face walked in. “Good afternoon, Mr Katz. My name is Doctor Onyeka Nwoye. How are you feeling?” she asked as she approached his bed, examining the screens. If there hadn’t been much stranger things going on, he would have been mildly surprised by a black lady doctor being sent in to treat him. He forgot, sometimes, that not everywhere was like Texas. But he was immensely glad of that fact, particularly if she’d been the one to fix him up.

“I’m good,” he said, and as confusing as it was, that was true. He shouldn’t be feeling good. He’d been shot, and he felt fine. That shouldn’t be happening.

“Any pain?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good, that’s good. VINA, anything to report?”

“Mr Katz has not experienced any physical complications during the healing process. His body has responded well to the treatment and brain scans indicate that no neurological damage has occurred,” the disembodied voice said. The voice that didn’t belong to a person at all, if Dave had understood correctly. VINA had to be some kind of automaton, a computer that could speak. He didn’t much like that.

Doctor Nwoye nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “A complete success, then. I would like to keep you under supervision for another twenty-four hours, but if I have no concerns at the end of this period, I see no need to keep you here any longer.” With that, she set about detaching the various wires from his body.

“Where is here? I know we’re in some kinda hospital, the… Commission?”

“Yes. We are an organisation dedicated to fixing, monitoring, and eliminating timeline anomalies,” she said, as if that made any kind of sense. “And, in exceptional circumstances, minimising potential disruptions.”

Dave frowned, trying to translate her words into something close to regular English. He knew he wasn’t that stupid, but he sure felt it. “So I’m a- what was it? A timeline anomaly?”

“I am a doctor, not an analyst. I cannot tell you who or what the timeline anomalies are.”

“Were you there, when I got shot?” he asked instead.

Dr Nwoye laughed and shook her head. “Oh Lord, no. I do not have the disposition for time travel, and I think my wife would have my head if I were ever to set foot in the field. I work solely from inside the TCI.”

“Your wife ?” he repeated, his heart leaping. This was a woman with a wife. A woman in a world where she could not only love another woman, but marry her and be able to mention it so casually to a complete stranger?

“Do you have a problem with the fact your life was saved by a lesbian, Mr Katz?” she asked calmly, and his stomach sank.

“No, ma’am! I just… Where I come from, people can’t… I didn’t know there was anywhere you could have that kinda marriage.” Was this the future? The place that Klaus had talked about, had said he couldn’t ever go back to? Had Dave somehow ended up there in his place, leaving Klaus in the middle of a war he’d never even signed up for? But that world was ending. Klaus had told him that. So how was he here? “I was just surprised is all. I’m… you know, the same typa way.”

The slight smile returned to the doctor’s face, and Dave relaxed. “It was 1968 you came from, yes?” So that pretty much confirmed his ‘future’ theory. Dave nodded mutely. “I cannot say I know why your survival matters so much yet your injury could not have been prevented, negating the need to bring you here at all, but I will say I am glad you are more… progressive than some of your contemporaries. It does make my job easier.”

“Doctor Nwoye, you are needed urgently in Room 14,” the disembodied voice said before Dave could formulate an answer, and the doctor sighed.

“I am on my way. Mr Katz, if you need anything, just ask VINA.” And with that, the bizarre door slid open again and Dr Nwoye was striding away.

The room was silent for a few minutes as Dave thought about this whole situation. He’d think it a fever dream, but he wasn’t sure he was creative enough to come up with all of this. “VINA?” he said eventually, feeling more than a little silly speaking to an empty room.

But the disembodied voice responded immediately. “Do you require assistance, Mr Katz?”

“I…What the hell is going on?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean. Please elaborate or rephrase to receive appropriate support.”

“I got shot . But I don’t even have a scar.”

“You are correct. Do you have any questions about your treatment?”

Dave exhaled shakily and touched his chest again. Even that should have hurt, and though he was incredibly grateful that it didn’t, that fact was in itself unsettling. “What kinda doctor can just make a bullet wound… vanish?”

“Dr Nwoye is an expert in bioregeneration and biotemporal manipulation.”

“Bio… Jeez.” He could guess at what those words meant, but truthfully, he had no idea. It may as well have been another language. Was this the world Klaus had come from? This strange world filled with people and words he didn’t know, where gunshots through the chest were not just survivable but left no mark, where unseen people watched and spoke with you, where a black woman with a wife could be a white man’s doctor. It wasn’t a bad world. It was simply so far from the one he knew.

Some things would always be the same, though: hospitals were boring. Dave was half out of his mind with it, staring up at the ceiling and wishing he had something to do. Talking to VINA was just a little too weird, with her uncannily smooth voice and questionable existence. So he got out of bed, deciding to explore. There were no windows, only artificial lights built into the ceiling. He couldn’t even tell what time of day it was. The room was neither warm nor cold, despite the fact he was wearing only white cotton shorts.

The door that the doctor had come in through didn’t have a handle. Instead, he found a panel of buttons on the wall beside it and pushed one hopefully. With a hydraulic hiss, the door opened and he stepped out into the hallway. “Please remain in your room. If you require assistance, this can be provided. If you are searching for the bathroom, this can be located through the other door within your room.”

It was strange, being scolded by someone - or something - he couldn’t see, and in such a calm manner. But Dave obeyed and stepped back inside the confines of his room. He may as well check out the bathroom if he wasn’t allowed anywhere else.

There were clothes folded up on top of a cabinet next to the shower, accompanied by a ziplock bag of toiletries and a towel. He figured those must be for him. He was about to strip off, out of the plain white shorts he’d been left in, when a wave of self-consciousness overtook him. “VINA?” he said hesitantly.

“Do you need assistance, Mr Katz?”

“I, uh… Are you watching me in here?”

“I am tasked with monitoring all rooms of the Temps Commission Infirmary.”

He’d spent enough time in the military to be comfortable enough getting undressed in front of other men. But in front of a woman? Even if she might be a machine and not a real woman, it still felt wrong, somehow. “Could I get a little privacy?”

“To ensure your safety and the safety of other patients, I am required to observe at all times. Surveillance footage is wiped from my systems after two weeks and is not accessible without appropriate justification from Temps Commission staff.”

That still wasn’t exactly reassuring. Dave couldn’t even see where VINA was watching from, couldn’t work out where to position himself to turn his back. He’d been changed out of his fatigues, so someone had surely seen his naked body here before and there was no guarantee that they were all male, but the irrationality of his desire for modesty didn’t change anything.

She’s seen it all before , he told himself. There must’ve been hundreds of naked people in this hospital. And maybe this is just how things are in the future .

His shoulders dropped under the warmth and the strength of the water. It had been so long since he’d had a really good shower. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had one so good. Perhaps Klaus had had a point, waxing lyrical about the joys of a hot bath.

But then he touched his chest, touched the unblemished skin, and the touch stole the air from his lungs. He could feel it, feel himself being torn apart by the most agonising pain he had ever felt. What was the difference between warm water and hot blood? It all felt the same, running down his skin. Hands shaking, he switched the shower off and sank down to sit on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest as if they could shield him somehow. He wanted his mom. He wanted Klaus. He wanted to be held and told that it was okay, that he was safe.

Eventually, he slowed his breathing enough to realise he was getting cold, the water having cooled on his naked body. He got shakily to his feet and dried himself off before busying himself with getting redressed. He could do this. It was systematic, routine, a way to feel just a fraction more normal, even if the clothes weren’t quite right either.

It wasn’t that he was ungrateful, but he did feel slightly strange in them. The pants seemed too fitted around the legs and a little too short, with rips across both knees. He supposed even in the future, free clothes couldn’t always be new or in best condition. But he’d be able to fix them up easily enough. He’d never been as well-taught as his sister, but he’d been so eager to copy her in whatever she was doing that his mother had decided it was easier to just teach them both.

He wondered what had happened to Marie. How long ago had it been for her since they’d last seen each other?

“Mr Katz, you have a visitor.” VINA’s voice was still startling, with no clear source and no warning.

“A visitor?” he repeated. Who was here, visiting him? Who even knew he was here?

“Would you like to allow them access to your room?”

Dave looked himself over in the mirror. His hair was still damp and the clothes may be strange, but at least he looked decent. He looked normal. He didn’t look like a man who had just been shot.

But he pushed those feelings down, squared his shoulders and kept his head high as he stepped out of the bathroom and back into the bare room. “Yeah, let ‘em in,” he agreed.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. A very short man in a suit and a pair of glasses stepped into the room with an air of someone who didn’t feel quite certain how much space they were able or willing to take up.

“Hi, Mr Katz, right? I’m Herb, I’m, uh, Acting Chair here at the Commission,” the small man said with an awkward wave. “It’s good to see you up and about! And- and the timeline should be safe from any, uh, any attempts at rescue, so that’s a big bonus.”

Dave had resigned himself to the fact that everyone here was crazy. But there was something warm about Herb, something he liked. “Can you explain what’s going on? The doctor, she said something about anomalies?”

“Ah, well, in this case, we’re, uh, preventing a potential anomaly. I’ve seen firsthand what a determined Hargreeves can do, and I figured if we make sure none of them have a reason to go messing up a timeline again, it makes our jobs here easier!”

Dave’s breath caught in his throat. “You know Klaus?”

Herb giggled. “Do I know Klaus? Everyone here knows Klaus, he’s a Hargreeves . But I met him! I mean, I’m basically friends with his brother Diego, so you could say I know him better than most people here.”

Dave could barely hear what Herb was saying. His mind was racing faster than his heart, the use of ‘know’ rather than ‘knew’ enough to sustain him. He was still alive. And even if he was old now, stuck on the slow path through time, Dave knew he would still love him. He would love him until the end of the Earth. That had been a silent promise, as unspeakable as everything that they were, but as real and constant as the sun rising every morning. Forever was too much to vow in a war zone, but the intent had always been there. “Can I see him?”

“Well, that’s the plan!” Herb said brightly. “If you’re willing, we drop you off with him in 2019, there’s no need for any more time travelling shenanigans from the Hargreeveses, and we can all get back to normal!”

Fifty one years had passed. Would Klaus even still love him, after all that time? He almost couldn’t picture Klaus as an old man, not when he was full of so much energy, when he was so childlike sometimes. Was he an old man? Or had he somehow found a way back home before he had the chance to grow old? Back home... “People back home, my family… What happens to them?” he asked.

“Ah. Well, they think you’re dead. And unfortunately, they kind of had to. I’m afraid even if you turn down our offer to join Mr Hargreeves, you can’t go back to 1968. We made sure of that. And ooh, boy, that was a tricky one, but you’re not our first faked death and you sure won’t be our last!” Herb laughed, as if this was normal. As if this was simply how the world worked. And maybe it was. Maybe the world was bigger and stranger than anything Dave had ever seen. Anything but Klaus, of course. He was the maddest, strangest, most beautiful world all of his own.

In his mind, it had been just over a day since he’d seen him. But he missed him as if it had been weeks, months even. Maybe years. Did the ache dull over time? Would Klaus still be missing him as badly as he missed Klaus?

“If you’re, uh, amenable, we’ll drop you off in 2019 as soon as you’re discharged.”

It was a leap of faith into an unknown future, a new world. “I am.”

#also working on a chapter two so stay tuned for that #klave #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #tua #my content #my writing

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mental-mona · 3 years ago

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On Chronic Illness Part 1

You ask me how I'm doing. I plaster a smile on my face, say "Ok, how are you?" and we make small talk. But what I really want to say is, "I feel like crap. My head is killing me and I'm coming off a bipolar episode. Every day is pain. It's making me irritable, and what I really want to do right now is go home and collapse. Now, unless you want to help me in some way, would you please leave me alone so I can do that?" Except that you would be completely taken aback by that and not know how to respond. Unexpectedly telling someone that life isn't so great is not a socially acceptable thing to do; unless the person is a really close friend I'm supposed to just pretend everything's fine as we exchange the usual pleasantries. Besides, opening up and admitting that I'm having issues leaves me far too vulnerable, and who wants to be vulnerable?

If you are more than a nodding acquaintance, at this point you probably stop me and say, "But I do care! I do really want to hear about what's happening with you!" To which my response is, no, you probably don't. If I were to complain to you about how much pain I'm in as often as I want to, i.e. as much as it hurts, you would soon think that I'm horribly whiny and try to distance yourself. If I were to complain about how much this is killing my life and my ability to do anything, you would think that I'm being lazy and self-centered. Maybe I am being a bit self-centered, but let's see how well you function in this position and then we'll talk.

Let me try to help you understand. Have you ever read about spoon theory? If not, read it here. I'll wait. Do you have a little more perspective now? Good. Would you believe that Christine left out a crucial aspect of how spoons work? She touched on it, but didn't go into it. See, I can start off the day with 20 spoons, and then in the middle of the day when I've already used 8 spoons get a wave of pain or a massive mood swing that knocks off 10. Basically what happens then is that either I "borrow against tomorrow's spoons," as she put it, and guarantee that I'll be nonfunctional the next day, or more likely I ask my husband to help me out because there is no way I'm up to making dinner. Also, in addition to every little item on the day's agenda being broken down into multiple spoon-stealing pieces, some tasks may cost more than one spoon. For example, driving to class or work might be one spoon, but spending a day actually in class or at work is more like 5 spoons.

Christine talks about starting off with 12 spoons and making them last through the day, using a somewhat simplified explanation of how every tiny aspect of every task costs a spoon. Personally, due to the need to break everything down and the reasons I described above, I'd be happy if I could manage self-care on a day when I woke up with just 12 spoons, never mind do anything that you'd consider an accomplishment or even just a routine part of normal life. Imagine a day like that, where you wake up with so few spoons that the most you can expect of yourself is to put food in your stomach a few times and maybe change PJs, and that's assuming that the pain doesn't knock you out even worse than it already has. Now imagine an even worse day, one where you're so depressed that all you can do is curl up in bed and cry, or you're paralyzed by anxiety, or you're in such physical agony that you can barely move. What would you do on a day like that? Ask a loved one to come take care of you? Suffer through it with nothing but a water bottle and the tortilla chips you found in that brief moment when you managed to pull it together enough to go foraging? Now imagine having days like that on a regular basis for weeks, months, or even years. Getting the picture?

It's not just the pain itself; it's the emotions that accompany it. If you're male, you've probably been socialized to be a provider for your family and to be stoic about your physical and emotional pain, correct? If you're female, you've probably been socialized that you're supposed to take care of everyone around you, and though you're allowed to be emotional, you're also supposed to be able to move on after a good cry, right? Well, now you can't fulfill either of those gender roles. You're knocked flat, and until your doctors figure out how to cure you or at least get your symptoms under control, you will continue to be out of commission for the foreseeable future. Good luck being stoic about your pain or quickly moving on from it. If you weren't already depressed, you probably will become so now. Think about it: unrelenting pain and debilitation, inability to function as a normal member of society, needing someone or a rotating group of someones to take care of you...for your average fiercely independent adult, this is an incredibly painful prospect in and of itself.

You'll notice that in addition to pointing out how pain can depress you on its own, I've been treating physical and emotional pain as equal in terms of the definition of chronic pain. That's because to the sufferer, they are equally debilitating and feel equally horrible, even if they affect functioning in different ways. If I'm in constant physical pain then my body's run off with my mind, and no matter what my brain wants to take on, if my body isn't up for it then it's not going to happen. If my mood's gone haywire then my mind has basically run off with my body, and I won't have either the energy or the emotional wherewithal to face my life. Please don't brush off my depression or whatever debilitating thing is going on with my mind as me just being melodramatic and/or lazy. The thought of trying to face life is genuinely exhausting and overwhelming; I just can't do it. The thoughts in my head and my screwed up mental biochemistry won't let me.

Similarly, don't write off my complaints of constant physical pain as malingering or melodramatic. It really does hurt too much for me to function, and it really is a constant thing. If I say I can't do something one day, I mean it. I may have a migraine so bad that my head is throbbing in time with my heartbeat and I can't see straight, or abdominal pain so bad that all I can do is double over with a hot pack and wait for it to disappear, or all-over muscle pain so bad that I can't find any comfortable position whatsoever, or all-over joint pain that makes something protest every time I move...the list goes on. Depending on my condition, I may also be completely exhausted and fog-brained.

Remember, these are things that I feel to some extent even on good days when I can more or less function. On bad days I'm completely incapacitated. I've tried to help you understand what I'm going through, but if you've never been mentally ill or in chronic physical pain, you will never quite be able to fully get where I'm coming from. So, now do you see why you really don't want to listen to me complain about the pain as much as it actually hurts?

#text post #long post #chronic illness #chronic illness 101 #chronic condition #chronic pain #explaining chronic illness #explanation #spoonie #mental illness

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worldwidebt7 · 5 years ago

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Hell(L)ing || 01

§ — Pairing: Chimera!Taehyung x Empath!Reader (with mentions of Reader x Other Members)

§ — Genre: SciFi AU, fluff, angst, smut, horror

§ — Wordcount: 3,160

§ — Rating: M

§ — Warnings: Seokjin’s ego...? This chapter is as clean as Jungkookie’s vocals.

§ — A/N: So, this was originally supposed to be for @bang-tan-bitches “Monster Mash Challenge,” but I’ve clearly failed to make deadline for that… There’s just so much more to this story than I had originally anticipated, I even decided to make it multi-chapter! I’ve been in such a writing mood the last couple of weeks. I got like this last year too around this time, which is how this blog even got started. I know you guys are waiting on the next chapter of “Black or White,” but I’ve got a couple commissions I need to get out and I really need to get some of this writing itch out of my system. I know I’m not the best writer, but I hope you enjoy it none-the-less! The first couple of chapters are kind of slow, but I’m trying to build suspense, so bear with me!

Summary: You moved out into the wilderness to live a calm, peaceful life. Your abilities made it impossible to live in crowded places, so even if you wanted to you couldn’t return. But when something happens outside the realm of even your normalcy, you start to think that maybe having everyone else’s emotions bearing down on you isn’t such a bad alternative to being trapped with your own.

The lake house was your sanctuary.

The little house stood within walking distance of the largest lake near your city, and while it was a man-made lake, nothing about the surrounding woodlands was artificial in anyway. Tall trees and greenery stretched as far as the eye could see to the south, east, and west of your home. The north, however, was reserved for the brilliant view of the lake.

From the large wall of windows in your modest A-frame style cottage, each morning you watched the sun flood light over the waters from the east, warming you as you sat in your plush, circular lounge chair with your morning coffee. Each night, the moon sprinkled diamonds across its surface, sending you to sleep with stars in your dreams. Yes, this place was ideal for you in every way— quiet, surrounded by the calm of nature, and, most importantly, secluded. You couldn’t be near people, not because you particularly disliked others of your species, but because it physically hurt you to be among them in large throngs. Some would ask why; why push others away, why live by yourself in the middle of the woods?

It was because you were an empath; a decidedly difficult thing to live with from your experience.

It hadn’t always been as unbearable as it has in your recent years— when you were younger you embraced your gift, loved it even. You enjoyed how special it made you feel and you wanted to share it with others. So much so, that you graduated college and opened up what some would call a ‘spiritual business.’ And, at first, it was wonderful. You were able to help and entertain people with something that came so naturally to you, and many sought you out almost like a therapist. Of course, you were far more successful giving them insights to themselves, as you could read their emotions as clearly as watching television.

Well, of course it wasn’t as simple as that— it was more like feeling an electrical current through your body that was connected to a person’s emotions, and each emotion was laced with a color that would flash across your eyes like pulse. It was honing in on other’s emotions that caused you to shut yourself away as you did. The more you did it, the stronger your gift had become and the more in tune you became with others’ emotional states. When you first began, you would have to hug a person or hold their hand in order to access your ability. Soon, anyone within close vicinity of you was enough to get a read on them.

Now, it was anyone within nearly a 500-foot radius of you would bombard you with their happiness, sorrow, anger, and affection. You had tried your best to manage it— only taking a handful of appointments a day and heading straight home when they were complete. You no longer visited your favorite cafes, went to see a film in theaters, and it had become impossible for you to even go grocery shopping. It was at this revelation, and one too many nights suffering through the spikes of passion during your neighbors’ love-making sessions, that you were forced to move out of the city and into the wilderness.

And, finally, with some peace, you were able to live semi-normally. You missed people, more often than not as it seemed, but you have come to terms with your life. You were no longer using your abilities to do readings or holding technically unlicensed therapy sessions, and instead had somehow picked up writing. You were told that the way you described human emotion was ‘far beyond what a singular-introspect should be able to accomplish’ and you supposed it was because of your once adored gift. And while you were content living in solitude, you relished in the days when you had visitors.

It may not be frequent, but you still had friends that came to visit with you, as well as your editor and a cute delivery guy who brings you your groceries every two weeks. The grocery boy, Jungkook, who’s name you finally managed to pull out of him after three months of seeing his round nervous eyes in awkward silence, was the person you saw most often. At first, you thought it was sad, seeing as he didn’t talk to you at all besides a quick “thank you, have a good day” at the end of his visits before scurrying away, making the only person you saw on a regular basis someone you didn’t even talk to, not that you didn’t try. You could tell he was nervous, uncomfortable around strangers, but there was something else more pungent beneath that kept him wary— fear.

Once he had become comfortable enough to talk to you, he had confided that there were quite a few rumors spreading around about you— the most prominent being that you were a witch. You laughed, though it was not totally far from the truth. He seemed a bit unnerved by your laughter, so you smiled at him and told him that you had once owned a spiritual business and, for the first time in months, offered to give him a reading. He accepted, suddenly less afraid and more curious of you, and the two of you have been friends ever since.

You weren’t supposed to see Jungkook for another week or so, his deliveries come on every first and third Friday of the month, and you normally impatiently wait for his company until then, however, this coming Monday, you were to see your editor, Kim Namjoon, who works for Big Hit Publishing. He was an excellent writer himself, but that never caused any imposition of his own style onto his clients’, which you appreciated greatly.

Now, as you had said before, you were supposed to be getting a visit from Namjoon on Monday, and today was currently Wednesday, so imagine your surprise when a series of emotions enter your senses just after midday, signaling the approach of another human being approaching your door. Brows furrowed, you pluck yourself out of your plush chair and set down the book you were currently engrossed in. You were expecting to have a relaxing, empty day today, but the universe seems to have other plans for you.

The first waves you pick up are timid and non-threatening, so you assumed they were a friendly stranger in need of something. You stood by the door and waited your guest to knock, as you had learned that it was quite abnormal to open the door for someone before they announced themselves. When the rapping at the door finally came, you still postponed opening the door for a beat to make it appear as if you had walked away from whatever you were doing.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you opened the door, coming face-to-face with a tall stranger with plush lips and broad shoulders. You blinked, giving him a once-over. Long legs, toned, from what you could see. A slim, yet sturdy middle that branched out to his wide shoulders which were the perfect podium for the long neck that lead to his perfect face. Dark eyes, straight nose, and, oddly, appealing purple hair. Why purple? You wonder to yourself, but before you can delve any further into that thought a charming smile spreads across his lips.

“Hello!” He chirps in a light tone. You return the greeting, finally broken from the stupor the attractive man had put you in. “I’m Kim Seokjin! I just moved into a house just a-ways up the lake.” He introduced himself as he held out his hand for you to shake. You looked at it warily for a moment before taking it lightly. You have to stop yourself from flinching as another wave of electric emotions filled your senses. Nervousness— from meeting someone new? Fear— perhaps he has heard the rumors about you. And something else… something you don’t have much experience with, so you can’t pinpoint what it is. Over all, nothing too peculiar about this man besides his hair color.

“Y/N,” you managed after you pushed through his sensation of your powers. Seokjin nodded at you as if confirming that he’s learned your name and released your hand, slipping his own into the pocket of his trousers. You shifted a bit, your own discomfort becoming apparent. You weren’t used to dealing with people anymore, let alone strangers. It’s been just over a year since you separated yourself from society, so your social skills were rather impaired now.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” He said cheerfully, and you felt his nervousness fade fractionally. “I just wanted to come meet the only neighbor I have for miles and offer my services!” You gave him an incredulous look, but his enthusiasm didn’t waiver.

“Your services?” You couldn’t help the playful hint that leaked its way into your voice. The man was rather… boisterous, to put it kindly, and he had an air of confidence around him that made you believe he knew how good-looking he was.

“Yes!” He chirped, pulling his hand out of his pocket and holding a small business card out to you. “If you ever need anything, just give me a call!” He grinned down at you and you returned with a pleasant smile, taking the card from him carefully to avoid brushing his fingers with yours. “After all, it’s not often you’ll get a neighbor as attractive as me!” At that, your smile fell and you blinked at him once more with wide eyes. His laughter filled your ears, obviously amused with himself and your reaction, and you couldn’t help the awkward chuckle that escaped you too. How were you supposed to respond to that?

“Uh, yes, well… thank you, Mr. Kim.” You held up his card, forcing a smile his way. You had no idea how to deal with such a man— he wasn’t like anyone you’ve met before. Your friends were confident, yes, but this guys just set a new standard.

“Seokjin, or Jin, please,” he corrected. “Mr. Kim is my father. Or that crazy old guy who’s constantly yelling at youths about laziness and too much PDA. Ah, no, that’s still my father….” At that you gave a sincere chuckle. Giant Narcissistic complex aside, he seemed like a relatively good guy, and with your constant loneliness perhaps it was time you became friendly with one neighbor. It doesn’t hurt that he is, unfortunately, as good looking as he implies. You fiddled with the card in your fingers.

“Seokjin, then,” You looked at the floor shyly. “Thank you.” His grin widens and he nods, putting his hand back in his pocket.

“Of course!” He tilted his head to look around your form and into your home and gave a low whistle. “Nice place! You should invite me over to dinner sometime!” Ah, that ego again. Of course, you could only be so ‘honored’ to have someone as good-looking as him come to your place for dinner. Seokjin’s personality has seemed to break through your walls as you snort at his comment.

“It’s rather impolite to invite yourself to dinner. Maybe I’ll just show up at your place next time,” you joked, giggling a bit, when the air around you turned sour. Panic— panic— panic— he was panicking. Why? It was so strong; why was he panicked? Oh, god it was everywhere, it was suffocating. But as you looked at his face, it was as calm and charming as ever, a kind smile still gracing his pillow-y lips.

“Spare me the embarrassment, please— you wouldn’t believe it with how put-together and beautiful I am, but my home is an absolute disaster!” He laughed, and it was such a stark difference from the emotions radiating off of him that it made your head spin. You schooled your expression though, making it seem as if nothing was off.

“A-ah, I see,” You cleared your throat, trying to extinguish the panic he was pouring into you. “Well, then, if I ever make too much food…” You trailed off slightly, causing him to hum.

“Give me a call! I’ll be happy to eat whatever you have extra!” He took that moment to smoothly end the conversation. “Well, I should head home! Maybe try to get my house into presentable condition.” Seokjin gave a light chuckle before stepped back away from your door and began backtracking. “It was nice to meet you Miss Y/N!” He waved, and you strained a smile before returning the gesture with a small wave of your own.

“You as well, Seokjin,” And with that, he turned on his heel and headed down your driveway to where you finally noticed his sporty little white Hyundai is parked. You watched him get into his vehicle and begin backing out of your dirt driveway before you closed your front door and leaned against it, breathing in your first lungful of unencumbered air now that Seokjin is driving away and taking his heavy emotions with him.

What was that? The moment you suggested visiting his home he put off wave after wave of terror. Was he uncomfortable with people entering his home? No, even if it were a mess, there’s no reason to get that worked up about visitors. Especially since it didn’t seem like he had anxiety. No, it seemed more like… like he had something to hide?

Ah.

You pushed away from your door and made your way back to your chair overlooking the lake, more focused now with your clarity. That ‘something else’ that you hadn’t been able to identify earlier when you first saw him standing in front of your house.

It was deception.

The next two days pass without incident. Seokjin had not stopped by again, nor did you attempt to contact him. After your first meeting, you figured rushing to get to know him may not be in your best interests considering the electric negative emotions he had bombarded you with. Panic, fear, anxiety— all leading to the revelation that he was hiding something from you. Still, he didn’t seem like a bad person.

This was one of the rare times where you were getting two very different readings and felt as if you couldn’t completely rely on your gift. Usually you were able to weed people out easily— both a blessing and a curse— which is why you only have a handful of people you actually trusted. This one, however, was quite confusing…

“Kim Seokjin…” You muttered to yourself, tapping your pen against your notepad. You had been trying to jot down notes for the next book you were planning, but all you could think about was Kim-fucking-Seokjin.

You groaned and tossed your pen onto the kitchen table. You had decided to work there today since you couldn’t seem to get anything done in your office yesterday, but as it turns out it wasn’t the setting that was bothering you, but your mind. Of all the times to have writers block, it had to be now— the weekend before your meeting with Namjoon to discuss the proposal for your next book. You had just about everything you needed, except how to start it. Endings were always your strength; your novels always started with the ending and you worked your story backwards. Beginnings were always slow and uneventful; they were so tedious to get through with character introductions and setting descriptions. Ugh. Torture.

With a huff, you gave up, pushing away from the table and standing up. Your gaze drifted over to the lake; maybe some time out of the house would help clear your head. Taking your socks off before you can have second thoughts, you tread to the glass door leading out to your backyard. You quickly make your way across your patio and on to the lush green lawn, the blades of grass tickling your feet as you strolled down, down, further down until the grass ended and sand began. Your stride didn’t stop until your toes touched the cool water and you bend over to roll the sweatpants you’re wearing up to your knees in order to take a further step into the lake.

A relieved sigh slipped through your lips as you tilted your face towards the sky and let the warm breeze caress your troubled body while you thought. You hadn’t had an issue with reading someone like you were having with Seokjin in quite some time, and it was bothering you more than a little bit. Your instincts were telling you that he was good: kind, silly, and a little [read: a fuckton] egotistical. But your readings… they were throwing you off entirely. Your gut or your abilities— which one do you rely on in this situation?

Splashing in the water to your right breaks through your thoughts and you whip your head around to see what it is. At first, you didn’t see anything; the splashing sounded a bit further away from your current location, but the serene quiet that lays over the lake like a delicate shroud allows sound to travel. You focused, straining your eyes to try and pick out any detail that doesn’t belong to the scenery, until a small figure appears in the distance.

‘It’s… a boy?’ Curious. Seokjin said he moved in just up the lake, but, to you, this doesn’t look like your new neighbor. To start, this man had dark hair, and while Seokjin’s purple hair wasn’t particularly bright, you’d still be able to differentiate the splash of color against the natural scenery. Another thing was he was staring right at you, and yet made no move to greet you in any way. You shifted under his stare— it was unnerving to say the least, and it didn’t help that he was far enough away that your empath capabilities couldn’t pick up on his intentions.

So, deciding to end the uncomfortable stare-down, you lifted a hand to wave at him silently. The boy did nothing in return; in fact, if you had to guess, he hadn’t even blinked either. You slowly retracted your hand and began chewing on your bottom lip as another revelation hit you. Seokjin didn’t mention anything about a roommate, and everything on this stretch of lakeside property was private property. You certainly hadn’t seen him before, and so begs the question: who is this man and where did he come from?

Suddenly, the man’s attention was caught by something else, his head snapping towards the trees. For a moment, he did nothing else as you continued to scrutinize his every move. However, he only looked at you once more before turning fully to the trees and striding quickly into them with purpose. You stared in unrestricted wonder at the spot he had just been standing, before turning and walking back inside your house, locking all of your doors for safe measure.

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reddie-fangirl24 · 4 years ago

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The Wedding Date (A Reddie Crossover)

This was a commission from @memory-vacant. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR COMMISSION! I hope you enjoy the story.

Richie could not believe it. His little sister was married. After a moment of hesitation on whether or not she was ready to get married, Richie convinced her - with help from Eddie luckily. To think this morning Richie sought nothing about love. And yet in so little time he actually felt like he was falling for Eddie.

All this was supposed to be a facade so he’d get his sister to stop nagging him. But as he was holding Eddie’s hand throughout the entire ceremony, Richie slowly crawled back into that annoying turtle shell of his and shoved his hands inside his pockets.

To get away from all the festivities for a bit, Eddie and Richie explored the house. Eddie liked to talk. The moment he showed up he was blabbing his ear off. At first, Richie didn’t pay much attention to him, but upon listening to him talk more about his overbearing mother and this awful woman, Myra he was set to marry, Richie felt bad for him. For most of his life, Richie was alone. Despite being with someone, Eddie felt alone, too.

Finally, they showed up in his parent’s bedroom. Richie would have taken Eddie to his old bedroom but his parents turned it into a regular guest bedroom since he moved out when he was eighteen. He wondered what Eddie would have thought of all the posters of comedians that he had on the walls along with the wacky wallpaper design he chose.

If he was lucky, maybe he could get him to come back to his apartment. What? In L.A?? They were in Maine, and Eddie lived in New York. That was only in his dreams.

Just like that, they flopped down on the bed in humorous positions. Weddings were exhausting.

For a few minutes, neither spoke, each dwelling in their own thoughts. Richie wondered if Eddie was aware of how close they were to cuddling. He wasn’t used to physical affection like a simple pat on the back. Just the thought of cuddling up with Eddie right now made Richie’s heart race. Did all this really have to end in a half-hour when he and Stanley would get in the car and drive away - back to L.A., the other side of the country?

“I feel like I have been talking the whole time,” Eddie said, interrupting the silence.

“Huh? What?” Richie asked coming out of his thoughts. He’d been staring at a crack on the ceiling. How long had that been there for?

Eddie turned so he could face him more. There was that sad look in his eyes once again. It was oh so reminiscent of looking at himself in the mirror.

“I feel like I barely know you.”

“What? My boisterous attitude wasn’t enough?” Richie joked, propping himself up on the bed with one elbow.

Eddie stared into his eyes, searching for answers as time was running out. “Tell me fun facts about you.”

“Uh... well, I’m a comedian.”

“I can tell.”

“No, I mean that I am an actual comedian!”

“Like that’s not obvious, I’ve seen you on TV,” Eddie told him, scoffing.

Richie raised his eyebrow, surprised. “You have? Why didn’t you say so?”

“Because I didn’t know if you wanted to talk about that. I like your work.”

Feeling his insides explode from cuteness overload, Richie felt humbled by the compliment. He always worried that he wasn’t doing something right like other comedians. But they all had their own technique, right?

“Do you have any more fun facts about yourself, or you just boring?” Eddie asked with a smirk. He could just feel his warm breath in his face. Sarcasm was their main language. He never thought he would meet someone who shared that in common with him.

“I’m allergic to fabric softener.”

Eddie’s eyes bulged. “What?! Then why are we sitting here? You need to get off the bed before your throat closes up and then you pass out and then we have to take you -”

“Hey, Eds, calm down! I was just messing with you!” Richie told him, waving a handout. He knew he shouldn’t have said that. His breathing was rapid. Eddie took out his inhaler and took a puff.

Richie creased his eyebrow at him. Although Eddie told him that he had asthma, there was something strange about that. The way he choked on his breath reminded him of when he’d get overwhelmed. Eddie never needed the inhaler when he ran. It was only when he was startled.

Not amused at all, Eddie’s whole face flushed red. “You should never joke about medical allergies, Richie!”

“Gee, I know that know,” Richie lightly rolled his eyes.

“You are so infuriating!” Eddie crossed his arms, sulking.

“Well, that’s another fact about me!” Richie laughed. Sensing that he ruined the moment because Eddie had his back to him, he mellowed down. “I’m sorry.”

“Really?”

“I don’t like it when people are mad at me,” Richie told him sincerely, lightly placing his hand on his shoulder.

Eddie turned around, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Seriously? ‘Cause that’s kind of a part of your nature as a comedian.”

“Hey, who says I’m like everyone else? I like to have quiet time whenever I get the chance.”

“You? Quiet time?” Eddie snorted. Embarrassed, his cheeks went red. Richie laughed at the sound, making Eddie join in.

“What’s so funny about that?” he smirked at him as he continued to giggle.

“Because you, Richie Tozier, I cannot see you having a quiet moment in your life!” Eddie poked him in the shoulder. Here’s the side of Eddie that Richie liked. That side was kept repressed. He was fighting to escape so he could live the life that he always wanted. Then again, what was he thinking?

“What do you do on nights you have to yourself?” Eddie asked intrigued, crossing his legs on the bed. Faintly, Richie could hear voices from downstairs. His sister was very excited, laughing. It was his sisters day. Let her have all the attention. He didn’t want to miss her going off in that limo with her new husband.

“I like to cook pasta and sit on my deck,” Richie explained. “Sometimes I think up routines, I read...”

“You read?” Eddie beamed.

“No, Edward Spaghetti, I tare out the pages and throw them to the birds! ‘Course I read!”

“Don’t you fucking call me that!” Eddie warned, though the threat was ruined by a smile.

“I’ve been calling you that and Eds all day. Admit it, you like it!”

They laughed for a bit. This was the most Richie laughed for some time. He felt this feeling that he couldn’t come up with the words to describe it. Yes, he was happy. But his insides felt warm.

Feeling something buzz, Eddie checked his phone. His smile immediately faded. “My ride is going to be here in about fifteen minutes.”

And just like that, Richie’s heart fell into his stomach. He didn’t want this day to end. For some reason, he felt like all this was meant to happen. His sister always said that which annoyed him. All he wanted was to see him happy. She understood him better than their parents, well mainly his dad. But maybe this time he shouldn’t let this opportunity go.

“Eddie,” Richie said, using Eddie’s real name instead of a nickname for the first time that day. Even Eddie was surprised. Feeling his mouth dry up, Richie’s stomach turned. Great, the nerves were going to mess this up for him. “... Do you have to go?”

“Well, yeah, I have to catch the train,” he said, his nose turning up at the thought.

Spotting his hand right there on the bed, Richie touched it. The touch caught Eddie’s attention. He was a bit alarmed. But he didn’t take his hand away.

“What if you didn’t go back?”

“Richie, I have a life in New York. And... I’m engaged.”

“To some woman who you don’t want to marry,” Richie pointed out.

Eddie looked like he was going to disagree, but he was quiet. “It’s not that simple.”

Okay, here it goes. “I think I’d miss you even if we never met.”

The other man was touched by the comment, holding his hand a little tighter. “Aw, Rich. I hate to say it, but me too.”

Feeling a magnet drawing them in, they stared into one anothers eyes, at how close they were to touching. Eddie’s breath was enough to make him go wild. None of them knew who started the fierce makeout session, but they dove into the bed in a matter of seconds with Richie lying on top of Eddie. His lips were soft, like a pillow as Richie planted kisses all around his face. Their tongues mixed around in delight as Eddie wrapped his hand around Richie’s neck, pulling him closer.

As they moaned and kissed more Richie stopped when his hand was about to loosen Eddie’s belt buckle. Time stopped. No, he wasn’t... realizing that he was in the awful town he grew up in, Richie panicked jumping away from the bed.

Eddie was alarmed too, finally realizing what had happened. He was so lost in the moment. This never happened. But he was more concerned about Richie. “Are you okay?”

Nervously tangling his fingers through his hair, Richie didn’t look at him. “Y-You’re right.”

“What are you talking about?” Eddie asked trying to reach out and touch him. He was scared that it was him. Myra was not interested in a sexual relationship. But he wanted one. And this... it felt right.

Trying to fix himself up as best as he could, including his wild hair, Richie raced to the door leading out of the bedroom. Don’t look up at him, Richie told himself feeling his heart cracking in two.

“You’re right. You do have a life,” he uttered brokenly.

Going to argue with him, that was true. What would his mother think of him cheating. On a man. And he could never do that to her. But all of this felt so right. Like it was meant to be.

Richie opened the door and left. “Nice meeting you, Eddie.”

#reddie #it chapter 2 #it movie #commission #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #the wedding date #crossover

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leiascully · 4 years ago

Text

Fic: Five Bets Eliot Lost (Mostly On Purpose) And One He Didn’t (Leverage, OT3, T)

4700/16500 words; T for swearing and references to sex; Eliot and Hardison finally go fishing; read on AO3

Part 1/5: Triple Chocolate Cookies Part 2/5: Three Garlic Pasta Part 3/5: Three Bean Chili

"You know what I was thinking?" Hardison said out of the blue one day when they were between jobs.

"Do I look like a mind reader?" Eliot asked, which gave him a little pang, because it was something his momma used to say.

"I was thinking we never did get to go fishing," Hardison said, ignoring him. "You know, our special little date you set up."

"It wasn't a date," Eliot growled. "It was a regular boys' trip."

"Yeah, you know those are all dates, right?" Hardison drawled.

Eliot frowned. "It's not a date when you eat at the bait shop."

"Oh, you weren't gonna take me to the bait shop," Hardison said. "No sir. We were gonna bring all those fish home and fry 'em up and that's what you were going to feed me. Not some kind of bait shop sandwich with plastic cheese on it, all full of salmonella and what have you."

"You don't know what you're missing," Eliot said, shaking his head. "Eating at the bait shop is an experience."

"It's not an experience I need to have," Hardison said.

"Well, too bad, I guess," Eliot told him, and grinned. "Because we're going fishing."

"That's good," Hardison said, "because I did get us these fishing licenses." He brandished two pieces of paper.

"You paid for 'em?" Eliot asked. Hardison nodded. "Huh. Figured you'd just hack the system or whatever."

"And have you take me on the kind of date where we get arrested?" Hardison demanded. It hit something inside Eliot every time Hardison insisted it was a date. He was going to do his damndest not to think about it, he decided. Hardison was still talking. "I'm not going down because some hat-wearing Game and Fish Commission dude needs to meet his quota for the month. Besides, you're paying for lunch and reels and worms or whatever. Seemed fair."

"That's how I know it's not a date," Eliot said, squinting sideways up at Hardison. "Because when I take someone on a date, they don't pay for anything. It's all taken care of." It was just banter, obviously. He wasn't flirting with Hardison. But they'd always gone back and forth, just normal stuff, because he'd never been able to resist messing with a guy with a brain as big as Hardison's.

"Yeah, yeah," Hardison said. "It's the twenty-first century, man. Everybody splits the check." He clapped Eliot on the shoulder. "Let's go fishing."

"Find us a spot," Eliot told him, and Hardison's eyes lit up a little.

They found a sweet little spot out by the river and set up the folding chairs and the rods Eliot had bought at the bait shop. He could have rented them, but maybe if they owned the damn things, he'd be able to talk Hardison into going fishing again. They rarely got the chance to spend time together, just the two of them. Eliot had spent pretty much his whole childhood hanging out down at the river with the boys. It was nice to feel like he could salvage some of that with Hardison.

"We are eating whatever is in those takeout boxes before I'm touching any worms," Hardison declared, and Eliot grinned at him.

"Prepare for an experience you'll never forget," he told Hardison, and brought out two styrofoam containers of fried fish, slaw, and hushpuppies. There was beer to wash it down, and a couple of homemade fried pies to top it off — none of it the best Eliot had ever had, but all of it good. Something about the fresh air and the sound of the rushing river gave it an extra flavor.

"All right," Hardison said when they were done and he'd licked the last of the peach filling from the pie off his fingers. "That wasn't the worst."

"I told you," Eliot said.

Hardison nodded. "You did. You really did."

"And now," Eliot said, leaning forward and rubbing his hands together, "we fish."

"That is what we're here for," Hardison said. "Although I'll be honest with you, I kind of always though 'going fishing' was just a euphemism."

"For drinking beer?" Eliot said. "I mean, you're not wrong. There's a lot of beer drinking."

Hardison shrugged. "That and other things."

"Uh huh," Eliot said. He wasn't going to pretend not to know what Hardison meant. He done a little bit of everything down by the river those last few summers at home, or at least experienced a little bit of everything.

"Just sayin'," Hardison said, holding up his hands.

"You thought I invited you down to the river to fool around, huh?" Eliot asked.

"I mean, not this time," Hardison said. "I invited you." He rubbed his hands together. "So are we going to fish or what?"

"We are definitely going to fish," Eliot said. "Just...fish."

"You're gonna have to show me," Hardison said, and Eliot grinned. They started at the beginning: threading the line through the supports on the rod, tying on a hook, adding the worms that Hardison was so disgusted by. Eliot could have gotten other bait, but it was funny to watch Hardison squirm.

"Now cast your hook out into the water," Eliot said.

"Okay," Hardison said, giving him one of those looks. "How do I do that?"

"Just" — Eliot mimed flicking the rod — "put it out there."

"Show me," Hardison said, and Eliot picked up his rod. "No, show me, like, move my arm. I'm not gonna learn by watching you. I'm one of those kinesthetic learners. I need to feel it."

"Uh, sure," Eliot said. "I'll just, uh...here, stand up." He stepped up behind Hardison and kind of put his arms around him a little. Hardison was taller than he was and Eliot's face was almost against the back of Hardison's shoulder. Hardison was wearing one of those waffle-looking shirts and he smelled like bergamot and some kind of woodsy deodorant. It worked on him. "It starts with the shoulder, that's where the power comes from." He patted Hardison's shoulder and then ran his hand down Hardison's arm. "It ends in the wrist. That's the finesse." He moved Hardison's arm back and forth. Goddamn, Hardison was strong. It wasn't exactly like he ever forgot that, since it was part of the calculations Eliot made for every job — if shit went south, he could rely on Hardison to get out, mostly — but he never really considered the physical reality of it either, unless they were both working out at the same time. But Hardison's arms were hard with muscle underneath the fabric of his shirt, and Eliot could feel the power in them as Hardison's arm pivoted smoothly with his guidance. "Like this."

"Uh huh," Hardison said in a serious voice. "I think I'm getting it. Just back and forth."

"Not just back and forth," Eliot said. He laid his arm out along the length of Hardison's and wrapped his fingers around Hardison's wrist. "It's all in the wrist, man. Just hold this down, pull back, and flick as you let go." Their arms moved together and Hardison's hook dropped neatly into the water. "Just like that."

"I might need help again later," Hardison said. "You know they say practice makes perfect."

"I'm here all day," Eliot said. "You want another beer? It might take a while to actually catch anything."

"Why the hell not," Hardison said. Eliot cracked open two more beers and Hardison clinked his can against Eliot's as they sat down. "To finally going fishing."

Eliot drank a healthy sip and slid his can into the cupholder built into the arm of his chair. He cast out into the river. It wasn't hard, but it did take practice to get the little flick just right. He'd gotten plenty of practice over the years — he'd been fishing since he was little, maybe five, first with his granddaddy and then his daddy and then his friends.

It wasn't like Hardison was wrong. He and his buddies had gone down to the river by themselves starting when they were twelve or so. They hadn't fooled around until they were in high school, when they'd go catch enough fish to come home with and then fill the rest of the hours with whatever they'd managed to steal out of their parents' liquor cabinets and cigarette packs. What the hell else were a bunch of teenage boys going to do but get tipsy and go skinny dipping? Whatever else had happened had just happened. Just a bunch of boys taking a test drive before the real deal. The fact that it had still happened after some of them had gotten laid was just a matter of opportunity.

The military had been like that too, and then thieving, since then: Eliot and all his brothers-in-arms just trying to get by and have a little fun in their off-time. Keeping the world safe for democracy got lonely It wasn't gay to give another man a hand job. His own damn hand just got so boring after a while, and there hadn't been any women in his combat unit. Wrapping his fist around another man's cock had been a favor, nothing more, because the other guy had always done it for him too. And getting a blow job from another man wasn't gay either, because Eliot had never been the one blowing. It wasn't like he'd tangled his fingers in the guy's hair or kissed any of them afterward. Well, maybe a couple of them, but when they swallowed, it only seemed polite to thank them with a kiss and a hand job. It wasn't gay. It wasn't like there'd been tongue. Much.

Okay, it was bi-curious at most. He'd probably thought about women anyway.

"Bet you I catch more fish," Hardison said, startling Eliot out of his thoughts.

"No way in hell," Eliot told him. "You can't even cast by yourself yet."

"I had a good teacher," Hardison said. "You wait and see how many fish I catch."

"Fine," Eliot said. "Loser buys dinner."

"Loser cooks dinner," Hardison said. "Because you're going to be preparing all these delicious fish I catch."

"Only if you win, which you're not gonna," Eliot said. "And if you do, you're gonna learn to clean a fish."

"That sounds terrible," Hardison said cheerfully. "How about you do it and I pretend to watch?"

"You've gotta catch at least five more fish than I do if you want to get out of cleaning duty," Eliot said.

"Done," Hardison said. He pointed at Eliot. "No backsies."

"What are you, a child?" Eliot asked.

"I am a fully grown adult man," Hardison said, wiggling his eyebrows. "Wanted in at least sixteen countries, and that doesn't even count the warrants."

"Hah," Eliot said. "I get it." He raised his beer to Hardison. Hardison grinned. Eliot felt a nibble on his line and ignored it. He didn't want to lose, but on the other hand, he wanted to see what would happen if Hardison won. The last time, he'd somehow ended up on their date, and it had been weird as hell, but also nice somehow. Eliot hadn't had any shortage of quote-unquote friends, but he hadn't been on a date in longer than he could remember. And he hadn't really felt like the third wheel, unless it was the third wheel of a tricycle. He'd felt like they wanted him there. Like it wouldn't have been the same without him. And now Hardison had basically insisted that this was kind of a date, whatever that meant.

Eliot had no fucking clue what the fuck was happening, if he was honest with himself.

"I feel something," Hardison said, sitting up and alert in his chair.

"All right, jerk your wrist back to set the hook," Eliot told him. "Still feel it?"

"Yeah," Hardison said, focusing in on the rod and the water in a way that gave Eliot a little tingle someplace he couldn't describe. Watching Hardison work really was something else.

"Keep the line taut," Eliot said. "Just reel it in slowly. If it fights, you tip the rod to give it a little room. Don't let the line out too far or the hook might slip and you'll lose it." He put his hand on Hardison's shoulder. The man had biceps, that was for sure. "Easy does it. Easy."

"This is as easy as I get," Hardison said, cranking the reel.

"You got this," Eliot told him.

There were a few tricky moments, but at the end of it, Hardison was triumphantly holding up a pretty little bass. Eliot freed it from the hook and dropped it in a bucket of water.

"That's one," Hardison said, holding up one finger. "And how many do you have? None?"

Eliot pretended to look around and turned to flip Hardison off. "Hey, man. Look at that. I got one too."

"Ha ha," Hardison said sarcastically.

They didn't catch a damn thing the whole rest of the afternoon. Eliot could have — he felt the fish nibbling, but he'd either let them go or yank at just the wrong moment or let too much line out. Hardison just didn't have the technique down. Eliot helped him cast a couple more times, but nothing seemed to want to take Hardison's bait.

They both looked at the one fish in the bucket and then at each other.

"How's chili sound for dinner?" Eliot asked after a moment.

"Yeah," Hardison said. "I could go for some chili. Maybe some cornbread."

"Don't push your luck," Eliot said, though he'd already been thinking about it himself.

"All right, all right," Hardison said. "I can eat my chili with Fritos like a regular person if you're not gonna put out."

Eliot tipped out the bucket into the river and the fish swam away. "No one in the history of food has ever used the phrase 'put out' in conjunction with the idea of cornbread, except to to say 'put out the cornbread on the table'."

"I'm an innovator," Hardison said. "Cutting edge."

"Just help me carry all this shit to the truck," Eliot told him, rolling his eyes and dumping the ice from the cooler out onto the edge of the river. They'd finished the beer a couple of hours ago, at least. The rods and the cooler and the chairs all went in the back of his truck and he and Hardison piled back in and drove back to the Bridgeport.

"Can't believe you didn't catch anything." Hardison said. "Fish in Oklahoma must just be easy, huh?"

"Guess so," Eliot said. "I sure caught more than my share back home." He smirked.

"I can imagine," Hardison said, and suddenly that was all Eliot was thinking about: Hardison thinking about the things Eliot had done down by the river. "Good clean wholesome country fun, no doubt."

"Nothing cleaner than skinny dipping," Eliot said, glancing at Hardison and then back at the road. He could at least have a little say in what Hardison was imagining. If that happened to be Eliot buck naked and golden from the summer sun, so be it. He glanced at Hardison again and caught just the curve of Hardison's smile as Hardison licked his lips. Eliot felt a shock spark through him like static.

What the fuck was he doing? Flirting with his teammate? With his other teammate's boyfriend? This wasn't a "what happens down at the river stays down at the river" situation. Parker and Hardison were pretty much all he had these days by way of friends he saw regularly. He couldn't mess with that. But Hardison was still smiling and seemed perfectly comfortable.

"Hey, babe," Parker said when they came in. She was studying something on a laptop. She turned in her seat to kiss Hardison. Eliot felt that spark again and remembered his dreams. He looked away. She sure as hell hadn't offered him a kiss. Maybe he was imagining this whole thing. Maybe they hadn't ever been flirting with him and he'd messed up all their date night plans that last time with the pasta.

"Hell yeah, I did," Hardison told her. "More than Eliot too, which means he's making dinner again."

"Nice," Parker said. "For everybody?"

Hardison shrugged. "I assume Nate and Sophie are out for the night, since nobody's called me to demand I work technological miracles on short notice."

"Fine with me." Parker hopped off her chair. "What's for dinner?"

"Chili," Eliot said. "And before you ask, no, it doesn't pair well with tiramisu."

"No more late-night tiramisu," Hardison said, putting his arms around Parker with an indulgent air. "You were bouncing off the walls for hours."

"You liked it," Parker told him, and her grin told Eliot everything he needed to know and more about exactly how much Hardison had liked it.

"I didn't say I didn't benefit from it," Hardison allowed, "but sometimes I need my sleep, baby. There's only so much one man can do."

"All right, all right," Eliot groused. It was too bad two men wasn't an option. Between them, surely they could tire out even a sugared-up and caffeinated Parker.

"Ice cream," Parker decided. "Yeah, definitely ice cream." She flashed them a smile. "I'll be back."

"I'm gonna watch the master work," Hardison said to Parker, following Eliot into the kitchen. "Don't forget there's only so much room in the freezer."

"Yeah, yeah," she said. "If we eat it, that's not a problem."

"She's got a point," Eliot said. He washed his hands and flung a towel over his shoulder.

"First I learned to fish," Hardison said. "Now I'm going to learn to cook."

"Maybe you'll be better at cooking than you were at fishing," Eliot teased.

Hardison snorted. "Says the man who didn't catch even a minnow today."

"I was off my game," Eliot said.

"Missing your old fishing buddies, huh," Hardison said, leaning on the counter.

"Something like that." Eliot dug in the cabinets for one of his big dutch ovens, the cast iron ones. "If you want to cook chili, you start out with a big old pot."

"Looks like you could do reps with that one," Hardison said, miming bicep curls.

"Just about," Eliot said. He set it on the stove and pulled out the cutting board and an onion. "Mince your onion up. I like it in little pieces so it gets all melty. Some people like big chunks of onion, but that's their business." He minced a few cloves of garlic alongside it and turned on the heat under the pan. "Heat first. That's important. When the pan gets hot, then we add the oil, then we wait for that to heat up."

"I'm taking notes in my mind," Hardison said, tapping his temple. "Heat. Oil. Onions. Got it."

Eliot went to the fridge. He'd been meaning to make chili anyway — he had a packet of mixed ground pork and beef from the butcher, which meant either chili or burgers in his world. He pulled that out and grabbed a couple of bell peppers while he was at it. Hardison watched him lay everything out on the counter. Eliot held his hand over the metal bottom of the pot. Hot enough, he thought. He added some oil and watched it run along the perfect unstained enamel. One of these days, maybe he'd be in one place long enough to break his cookware in. His momma's chili pot had had a chip out of the top and it never looked completely clean inside. Too many Sunday dinners and weeknight soups. He shook his head and cut the tops off his bell peppers. The oil in the pot was shimmering. He scraped in the onions and garlic and let them sizzle. The scent of them immediately filled the kitchen.

"First the noise," he told Hardison. "Then you stir." He started dicing the bell peppers, peered over at the onions, and handed Hardison the big wooden spoon. "Stir."

"You get bossy in the kitchen, don't you?" Hardison asked, but he came around the counter and stood next to Eliot.

"I'm bossy everywhere," Eliot told him. "And it's saved your life more than once."

"I didn't say I didn't like it," Hardison said, poking the onions with the spoon. Eliot threw some salt in on top of them.

"I said stir 'em, not move 'em around one at a time," he teased.

"I had a lot of wrist action earlier," Hardison protested. "Go easy on me."

"Don't tell me you need me to teach you how to stir," Eliot said. "Smartest man I know. You can figure it out." He pulled a beer out of the fridge.

"Didn't get enough earlier?" Hardison joked.

"It's for the chili," Eliot told him. He peered around Hardison at the onions. "Stir 'em around again." Hardison scraped the spoon through the onions obediently. They were translucent enough, Eliot decided, and added the peppers to the pot.

"Keep stirring?" Hardison asked.

"You got it," Eliot said. He unstuck the paper around the packet of meat and unwrapped it.

"Mm," Hardison said unconvincingly, looking at the bloody rectangle.

"This is the good stuff," Eliot said. He dumped it into the pot. "Chop it up with the spoon as it turns brown." He mimed the action and Hardison mimicked him, separating the meat into chunks.

"Big or little pieces?" Hardison asked.

"Depends on what you like," Eliot said. "Smaller's easier to eat. Picks up the flavor better. Bigger keeps more of the meat taste and feels different in your mouth." He tossed in more salt on top of the meat, added chili powder and black pepper and oregano.

"Is that cocoa powder?" Hardison asked.

"Just a little," Eliot said, measuring it out on a teaspoon. "Gives it a little depth. That's what the beer's for too."

"And here I thought you were just rude," Hardison murmured.

"That too," Eliot said. He added cumin to the pot, hesitated, and then threw in a little more. Hardison sniffed appreciatively.

"This smells good, man," he told Eliot.

"Thanks," Eliot said.

"You use a recipe?" Hardison asked.

"Nah," Eliot said. "Just know what it's supposed to be like." He collected a can of tomatoes and three different kinds of beans from the pantry. If he was going to keep losing bets, he was going to keep making three-of-a-kind recipes and see if they ever even noticed. Black beans, pinto beans, and kidney beans made a hell of a chili anyway.

"Meat looks...brown," Hardison said.

"Good," Eliot said. He cracked open the beer and poured most of it into the pan, where it bubbled and steamed up in a cloud that made Hardison cough. Eliot laughed and took a swig of what was left. He offered the last swallow to Hardison. Hardison took it without hesitation. Eliot couldn't stop looking at the way Hardison's lips pressed against the mouth of the bottle, right where Eliot's had been. Hardison drained the dregs and set the bottle on the counter, his eyes on Eliot's. Eliot shivered. There'd been looks like that down by the river, those summers in high school: lazy, certain stares full of breathless heat. He didn't know anymore if he was imagining things.

He'd tried not to get in the way. They just kept including him. Maybe it was inevitable that he was having these kinds of thoughts about it. It had been a long damn time since anybody had made him feel as needed as the two of them did, or as wanted, or as welcome. Of course he had feelings about them now. Of course he dreamed about them.

"Eliot," Hardison said softly. "Earth to Eliot."

"Yeah," Eliot said, shaking it off. "Let the liquid cook off a little." He grabbed the can opener and opened the cans. He dumped the beans into a colander, all three cans, and rinsed them off.

"Three bean chili, huh?" Hardison said. "When one or two beans just won't do."

"Adds texture," Eliot said. Hardison didn't know enough about food to contradict him, and anyway, it was sort of true. He grabbed a spoon and tasted it. "It ain't Texas chili, but it'll do."

"Now what?" Hardison asked.

"Now we turn the heat down and let it simmer," Eliot told him. "And I guess we make cornbread, if you still want it."

"Hell yeah, I do," Hardison said.

"Then turn on the oven," Eliot said, "and throw that cast iron skillet in there."

"This one?" Hardison held it up.

"That's the one," Eliot told him, already measuring everything into a bowl. Cornbread came together fast. When the batter was all mixed together, he pulled out the hot skillet, melted some butter in it, and poured in the batter. It hissed and spat a little. He pushed it back into the oven.

"Kinda thought Parker would be back by now," he said.

Hardison shrugged. "You know Parker and sugar. She might be back in five minutes. Might be two hours."

"This'll take about half an hour," Eliot said.

"How will we pass the time," Hardison said, lounging against the counter.

"Not fishing, I'm guessing," Eliot said. He leaned on the counter next to Hardison. "Not unless you've still got that game."

"I do, but now that I know what the real thing is like, I don't know if I can go back," Hardison said. He smiled over at Eliot, slow and sweet. "All that fresh air, you know?"

"I'm back!" Parker said. She was carrying a tote bag that looked like it definitely contained more ice cream than three adults could or should eat. "I couldn't pick a flavor, so I just got all of them."

"Attagirl," Eliot said, pushing himself off the counter. "Go big."

"And then come home," Hardison said, pulling Parker close. He took the ice cream bag from her and looked through it. "Wow. You really did get everything."

"I told you so," Parker said. "Is it dinner yet?"

"Almost," Eliot said. "Just waiting on the cornbread."

"Yum," Parker said.

"I helped cook," Hardison said.

"He did," Eliot confirmed. "He's a good little sous chef. Stirs and everything."

"Sounds like you're a great team," Parker said, looking between them and smiling. "I like teamwork."

"Me too," Hardison said. He grinned at her and raised one eyebrow.

Eliot tried really damn hard not to read anything into that.

Dinner didn't feel like a date this time, but it did feel like family. They watched <i>Top Gun</i> afterwards, because apparently that was what they did now: dinner and a movie. Parker gave up on any pretense and swung her legs over Eliot's lap almost the minute he sat down. She put her head in Hardison's lap and Hardison stroked her hair. Neither of them said anything or even seemed to notice anything was strange. Eliot sighed to himself and rested his hand on her shin. It wasn't like she'd never touched him before. She'd flung her arm around his shoulder or jumped into his arms or poked at him a hundred times over the years. It just felt different now.

Nothing about his life was remotely like what he'd imagined when he'd been in high school. But it was all right. He had a damn good life.

"Pass me that fruity one," Parker said, sitting up so that she was leaning against Hardison, and Eliot handed her a gooey pint of ice cream. She dug her spoon into the container and grinned at him. He thought very briefly about how sweet she'd taste if he kissed her.

"Share," Hardison told her, and Parker held the spoon to his mouth, and Eliot thought about kissing him too. He picked up one of the other pints of ice cream and occupied his mouth and his mind with other sensations, real ones, cold and the bitter bite of chocolate and the smooth feeling of butterfat. It helped crowd the fantasies out of his head, at least for a little while.

It could have been worse. He could have fallen for Sophie.

#leverage fic #leverage ot3 #parker x hardison x eliot #parker/hardison/eliot #my fic #team leverage ot3 #leverage ot3 fic #leverage

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millennial-ring · 4 years ago

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Can we get more info on 5-7?

5. Dear God

So this one is ANCIENT (2012!!!) and idk why it’s still in my WIPs folder because I do clean it out/reorganize it every few years or so (which is why that unfinished powershipping christmas fic wasn’t on the list, cause I moved it to a different folder). Sadly the title makes it seem more interesting than it actually is - it’s just a few paragraphs and nothing really happens at all.

Russet eyes were glazed over as they watched the rain pelt the ground, each drop making tiny indents in the dirt, puffs of the still-dry earth floating up with each splash before settling down again, the process repeating over...and over... Rain drummed against the body of a beaten up jeep, the only prominent sound within miles, save to the sound of the rain falling in the grass, and the dirt, and the leather jacket Bakura wore.

The man blinked as water ran down his face, following the curve of his brow and rolling over the crease of his eyelid, flowing into his eye. The water pooled between his lids, blurring his vision for a few moments until he blinked again, and the water was squeezed out to mingle with the rest on his face, like a single, solitary tear. He inhaled slowly, then let the breath out in a quick huff, turning away from the long stretch of dirt road in front of him. Behind him, another long chunk of drivable desert. He growled under his breath and began to pace, wet sand squishing under his boots, gravel shifting with each step.

How could be trapped here, in the middle of fucking nowhere, with a flat fucking tire and no spare?

It was inspired by this Avenged Sevenfold song and I vaguely remember that it was going to be thiefshipping, about the various trials Bakura goes through to get back to Malik after a fight or something but... 🤷

6. Domestic Disturbance

This one is also super short, more fleshed out in my mind than on paper, and I started writing it after we had to call the cops on our neighbors because they were having a very loud and long argument (like, over an hour of yelling). Inspiration comes from the dumbest places with me, haha, but this is another one of those “why is this still in my wips” documents because I don’t have any intention of finishing it. After writing what I did I kinda had a “maybe these kinds of situations shouldn’t be your inspiration for fanfics, weirdo” moment and I scrapped it. But anyway!

The story goes that Bakura was playing some Wii game, lost grip on the controller, and accidentally chucked it and broke a vase because he wasn’t wearing the wrist strap. Malik hears the crash and comes around the corner, lecturing him about “how many times have i told you i s2g bakura why are you like this” even as Bakura’s already beginning to clean up the mess. Bakura gruffly tells him to chill out because nothing important was broken anyway, just “that ugly ass vase” and he holds up a piece for Malik to see. The tension thickens immediately and Malik speaks with measured anger instead of the usual screaming, so Bakura knows He Fucked Up. “That was a gift from my sister.” Bakura panics a bit on the inside, but outside he scoffs and he’s all like “even better, tell her she has awful tastes” because ykno. He’s like that. Doesn’t wanna admit he fucked up, doesn’t wanna take responsibility or acknowledge he hurt Malik’s feelings. At this point I’d stopped writing it, but still have the basic outline. The regular bickering becomes a super intense all out screaming match about basically anything and everything, all the tiny little things they’d been burying for as long as they’d lived together finally coming out, start demanding why they ever thought this would work and they’re just about to get to that great crescendo where they're about to break up (”Well then maybe you shouldn’t have brought me back!” “At this point I’m inclined to agree!” Bakura’s shocked. “Well...then is this going where I think it’s going?” “I think it is.” “Then say it.” “...” “Say you want to break up!” “I...Bakura, I...” when someone knocks on the door. Heyo, it’s two cops, saying someone called in a domestic disturbance. Malik snaps that they’re fine, still pissed from the fight, but obviously like no Malik that’s not gonna help. So one officer brings Bakura out into the hall to question him and the other stays with Malik. Cop asks if they’re together, how long, what the fight was about, etc etc, and then if the fight had been physical at all. Bakura recoils in shock and practically screams “No!” “You never hit Malik?” “I would never!” “And Malik wouldn’t hit you?” There’s a few things there, bc I wasn’t sure how I wanted Bakura to respond; make an “only if he asked wink wonk” joke that the cop rolls his eyes at, or stammer that “i mean he’s smacked my head once or twice but it never hurt and i was being super annoying at the time and it was more like playful slapping” but either way the cop asks for a more direct answer or for Bakura to elaborate and Bakura gets pissed, says Malik would cut off his own hand before he hit Bakura because obviously. Cop seems taken aback but nods, and then lectures Bakura a bit about volume, tells him maybe one of them should pack a bag and stay with friends or family for a few days. Their partner comes out soon after and the two cops leave. Bakura goes back inside, where Malik is standing with his arms crossed, looking shaken with red rimmed eyes. They look at each other, feeling awkward, but then they make tea, sit down, and have a calmer “are we really like that?” conversation. they admit a lot of their fights are pointless and stupid and they’re just fighting to fight because it’s Their Thing and aha, aren’t we so cute and quirky, arguing is our foreplay - which it is, but they admit they’ve taken it too far, gotten too used to snapping at each other when something happens, and some of their issues (like Bakura disrespecting Malik’s siblings, and Malik’s control freak attitude) really need to be sat down and talked out, not screamed out. They apologize, foreheads pressed together, and Malik thumbs a tear from Bakura’s cheek. Bakura strokes his fingers through Malik’s hair. Malik makes a “well you know the best part about fighting, right?” and Bakura laughs, and then it ends.

7. But he came back

So if y’all didn’t know I recently commissioned a(n amazing) fic from @/sitabethel (not properly tagging cause i don’t wanna bother them). In it, Bakura promises Malik he’ll come back after his final showdown with Atem, but ten years pass and Malik gets engaged to Seto. It’s corporate theifshipping and obviously I recommend reading it - but it’s based on an RP I did with a friend of mine years ago. In the RP, Bakura was pissed Malik hadn’t waited for him and does the whole “why did I even bother coming back I literally only came back to be with you?????” and Malik being like “Sorry? But you took a long fucking time and I had to do something to stop the loneliness.” We never finished it, but when we dropped it Bakura was starting to heal and move on and we had plans to end it powershipping and tendershipping - and Bakura catching the bouquet at the wedding and Ryou immediately being like >:) but anyway. The concept stuck with me and I really liked the idea of Bakura coming back to that situation and more so rolling with it - maybe a touch bitter at first, but hey, he’s nothing if not adaptable, and he absolutely invites himself into the relationship in the clunkiest way possible.

“But he came back” was the start of my own attempt to write something with that kind of plot. When I write a fic, I start with a vague collection of ideas or scenes I want to write, and then when I have enough to work with, I begin organizing them into an outline. This doc is just a very small collection of ideas and dialogue, mixing some things taken from the RP and my own ideas. It’s mostly things like how Malik and Kaiba get to the marriage point, starting with an impromptu kinda tipsy make out session hidden away in the kitchen during a party Yugi’s throwing, and how they navigate each other’s trauma and fumble their way into a genuine romance despite everything. I’ve never managed to sit down and work it out into an outline of any kind, and the way I wanted to explore Malik and Bakura’s relationship before the show down, Malik and Kaiba’s relationship building afterwards, and then the relationship building with all three of them meant 30 chapters, at least (the original rp is over 2,500 pages and again, we had only just started with Bakura wanting to ask Ryou out and going to Malik for advice adjklj, when we dropped it) and well. yall know i’m bad at writing multi fic chapters

#wip tag

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sctisfctions · 4 years ago

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( emeraude toubia, 28, cis female, she/her ) Have you seen CARINA TORRERO around ? I hear they’re an ESCORT who can sometimes be GREEDY & IMPULSIVE. But I also heard they can be DETERMINED & ADAPTIVE if you catch them on a good day. They’re usually hanging around LA CASA DI MATEO in their spare time. I sure hope they’re alright ! ( mandy )

Hello all! I’m Mandy and this is my child, Carina Torrero She’s… a lot, so bless your soul for finding your way to this intro.

Full name: Carina Cecilia Torrero Nickname: Care, Cari, C.C. Age: 28 Nationality: Mexican and Lebanese Religion: N/A City of birth: Laredo, Texas The current place for living: Chicago, IL Job title: Eden Escort Married? No Spoken Languages: Spanish, English Birthday: October 30th Does she own a home? Yes

B A C K G R O U N D : ( updated Feb. 25th, 2021 )

Carina is the baby of her family and has always was spoiled as such; showered in gifts. In the small town of Laredo, Texas, the Torrero family was known as the richest family in town. While it was rumored that there were some underground dealings going on in the family business, none of those were true. In fact, The Torreros prided themselves on being the purest and most righteous family in the region. Rev. Torrero owned and pastored a Mega Church that made millions of dollars every week, on top of people throwing money at her parents for their “good work”. But it meant nothing to Carina because she always felt like the church always came before her. Every time they were absent from her biggest life events, a gift was sent to make up for it.

When Carina went to Drexel University to get her degree in fashion design and marketing, she planned on spending the first year goofing off and exploring what the world has to offer her. In a city like Philadelphia, it was easy to get lost in the hype of pre-game drinking sessions and post-game parties, getting sucked into hook-up culture and living as thought she’d never have a chance to touch this many people all at once.

Getting out of college and moving back in with her family in Laredo was odd, at first, leaving the sweet life of sin behind and pretending to be the angel the town was so used to. Kidding, of course, she couldn’t leave it behind. She started doing modeling on the side and ended up getting commissioned for a huge gig with a very risqué magazine. Before the photoshoot even happened, word reached her parents church and the rumors spread like wildfire across the town. Her parents looked down on her with shame and disgrace.

It felt all so overwhelming until she realized it’s all just Texas life. Outside of their region, no one even knows who her family is. She knew the only thing to do was to pack up her things, steal a couple million dollars from her parents ( which was barely a dent for them ), and move to Chicago where she could carry on a life of her own. Within a month of moving, she made friends with some people who worked at a club called Eden. They got her a job as an escort and, to this day, she’s been operating as a freelance designer by day and an escort by night.

Family:

Sisters or brothers: One older brother and sister Wife or husband: N/A. Children: None. Other important persons: Roommate(s)

Physical Characteristics:

Addictions: control, power Bad Habits: acting only for the good of herself Color of Eyes: brown The color of Hair: black The color of Skin: tan Dialect: american accent Does the character drink regularly? always Does the character have any disabilities? no Does the character prefer any proverbs? “the most important thing is to enjoy your life and be happy” - audrey hepburn Does the character smoke? sometimes Good Habits: open-minded, forward thinking, tidy. Height: 5′3″ Hobbies: reading, working out, instagram, binge watching, skin care routines, healthy eating Is she wearing Glasses? no Is the character healthy or does he have any diseases? she’s healthy What’s the style of the character? (modern, outmoded): sporty and sexy. is almost always wearing a sports bra, leggings, and sneakers.

Mental Characteristics

Education: Bachelor’s Degree in Fashion Design and Marketing Intelligent or not? smart enough. she picks things up quickly. Fears: being misunderstood, spiders Life Goals (next 5 years): get a mansion Life Goals (next 25 years): own a fashion empire Self-perception: idk she’s just trying to keep it all together Assumed external perception: she thinks people think she’s either great or a bitch, there is no in between. Self-Confidence: extremely confident Rational Or Emotional: rational How could you upset this character? compare her to her family

Wanted Connections ( all based on crazy ex-girlfriend/galavant songs )

any of these could be filled with gang affiliates of any kind !! It’d be fun to see how a gang affiliate would spice up these connections !!

PLATONIC

FRIENDTOPIA: Carina loves very few people on Earth. They’re the Joey/Chandler/Monica/Phoebe to her Rachel. They do practically everything together, as they spend pretty much every waking second together. They’re her roommates (they can work at Eden with her, but it’s not required).

LET’S GENERALIZE ABOUT MEN: a bitch-type group of friends that get together, sometimes drink, sometimes shop, or sometimes just share gossip and personal thoughts about what the hell is going on around them.

SECRET MISSION: They say the enemy of my enemy is my friend. These people mutually hate someone and often come up with different ways in which they can make this person suffer. But it’s all just in good fun…… or is it?

OFF WITH HIS SHIRT: Any of the men she’s been with exclusively through Eden. Her “regulars” or “visitors”, if you will. She gets paid quite heavily whether she offers sex or just her general company.

MAYBE YOU WON’T DIE ALONE: Carina is the self-proclaimed Hook Up Guru of Chicago, so she’ll definitely attempt to hook you up with that person you’ve had your eye on and it sometimes isn’t subtle. But sex makes her happy, so helping her friends get laid makes her happy too.

AFTER EVERYTHING I’VE DONE FOR YOU: This person has gone to hell and back for Carina, yet she shows little to no gratitude towards them. It’s only a matter of time before their lid pops right off.

FACE YOUR FEARS: These are her older friends who help her figure out her shit and she ACTUALLY listens to them because she just trusts them more than anyone else.

GREG’S DRINKING SONG: Drinking buddies!! A lot of the instances Greg mentions in the song can basically just be different scenarios they’ve gotten themselves in.

ROMANTIC/SEXUAL:

IT WAS A SHIT SHOW: A bittersweet ex-boyfriend. They really didn’t have any choice but to end things. He has some things going on in his life, Carina wasn’t anywhere near ready for a monogamous relationship. They both agree… it was a DISASTER.

SETTLE FOR ME: Someone who, stupidly, has a crush on Carina and he literally doesn’t have a single chance in hell. I just think this kind of energy would be hella hilarious.

STRIP AWAY MY CONSCIENCE: One of the guys that she regularly hooks up/hooked up with. Maybe even dated, but it wasn’t anything more than sex, really. They’re still friends to this day.

SEX WITH A STRANGER: This is pretty straight forward. All of her hookups. I’m just gonna list them here for data purposes. They coulda been friends before or barely know each other. Honestly, if she avoided everyone she’s ever had sex with, she’d never leave her house.

ENEMIES:

MAYBE YOU’RE NOT THE WORST THING EVER: Bitter, toxic exes. This was one of her first real and intense relationships that happened in a time when she was the most vulnerable and unprepared. It ended HORRIBLY when they lashed out at each other and it’s hard to let those feelings go. If they can get over their own pettiness, they can at least hope to be frenemies.

JACKASS IN A CAN: People who really just DON’T think she’s all that. They thinks he’s very stuck up and don’t fall for her charming, blunt persona in the slightest. I’d just love someone to call her out on her bullshit.

I DON’T LIKE YOU: General dislike and sworn mortal enemies kind of situation. We can talk over what happened between them, but honestly, it wouldn’t be that hard to find something that she did… or someone.

WHEW this was long, but go ahead and press some buttons if you like and wanna plot with her!!

#crimson.intro #💫 ( carina torrero )

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semperama · 5 years ago

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Verbs: 4, Pinto!

I apologize, this got a little too long, and I probably should have posted it to AO3 instead, but I’m too lazy to think of a title and all that jazz right now. So hopefully it isn’t too much of a pain to read here!

pinto, convalesce

"So how many 'break a leg' jokes have you heard in the past few days?" Zach asks as he follows Chris into the house, close on his heels in case he trips. He wanted to rent a wheelchair to bring Chris home in, but of course Chris wouldn't hear of it. He always seems to think he has something to prove, even when sporting a cast that extends from foot to thigh and a bulky boot to go with it.

"I lost count," Chris says, leaning for a moment against the wall in the foyer and looking over his shoulder at Zach. "But you know what? I didn't mind it."

"You do love a corny joke." Zach drops Chris's duffel on the floor, then goes to his side, hands hovering in the air as he tries to decide how best to help. "Not sure what that says about your sense of humor. Alright. Too bed now, right?"

"The couch?" Chris says, turning wide, pleading eyes Zach's direction. "I've been laying in bed for days. I don't want to shut myself away in the bedroom until I have to."

Zach purses his lips, but he can't think of a good reason to refuse him. "Fine," he says, "but you aren't going to go hobbling around the house every time you want something. Once you're on the couch, your ass is staying on the couch."

Chris doesn't argue now, but Zach guesses there will be arguments later. And really, it's not like Zach blames him. He can imagine how frustrating it must be to have your mobility limited, to need someone else to take care of you. Chris has always been independent. He doesn't like relying on others--not for anything. Even as Zach leads him to the couch and helps him prop up his leg on a stack of pillows, he wonders how much Chris is bristling at him, how much he wishes Zach would just go away.

Still, Zach has to ask, "What can I get you?"

Chris sighs. "Water, I guess. And hand me the remotes? They're over there next to the TV."

Zach knows where the remotes are. He knows where everything in this house is, and he knew it long before he moved in two months ago. But Chris is still adjusting--they both are--and this whole mess with his leg has only thrown a wrench in things, so Zach lets this one slide and goes to retrieve the remotes.

On the way back from the kitchen with Chris's water, he digs two prescription bottles out of the duffel. Painkillers and antibiotics, both of which need to be taken on a regular schedule. One more thing for Zach to keep track of, and one more thing for Chris to potentially resent him for. Maybe it would be easier if he set alarms on Chris's phone, so he isn't bugging Chris himself, but even that feels like it might be too invasive.

"Here," he says as he sets the water down close enough for Chris to reach it. "And here are your meds. You're about due for more oxy now, if you want."

Chris waves him away absently, his eyes fixed on the TV screen as he flips through the channels. "That stuff makes me feel awful. The doctor said I could switch to ibuprofen whenever."

Zach sighs. Chris has three pins in his leg, but trust him to try to play the tough guy now. Who doesn't want to take the good shit when they have it? But he bites his tongue. "Do you want ibuprofen now then?"

"Nah, I'm good. I'll wait until dinner."

Nodding, Zach looks from Chris to the TV to Chris again. What is he supposed to do now? How is he supposed to help? "I guess I'll go start a load of laundry then. Mind if I get your clothes out of the bag?"

Chris looks at him then, eyebrows pinching together. "You don't have to do that. I can wash them later."

"Chris." Zach throws up his hands. "How are you going to do that, huh?"

"Right." The troughs in his forehead deepen. "Okay. Sorry."

Sorry? Zach frowns, but he finds he isn't in the mood to unpack all that baggage in that one word now, so he goes to unpack the physical baggage instead. It's a relief, in some ways, to go through the motions of sorting the clothes in the hamper and tossing them into the washer. He feels far more useful now than he did hovering over Chris in the living room, or back at the hospital, where friends and family came and went and all Zach could do was sit and watch Chris's pale face for signs of fatigue. He thought he was going to cry when Chris's dad offered to have him come stay with them while he was recovering, but luckily Chris shut that one down quickly. But was it because he trusted Zach to take care of him, or because he didn't want to put his family out? Is he only putting up with Zach now because he has to?

Zach realizes he's spiraling and takes a deep breath to rein himself in. This is all too new. He moved in with Chris just a couple weeks before filming on the new Star Trek started, and though it seemed like a good idea at the time, it's been a big adjustment. Going from a long-distance relationship to a live-in one--plus filming twelve-plus hours a day--hasn't been easy on either of them, and Chris's injury has made things that much more awkward. Now he knows Chris feels guilty for delaying production and guilty that Zach almost took the poor stunt coordinator's head off after the fact and guilty that he screwed up the stunt in the first place. And what's Zach supposed to do with all that? He can't fix Chris's leg and he can't fix all the emotional shit surrounding it either, so all he's good for now is fetching Chris water and making him feel uncomfortable in his own damn house.

Back in the living room, Chris is still scrolling through the channels, though his eyes look unfocused, like he might not really be paying attention to what he's seeing. Zach wishes they hadn't taken the dogs over to Mark's. Maybe if they were here, they would cheer Chris up better than Zach can.

"Hey," Zach says, leaning against the door frame and offering a tentative smile. They used to be able to communicate so much to each other with just smiles, and Zach has no idea what he may be communicating now, but he hopes it's something. He hopes Chris can still read him like this.

Chris clicks the TV off again and tosses the remote on the coffee table, and only then does he look up at Zach's face. "Hey," he says wearily. Then, after a double-take, he stretches out his hand. "Hey," he says again, softer. "Come here."

Zach goes to him and slips his fingers into Chris's, a hopeful nervousness unfurling in his chest. Before he can protest, Chris tugs at him and sends him sprawling into his lap. He only barely manages to catch himself and avoid falling against Chris's injured leg.

"Careful!" Zach digs his fingers into Chris's shoulders. "They'll have us both killed if you reinjure that leg, you moron."

"Relax," Chris says, offering up the first real smile Zach has seen in days, then hiding it in Zach's neck. "I mean it. You need to relax. You're acting like I'm on my deathbed."

"I'm not--" Zach huffs and tries to rearrange himself, get some of his weight off Chris's stomach. "It's not that. I know you're going to be fine."

"Then what is it?" Chris reaches up and brushes a few strands of hair off Zach's forehead. And God, Zach loves it when he does that. He used to be so neurotic about his hair, would duck instinctively out of the way whenever anyone reached for it, but something about Chris doing it, the intimacy of it--it makes his stomach flip over every time.

"This isn't exactly how I thought living together would go," Zach says, and then it's his turn to hide his face, pressing his mouth against Chris's temple. He still smells like hospital, but he doubts either of them want to think about the work it'll take to get him in the shower right now. "Doesn't this feel like...I don't know, some kind of bad omen?"

"Bad omen? Jesus." Chris chuckles and snatches up one of Zach's hands, brings it up to his mouth and kisses the edge of his palm. "Look, I know I've been really fucking cranky. We were both sleep-deprived even before all of this, and now I feel like I've let everybody down, and I hate being..." He gestures down the length of his body. "Helpless."

"Yeah, I know," Zach says, because he does. Of course he does.

"But none of that has anything to do with you and me," Chris says. "There are no bad omens, Zach. Only bad luck."

He turns his head to the side and captures Zach's mouth--a quick peck first, then a harder one, the kind that has them both drawing an anticipatory breath. Not that they have anything to anticipate at the moment. Chris is out of commission in every possible way.

"I just don't want you to regret this," Zach says when they break apart. He is painfully aware of how it sounds--almost childishly needy, not at all like a man who's spent most of his adult life in therapy for his abandonment issues.

Luckily for him, Chris only grin at him and shakes his head. "The only thing I regret right now is not asking you to move in with me sooner." He rubs his thumb across Zach's bottom lip. "We shouldn't have had to spend the first months of our relationship to tired or too--injured to fuck."

Zach barks out a laugh at that and swats Chris on the stomach. "One-track mind," he admonishes.

Chris's eyes sparkle, even as the smile fades from his lips. "But seriously, do you think I don't worry about the same thing? Don't you know all I can think about is how unfair it is that you'll have to wait on me hand and foot for the next few weeks?"

"But I'm happy to do it, Chris," Zach says, brushing his fingers across Chris's cheekbone. "I'd do it even if you weren't bedridden, if you wanted me to."

Chris crinkles his nose. "Yeah, no. That sounds like a nightmare."

"Why's that?" Zach tries not to sound too hurt.

"Because I want a partner, Zach." Before Zach can argue, Chris puts a finger to his lips. "And yes, I'm aware that partners sometimes have to take care of each other, which is why I'm going to try to get over myself and let you take care of me and not be grumpy about it." He presses a loud, smacking kiss to Zach's cheek. "But in return you have to stop acting like you have to earn your right to be here, okay?"

That sentence has another ten years of therapy packed into it, but Zach pushes it away for now and focuses on the important part: that Chris wants him here, and not just for what Zach can do for him.

"Deal," Zach says, and presses his mouth Chris's temple again. He'll do his best, anyway--which is all either of them can do. It helps, at least, that their issues are complementary.

"Good." Chris kisses him on the mouth. "Now get me my phone, so I can order us burritos, because you are not cooking. And then you are going to sit here with me and watch a dumb action movie. And then--and then we can figure out how I'm going to shower with this thing on."

His mouth twists on that last part, and Zach can't help but smile. He scratches his fingers along Chris's scalp and then gives the back of his neck a gentle squeeze. "Maybe I can make the shower part worth your while," he says, brushing his mouth against Chris's jaw. "Provided it's safe enough, that is."

"Hmm," Chris hums, clutching the back of Zach's head to keep him there. "In that case, maybe we'll do the shower first."

#wordplay as foreplay #pinto #my writing #ficlet #suedescripture

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tastyliltina · 4 years ago

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SnackInc 1/?

A/n: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I've been meaning to post it...kind of a worldbuilding thing I made back when Fern was still a newer character of mine. Not really sure if I'll continue it or not, but the basic premise is that Fern works at a corporation that commissions humans out to be used as snacks for more feral giants/predatory creatures. This keeps random attacks on humans down and helps settle cravings the giants might have. Fern's a pretty well known snack but fell on hard times and had to resort to more shady deals outside of the corporation. So...yeah, have a worldbuilding thing ;;w;; If you enjoyed and want a story for yourself, feel free to inquire about commissions!: tinascommissions.carrd.co/ All stories are on sale 50% off until Dec. 10th! Now, onto the story! ~~ Fern stumbled through the street, clutching his wad of cash. Thick, warm liquid slimed his clothes as he moved away from his client. The giant looming behind him chuckled, and Fern turned to face the beast.

“Look, man…” Fern sighed, trying to brush back his hair. “Keep this quiet, alright? Don’t want it getting around I’m offering this...service to random giants on the street.” He thumbed through the payment, ensuring the bills were all there. Once he was sure, he glanced back up to the grinning giant.

Pearly peaks of white shimmered in the moonlight. Something about fangs in the dark was much more terrifying. Still, Fern held his ground.

“Heh. Whatever you say, morsel~.” A tongue traced over smiling lips, and Fern rolled his eyes.

“If that’s your best compliment, I’d hate to see an insult,” he muttered. The giant scoffed, but straightened. Deals like this weren’t appreciated among watchful eyes. Departures needed to be discreet.

Fern sighed. He watched his client stalk away, and tried to grasp what little pride he had left. The fact the ground shook with every step the giant took did little to help. Being treated like food for a quick cash grab...how humiliating. Still...money was nice. And with more wealthy clientele, maybe working in the food industry wasn’t so bad. Turning, Fern descended into the dim alley. He shivered as the drool clinging to him reacted with the wind…. Getting home would be hell.

Slowly, he traversed the desolate streets. Runoff from a recent storm splashed beneath his feet, though hardly drew Fern from his thoughts. With the money he’d gotten from tonight, he’d almost be able to pay off rent. If he did that, maybe he could find some more high-end clients. Spending night after night in another mouth, in another reckless giant was getting old. Most of the bastards didn’t use mints... Others liked to bite. At least through SnackInc, he got the clinets that cared about their treats a little more...he missed the days of pampering.

But damn, having extra cash felt so, so good. Fancier outfits and attending clubs where the high-end clients frequencted wasn't cheap. The reassurance dinners would be easy was well worth a few showers, he supposed. As long as rates didn’t spike, maybe there’d be enough for something hardy. A soup, or...maybe just burgers. Either sounded fine, as long as it wasn't a steaming bowl of ramen.

Soon enough, Fern found his apartment. The building was silent as Fern ascended the stairs. He supposed that made sense at this time of night. Just as he slid his hand into his pocket, Fern heard a rustling behind him. He stiffened. Giants and humans alike knew not to visit the others' living quarters, especially this late at night. It wasn’t worth the jail time or the fees. Some, though…

“Easy, pal.”

The voice was calm. Casual. Fern blinked. He turned, and was met with a pair of golden eyes. The rings of yellow peered down at him, squinting in the dark. Fern didn’t miss the reptilian features on the creature before him, and felt part of his blood run cold. Reptiles were the worst for rando attacks.

“What.” Fern snipped. His tone wasn’t aggressive enough. Fern didn’t care. He didn’t want to be yelling at a giant he didn’t know, especially one that knew where he lived.

“Said easy, man,” the giant continued. He was small, green-skinned and husky. Scales patched across his face, and a black sweater draped the giant’s torso. Unlike Fern, he appeared calm and collected. “Not gonna try anything. Just wanted to know where the nearest gas station was.”

Fern raised a brow. Oh. Though he didn't know if he trusted that answer or not, Fern could take it. He lifted a hand, pointing south. “‘Bout five miles that way. You can’t miss it.” The giant followed his gesture, squinting again. Then, he nodded.

“Cool, thanks.” Instead of leaving, or moving at all, the giant remained seated. Fern furrowed his brow.

“Well...okay. I’m-I’ll be going,” he mumbled. The giant nodded, not seeming intent on leaving. Fern felt something twist his stomach as he stepped into his place. That had been...unnerving, almost as much as approaching random giants to get them to eat him.

Slowly, Fern stepped into his living room. He flicked on the light, and was greeted with the familiar sight of...mediocrity. Beige walls, a beige couch, dirty carpet. Even the flickering light emulated half-assed effort. But, this was home. For now. Fern stretched, sighed, and made sure to lock his door behind him.

He sauntered down the hall, the thought of a shower making everything a little less horrid. Clean clothes, a clean bed… Even with the uncleanable stains of previous occupants on the mattress, sleep sounded so wonderful right now. Fern stepped into his bathroom. He stripped, tossed his clothes aside, and turned on the shower. God, hot water felt good.

Several minutes and layers of body scrub later, Fern scooped his soiled laundry up. His nose wrinkled at the stench of unmasked slobber. He tossed the clothes in the washer, ran a hand through his hair, and returned down the hall. The bed creaked as he collapsed into it, the scent of occupants past filling the air. Fern didn’t care. By the time the smells registered, he was already asleep.

Fern woke up to the sound of his alarm. He groaned. Another day, another customer to please. Sitting up, he snatched the offending device from his nightstand. Who was on the calendar today…

Wait. Fern’s eyes scanned over his clientele list. There was a new face among the regulars... Green skin, yellow eyes, red Mohawk...damn. It was the giant from the other night. Fern grimaced, setting his phone down and rubbing at his face with a sigh, taking a moment to collect himself.

Normally, the ones that approached Fern outside of business were scouting for fresh meat after some kind of falling out. They were the ones that made this job hard. Fern stood, looking over his calendar. For today, at least, there weren’t any taken slots. He had that much. Maybe he could do some cleaning? Cleaning sounded great.

He stood. No point planning the day without getting it started, he supposed. Fern stretched, sighed, and ambled down the hallway. He scouted the kitchen for food, and settled on some bacon and eggs. There was always a sense of pride that came with making his own food. Fern stepped up to his stove, twisting the stove knobs.

Soon enough, a steaming pile of eggs and bacon littered a paper plate. Fern grabbed some silverware, once again checking his schedule for today. Nothing new. He rubbed his chin, opening the file of his newest client. As expected, there wasn’t much available. Most clients went by a first name basis, and the majority didn’t include any other information but a phone number and place to reach them. Fern wasn’t sure how the new guy found out about what he offered, but decided to shrug it off.

Breakfast was quick. Fern took his time cleaning his plates, wishing he didn’t have to go out to the store today. But, one couldn’t get by without dish soap and food. Fern was too much of a neat freak to live a day without one, and food wasn’t a necessity when some clients bought him dinner before having him for dessert. He trudged down to his bedroom, throwing on a simple sweatshirt and jeans.

Fern slid out of his apartment, slipping his hands into his pockets. The jingle of keys signified him locking his door before he peeled away from the familiarity of home. Human-sized creatures traversed the narrow sidewalks, hustling and bustling to and fro. Fern didn’t miss the stares of those passing him. Word got around. Some people looked to him with admiration, being able to take on such an important, and yet demeaning task. Others scowled at him, and some took things to a physical level. Fern ignored those that bumped into him without saying anything, reserving his battles for those that had the guts to say something and make a scene.

Walking to the market never took too long, one of the perks of living in a small town. The building smelled like cinnamon, a warming reminder of the chilly air outside. Fern slid in with a small crowd. He headed for the cleaning section first, rubbing his hands together as he searched the shelves for his usual dish soap.

“Hey.”

The voice snapped Fern to attention. He blinked, turned, and smiled at the familiar face behind him. Kenny stood with her hands in her pockets, oversized sweatshirt complimenting her ripped up jeans. Fern relaxed. It was nice seeing a familiar face, even if it was of a cranky and potentially crazy bitch.

“Hey, Ken.” Fern nodded. He took pride in the ability to shorten her nickname without getting shanked. Kenny stepped up next to him, sliding her hands to her hips. Unlike Fern, Kenny had a more vanilla career. She was a well-renowned tattoo artist. Fern’d debated going to her for a few years, but didn’t know if their history justified her making a few creative decisions while he was under her needle.

“What brings you to market? Finally decide to crawl out of your slimy cave?” Kenny’s voice lowered. While she wasn’t a friend per se, Kenny was one of the few people Fern opened up to about his career choice. She’d never given him a hard time about it. If anything, she almost seemed in awe...or disgust, it was really hard to tell as far as Kenny was concerned.

“Ran out of soap,” Fern shrugged. “Can’t go without it,” he paused to pluck a bottle from the shelf. “Got a new client today. Some giant approached me after a rough one last night… Had to scrub myself for hours, the guy had way too many drinks before he gave me a call. Starting to think he ate me on a dare, y’know?” “Shit man,” Kenny shook her head, somehow without disturbing her loose bun. “I still don’t get how you deal with those assholes day in and out. Doesn’t it get...I dunno, gross after a while?”

“It does get gross, but really...someone’s gotta do it. If not me with all the magical guards in place, then it’d be someone else, or no one at all. And we know how big folk can get if they don’t get their...fix.” Fern tried to hide the bitterness in his tone, but he could still feel it in his voice. Anyone who didn’t live under a rock knew how bad things got before the Snack business stepped in. Disappearances, random attacks on towns… Even if it wasn’t a well-liked profession, it was an important one in order to keep the peace among different species. “But, there’s perks,” a crooked smile plastered Fern’s face. “Don’t gotta worry about a giant trying to mess me up, y’know? I’m...valuable.”

Kenny scoffed, “Valuable my ass,” she shook her head and sighed. “But yeah, you gotta point. Still...”

“Don’t you go worrying about me,” Fern laughed. “You’ve got a badass persona to keep, y’know?” He yelped as Kenny’s hand whacked the back of his head, but snickered at the fuming woman. She crossed her arms and sneered at him.

“Oh, shove it up yours.”

“Sorry, only know how to go down, I’m not into that-” “Fern I swear to God if I didn’t like you I’d shove my foot so far-...you know what, fuck it.” Kenny grabbed the back of Fern’s sweater, and the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back. A dull ache spread along his back and head, and he groaned.

“Nice...seeing you, Ken…” Fern mumbled as he pushed himself up. As usual, Kenny’d vanished into the crowd. Fern expected as much. Kenny never liked being forced to admit she had other emotions besides anger and rage...Fern liked to tease it out of her when he could, even if the result was almost always the same. Rubbing his head, Fern grabbed the soap from the shelf and headed towards checkout with a chuckle.

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