#if anyone else has any helpful deductions please let me know

[brofightiscancelled]

trying to figure out the boys' schedules from "sakura".....

first grey line is when oso and ichi talk and no one else is home, second one is the morning where oso calls a meeting. the dub says "6am" in that scene, which im taking w a grain of salt but it does seem to be early in the morning at so i'll roll with it

oso seems to be on lunch shift since he works in broad daylight and is off work by sunset. i'll assume he works most days?

karamatsu seems to still be unemployed based on the hesokuri wars description of the "independence (s2)" set, but probably mostly hanging out with his new friends at night

choromatsu seems to also be unemployed but actively looking for jobs, going to employment agencies and whatnot during the day. he's shown at home in the evenings both in this set and in the bathhouse scene with oso

ichimatsu is working at chibita's stand. since it's described as "part time" in the hesokuri wars set, and because i think chibita would only be hiring extra help on his busiest nights, im gonna assume he works long night shifts on the weekends that he has to sleep during the day for (to me it looks like he's eating dinner in the morning meeting, compared to totty's breakfast toast)

jyushimatsu is working some unhelpfully vague part-time job that he leaves for early in the morning and gets home from late in the evening so exhausted that he passes out in his clothes. he says he ate with his coworkers so there's some amount of after-work schmoozing. i think the implication is that he works with kids in some capacity, so i'll assume he's doing some kind of part-time coaching job at a school? long tiring hours but only on certain weekdays

todomatsu is explicitly stated to have gotten a normal full-time job, and schmoozes after work with his coworkers for long hours

so maybe a weekly schedule like this? (being generous and assuming choro/kara have job interviews lined up. and that kara would put planned friend outings out on his calendar)

[fanboyswhore9]

The Proposal (Pt. 1)~ Sherlock Holmes

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill’s version) x Fem! reader

Contains: Henry Cavil, marriage of convenience, childhood lovers, long lost love, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

Summary: Childhood friends Sherlock Holmes and the reader were inseparable until she left for boarding school, leaving unresolved feelings between them. Nearly two decades later, she returns to 221B Baker Street with an urgent proposition: to secure her inheritance, she must marry, and she asks Sherlock for help. Unbeknownst to her, Sherlock has harbored feelings for her all along. They confess their love for each other and agree to marry, not just for convenience but out of genuine love.

A/N: THIS IS POSSIBLY THE LONGEST FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN ON TUMBLR! This is my first Sherlock fic that I’ve done. I hope I do him justice!❤️❤️❤️❤️

The rain was steady that evening, casting a mist over the streets of London. Inside 221B Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes sat in his armchair, eyes half-lidded, mind lost in a myriad of thoughts as the fire crackled. He hadn’t had a proper case in days, which left him restless, pacing between fleeting memories and idle deductions.

A knock on the door cut through his haze. Sherlock frowned, glancing at the clock. It was late, too late for most visitors, but not impossible. Perhaps Mrs. Hudson was entertaining guests again. He rose, heading to the door, when he heard the knock again—more insistent this time.

When he opened the door, the last person he ever expected to see stood before him, soaked from the rain, her hair damp around her face. “Sherlock,” she breathed, her voice a familiar melody he hadn’t heard in almost two decades.

His breath caught. It was her. The girl from his youth, his best friend, his confidant—until she was whisked away to boarding school, leaving him behind in a cold and silent void that he rarely acknowledged but always felt. She had grown into the woman he imagined she would be: poised, beautiful, but with that same spark in her eyes that always challenged him, intrigued him.

He stepped back to let her in, not trusting his voice just yet. She entered, glancing around at the familiar setting of 221B. “Some things never change,” she said, her lips pulling into a soft smile, though there was an edge of uncertainty there. Wanting to be polite, he asked her, “I know it’s past time, but would you like a cup of tea?” She looked at him nodding gently, “Yes, please. I’d love a cup of tea.” He nods as he starts to brew tea in the kettle.

Sherlock cleared his throat, suddenly aware of the weight of the moment. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t mean for the words to sound so cold, but they came out that way regardless.She looked at him, her expression guarded, then stepped closer. “I need your help, Sherlock.”

“Help?” His curiosity piqued, but there was something else in her eyes. Something more personal. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her coat as she gathered her courage. “I… I’ve come back to London because of my grandmother. She’s ill, Sherlock. She’s… dying.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and for once, it wasn’t merely out of politeness. “She’s left me her fortune, her estate, but there’s a catch.” She glanced away, as if embarrassed to continue. “I have to be married to inherit.” Sherlock’s brow furrowed. “Married?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, her voice tightening. “My parents are pressuring me. They’ve paraded potential suitors in front of me for months, but none of them… none of them understand me.” She took a deep breath, her eyes finally meeting his. “And I really don’t want to marry any of them.” The air between them seemed to crackle with tension. Sherlock’s mind was already racing, calculating her reasons for coming to him, searching for the logical thread.

“And you’ve come to me because…?” he asked, though a part of him already knew the answer.“Because,” she said softly, stepping closer, her eyes searching his face, “I don’t want to marry just anyone. I want to marry someone I trust. Someone I care about. Someone I…” She hesitated, her voice breaking slightly. “Someone I love.” Sherlock froze.

The words he never expected to hear from her—yet had longed to hear—hung in the air. For a moment, he was sixteen again, watching her pack her things as she left for boarding school, a thousand words unsaid between them. He had always assumed she moved on, that she forgot about him. But now, here she was, standing before him, offering him not just her trust, but her heart.

“You—” He started, but his voice faltered. His mind, usually so sharp, struggled to find the right words. “I know this is sudden,” she rushed on, her hands trembling slightly, “and maybe it’s foolish. Maybe you’ve moved on, maybe you never thought about me that way. But I had to tell you, otherwise I might regret it for the rest of my life. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, Sherlock. And if there’s even the smallest chance that you feel the same…” She trailed off, hope and fear mingling in her eyes.

Sherlock, for once, was at a loss. His emotions, something he kept carefully locked away, threatened to overwhelm him. He had thought of her often over the years, wondered where she was, what she was doing. He had buried his feelings for her, convinced they were pointless, that she was a part of his past he could never reclaim.

But now…

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he admitted quietly, his voice raw with emotion he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. “I—” He paused, the words foreign on his tongue. “I didn’t know how to say it, or if I even should. I assumed… I thought you were happy. That you had your life, your suitors.”She smiled sadly. “I never wanted anyone else.”

Silence filled the room, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy with possibilities, with unspoken promises. Sherlock, ever logical, ever calculating, found himself making a decision not based on reason but on something far more human.

“Then marry me,” he said simply, his eyes locked on hers. Her breath caught, her eyes widening in surprise. “Sherlock, I didn’t mean—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, stepping closer until they were mere inches apart. “Marry me. Not for your inheritance, not for your grandmother, but because I can’t bear the thought of you with anyone else.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she nodded, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Yes, Sherlock. Yes.” He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he cupped her face. And for the first time in years, Sherlock Holmes, the great detective, let himself feel.

His eyes, usually so calculating and detached, softened as they locked onto hers. The distance between them seemed to disappear, years of unspoken emotions finally surfacing. His thumb gently traced the line of her cheek, his touch both tender and reverent.

“I’ve been a fool,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, “for not realizing sooner.”

Before she could respond, Sherlock leaned in, closing the final space between them. His lips met hers in a kiss that was both hesitant and deliberate, as if he was discovering something new but also something long overdue. The kiss was soft at first, slow and searching, but then it deepened, filled with all the feelings they had kept hidden for so long.

Her hands found their way to his shoulders, holding him close as she melted into the warmth of his embrace. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in this quiet, intimate moment. His kiss, though unsure at first, soon became sure and steady, filled with the depth of emotion he had kept buried beneath layers of logic and restraint.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, their breaths mingling in the silence. Sherlock’s eyes remained closed for a brief moment longer, savoring the connection, before he finally opened them to look at her. “For you,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion, “I’ll always make an exception.” A soft smile tugged at her lips, her heart swelling at his words. “Then I’ll always be your exception.”

~SHORT TIME SKIP~

A few days had passed since she had shown up at Sherlock’s doorstep with her proposition. The weight of their confession and the whirlwind engagement still felt surreal, but there was no time for hesitation. Arrangements had to be made, and there were still people she needed to see.

That afternoon, she found herself in the grand, stately sitting room of the Diogenes Club, Mycroft Holmes’ preferred sanctuary. He greeted her with his usual aloofness, but there was a subtle curiosity in his eyes as they exchanged pleasantries.

“My brother is not one for sentiment,” Mycroft said, swirling a glass of brandy as he studied her, “but you seem to have managed what few others could.” His words were clipped but not unkind. “It’s rather remarkable.” She smiled, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “I didn’t come here expecting him to say yes. But I know Sherlock, and I believe this is right for both of us.”

Mycroft gave her a small, approving nod. “You’ve always had a peculiar influence on him. I suppose if anyone can make sense of this arrangement, it’s you.” Before she could respond, the door opened, and a young woman with wild curls and a sharp, curious look in her eyes entered the room. Enola Holmes, Sherlock and Mycroft’s little sister, stepped in with an air of confidence. It was the first time they’d met, though she had heard much about Enola’s independent and rebellious nature.

Enola glanced between her and Mycroft, her expression caught between surprise and amusement. “So, you’re the one who’s finally going to tie Sherlock down,” she said, half-teasing, half-curious. She let out a soft giggle and smiled, amused by the younger woman’s boldness. “It seems so.” Enola stepped forward, her curiosity obvious. “I must say, I’m impressed. Sherlock’s never shown much interest in anything besides his cases. You must be quite extraordinary.”

“Not as extraordinary as you, Enola. Sherlock speaks highly of you,” she replied warmly, and that seemed to catch Enola off guard. Enola smiled, clearly pleased by the compliment. “Well, you’ve certainly earned my respect. Anyone who can handle Sherlock is worthy of admiration.”

As the girls exchanged more pleasantries, she felt a sense of warmth from Enola, a feeling of acceptance, even if it came with a bit of Holmes skepticism. It felt like the final piece of her integration into Sherlock’s life, meeting both Mycroft and Enola, and earning a place in the family dynamic that was uniquely theirs.

Later that evening, in the quiet of Sherlock’s flat at 221B Baker Street, she sat at his desk and wrote a letter to her family. Her parents, grandmother, and sister needed to be informed, though she was sure the news would spread quickly once the engagement was made official.

Dearest Mother, Father, Grandmother, & my dear Sister,

I write to you with news I never expected to share. After years of distance & time apart, I have returned to London & reunited with Sherlock Holmes. Our connection, though it was once left in the past, has rekindled, & I am pleased to inform you that I am now engaged to be married to him.

I know this news may come as a surprise, but please understand that this decision was made with great care and certainty. Sherlock has always held a special place in my heart, & I believe that this union will be one of love, companionship, & understanding.

Sister, I especially want you to know how much I look forward to you being by my side through this, & I can’t wait to tell you everything in person.

I will return home soon to speak with you all in person & explain further. In the meantime, know that I am happy and excited for what lies ahead.

With all my love,

Your daughter and sister

She sealed the letter, her heart feeling lighter as she prepared to send it. The wheels were in motion now. Everything was becoming real. Soon, her family would know, and the life she was about to build with Sherlock was just beginning.

[lisbeth-kk]

December moments

Prompts used in this chapter: stuck at home - season's greetings - baby please come home

If Sherlock ever gets jealous? Oh, yes! Normally he stares down or gives a venomous deduction to anyone who dares letting their eyes linger inappropriately on his John, but when John willingly contacts an old friend, Sherlock knows he needs to control his jealousy.

December 16

My fever has vanished when I wake, but I’m terribly thirsty. Even before I’ve considered calling John, he emerges in the doorway to the bedroom with a large glass of cold water. I try to speak, but he urges me to drink first. 

“Thank you, John,” I say when I’ve emptied half the glass. 

My voice is deeper than normal, and still hoarse. He greets me softly and places a palm on my forehead to check my temperature. 

“Feeling better today?” he asks. 

I nod, take his hand, places it on my cheek and lean into his palm. He bends down and kisses the top of my head. He refuses to bestow me with a kiss to my lips when I’m still ill. I huff my complaint and he pets my hair to make up for it. 

***

I’m obviously stuck at home for another day or two, which is fine, because I’m in no state to do much else than use the bathroom, make tea and doze on the sofa anyway. 

John’s writing his annual season’s greetings to major Sholto, and I can only grit my teeth and soldier on. I hate that John still corresponds with his former superior officer, despite it only happens once a year. It’s of course childish of me to be jealous of a relationship that was nowhere near what John and I have, but I can’t help the gnawing feeling in my gut. 

“Right, I’ll just pop out to post this and then I’m off to Barts to help Mike with a medical report he wanted my opinion on. He’s supposed to deliver it tomorrow. You’ll be alright now, I think. The fever is all but gone,” he says and cups my face, scanning my eyes while stroking my cheekbones. 

I close my eyes and revel in the proximity, humming appreciatively when I feel warm lips on my forehead. 

“Try to get some sleep, yeah,” John murmurs. 

The warmth I felt just now is gone within seconds of his departure. I try to sleep, I really do, but images of Sholto and John in their uniforms kissing in the Afghan desert, makes me nauseous. John is right, I do act like a child sometimes. In my defence, my brain seems to be filled with wool at the moment, and I’m unable to think rational about the matter. 

I turn on the telly, but everything reminds me of John, so I turn it off. After I’ve drunk a cup of tea, I try to enter my mind palace, but to no avail. Music, then. Since I’m too weak to play myself, I find a playlist John’s put together. It contains both classical and pop music. The classical pieces are soothing, and I must’ve dozed off, because when I wake it’s considerably darker outside. 

John’s still out and I feel sorry for myself. It doesn’t get any better when one of this Mariah Carey’s Christmas songs plays from my phone on the table. Baby please come home. What a fitting song for my mood. I reach out to skip it, but then she sings: you should be here with me, and I break down, sobbing like a child.

And that’s the state John finds me in mere minutes later. Normally I would’ve been embarrassed, but I’m beyond that and clings to him when he takes me in his arms and rocks me, whispering soothing words into my hair. 

“Shh. I’m back now. I’ll always come back to you, you know that, right? You’re my sweetheart, my good boy. How about some mulled wine to cheer you up? Would you like that?”

I love it when he does this, even if I shouldn’t. It makes me appear like a big child, but I need it. Desperately. John knows this. Knows how I crave being attended to when I’m in this vulnerable state. And there isn’t another person in the world I would want to see me in such a condition, who I can trust like I can trust John. He’s my rock, and knight in shining armour. My savour and the man I want to share the rest of my life with, whether it’ll be long or short. 

He holds me close when we go to bed, kissing and petting my hair until I fall asleep in his arms. 

Read it on AO3

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @safedistancefrombeingsmart @helloliriels @gregorovitchworld @sabsi221b @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @raina-at

[wisheswagered]

thinking about developing my headcanons for lily. under the cut, tw mentions of abuse, psychosis, and murder.

honestly i'd really like to give her a twisted sense of morality to an extent, because i love that in all my faves and i don't have enough of that in idv atm, but like... i want to make it clear that her moral beliefs are not the result of her psychosis / delusions, which her deductions and ability descriptions imply she has at least to an extent. those are a separate thing entirely.

specifically though, i've been experimenting with the idea that she thinks like... all things happen for a reason, or rather, because the world made her suffer (and that if the world/God let it happen, it's seemingly "justified"), she has the right to make other people "suffer" - and that "suffering" is actually good for them. i'm not sure if i'm explaining what i mean right, but like...

she wanted to kill her father to free herself and her mother, but worried it'd hurt the people who cared about her father & that she didn't have the right as a result. but galatea encouraged her to believe that actually, since lily is still choosing to have hope / be "happy" after what happened to her brother... those people could do the same, right? it's up to her how they choose to respond to misfortune, so she's not in the wrong for bringing "misfortune" upon them. kind of like - if the world is "just" (which she believes and has been taught it is), but the world also brings suffering to people including herself, then there must be something "right" in that suffering as well - maybe that it helps them learn or become better people/to appreciate what they have more?

mind you, while this is arguably a twisted mindset, i don't blame her or really think of her as in the wrong for killing her father at all, particularly since the police were basically paid off and refused to do anything about the abuse. but this mindset of hers could potentially lead her to hurting others in the future if she believes it's necessary/the right (or, well. "wrong.") circumstances come up. currently, she still doesn't want people to suffer and doesn't go around hurting them or anything, but it could lead to inaction on her part when someone else is going through something unfair, or being more quick to justify her own actions if she believes they're necessary for her own happiness.

but she still struggles with her own beliefs. because according to those beliefs, what happened to her brother should be "justified"/had a reason for it, but she still deep down believes it was unfair and that neither of them deserved it. so she copes by assuming that he will wake up one day, and that if he doesn't, it was to spare him from further suffering that would've happened to him if he'd awoken.

this is all very tentative, though. and i'm a little hesitant against giving more "twisted" beliefs to a psychotic character, even if her beliefs aren't the result of her psychosis at all, in case it leads to further stigma - so if anyone has any thoughts of what i could do better or if i'm doing anything that could be harmful here, please let me know. and thank you!

[inkmemes]

young  royals  (  2021  )  sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  netflix’s  swedish  ya  drama.  non-contextual  spoilers.  trigger  warning  for  mentions  of  sexual  activity,  drugs,  alcohol,  death,  implied  internalised  homophobia,  bullying.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“at least you can stay for a cup of coffee?”

“hey, wait up. did you sleep together?” 

“he's probably making out with someone. forget it.”

“i can't take it anymore.”

“what are you doing?”

“and he had to finish your sentence. what's going on? you like him.”

“every time you see your dad, you get all depressed.”

“you're still here, so obviously you must want something.”

“are you high? what the hell are you on?”

“does this make you horny?” 

“i like [town name], but i don't want to live here forever.”

“you can leave now. go home. i'm staying here for the weekend.”

“do you want chocolate?”

“how do you feel?” 

“it's kind of hard to tell them apart, you know.” 

“you're a worthless drunk.”

“you … you need to figure out what you want. and you can take all the time you need. and i respect that. but you have to do it by yourself. i don't want to be anyone's secret.”

“you have to stop pretending that you're not afraid.”

“that's the thing, i just don't want that.”

“it's something new. something fresh.”

“can we talk privately for a minute?” 

“and if anyone gives you a hard time, you know, just let me know, and i'll take care of it.” 

“you do know you don't need to hide?” 

“are you gonna let us in?”

“promise to let me know if there's anything i can do.”

“hey, we won't go blind from your moonshine, right?”

“i'm just getting a good vibe. that's all.”

“you're so fucking pathetic.”

“you realize that this will have consequences?”

“he's such a fucking idiot.”

“i wanted us to have a few minutes alone.”

“when you're young, love feels like the most important thing in the world.” 

“i really like you.”

“felt like i had to rescue you from that situation.”

“it got so damn hot in there, i thought i'd get some fresh air.”

“you are allowed your own opinions. it's cool.”

“i've seen the way you look at each other.”

“here, this one is a little big for me, but i think it'll look great on you.”

“do you think royal dick is different than regular?”

“you're the only one here i feel i can actually talk to.” 

“i haven't heard anything yet, but i'll tell you as soon as i do.”

“you can't just lie here jerking off.”

“i don't want to go to some fucking boarding school!”

“i've missed this place so much.”

“are you going to horror movie night on friday?”

“but i like you. and that is not fake.”

“you don't need to share everything.”

“we should go to a concert again sometime.”

“you're fucking crazy!”

“where have you been? i've been trying to reach you.”

“just don't use the school's wi-fi for porn surfing. could be embarrassing.”

“but no matter what, they can't dictate what you say.”

“sorry about last night.”

“i don't want to talk to you!”

“i don't wanna sound like an idiot.”

“i was thinking, would you like to have a sleepover at my place? because that's something friends do. it's going to be really cozy.”

“i think maybe we should forget about that.”

“you can't really see that it is you.”

“i mean, it could be anyone. it's so fucking stupid.”

“i don't want to say anything.” 

“now you're doing it again. you're trying to take care of me.” 

“i can take it, it's okay.”

“that's not true. i haven't spoken to my parents.”

“we haven't done anything wrong.”

“you're beautiful! you're so beautiful.”

“i'm gay, [name].”

“seriously? what the fuck is your problem?”

“you keep letting people piss on you!”

“i just assumed you didn't want special treatment.”

“keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“so you thought you'd start spreading false rumours without having any proof?” 

“i just didn't want to lose you.”

“uh, there's pizza left if you want some.”

“everybody thinks you're perfect. you know that, right?”

“he's just been outed.”

“i'm going to fuck this up.”

“he bloody ruined my fucking life!”

“why are you sitting in your room sulking when you have a crush to hang out with?”

“hi. sorry, i was feeling a bit better. so i thought it was okay that i hung out with some friends.”

"everyone should be allowed to live as gay or straight or whatever they want.”

“i woke up in my own bed. that's always something.”

“could i just have one second? just one second alone, please?”

“i’m sorry. but it was, like, the only way.”

“i thought, everyone deserves a second chance.”

“i'm sorry about the mess. i wasn't expecting such distinguished company.”

“i just don't want you to be treated badly again.”

“oh, fuck.”

“you don't even… aren't you even gonna answer me?”

“i didn't know that one was supposed to sign up.”

“in real life, you don't pay to get ahead.”

“and what the fuck does your dad do?”

“let's try to have some table manners.”

“it's, like, really serious.”

“who the hell can live like this for three fucking years?”

“that's what happens when you buy the cheap ones.”

“i need your help with something. ”

“being a prince is not a punishment, but a privilege.”

“it's awesome to just chill out.”

“or maybe he lied about that too. what do i know?”

“you have to give people a chance.”

“you have to try to see it from my perspective.” 

“what the hell's this?”

“what happened to "we should forget about it"?”

“stop being so fucking stubborn and try to understand my situation.”

“sometimes it's better not to say everything.” 

“i was just bored.”

“have you ever had a boyfriend?”

“sometimes it's better to keep quiet.”

“can i get you some coffee?”

“nobody else cares about these things.”

“i lost track of time.”

“everybody does the same things and everybody knows everybody.”

“thanks for rescuing me yesterday.”

“remember when he came up to us the first week and was like, "what's up?"”

“i need you to delete all our texts.”

“i can't keep doing this anymore.”

“are you gonna let them go on with their bullshit?”

“i want to be with you.”

“here's a blanket, a pillow, and bed sheets. there you go.”

“okay, yeah. you don't seem to have grasped what i'm trying to say.”

“it's usually boring as hell.”

“he's been dealing to us for months.”

“i don't want to talk to him.”

“don't you wanna date [name] anymore?”

“i don't know why he's started texting me again. he knows i don't want anything to do with him.” 

“yeah, we had a shitload of drugs.”

“we could murder someone, and nobody would say a word.”

“she needs some fun.”

“he's just doing it to fuck with me.”

“it's such a weird question.”

“i just wanted to say hi. i don't believe we've met. ”

“but i still want us to be friends.”

“if i were to stay here… would you… like to keep me company? just you and me.”

“everything's, like, upside down now.”

“have you always lived here?”

“damn it. sorry. shit. i completely forgot.”

“i'm sure someone has a story to tell.”

“you've got to put yourself first. i mean, no matter what he thinks about it.”

“come on! you can't just sit there stuck in your room.”

“you can snuggle up in my safe arms if it gets scary.”

“i want to live a normal life.”

“let me have a look. you can hardly see it.”

“any other dick that's been sucked?”

“you just expect everything to be on your terms.”

“i want to know everything!”

“you don't have to go there. i'll take care of myself.”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” 

“i'll just stay in and go to bed early.”

“thanks for explaining the schedule.”

“i'd rather die.”

“i don't want you to be mad.”

“promise to tell me if something is wrong.”

“i can't be dressed like this if you're dressed like that.” 

“it's really complicated.”

“it feels like you don't care what people think about you, or if you have a lot of friends and stuff.” 

“nobody asked you to come. feel free to leave if you want.”

“well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this!” 

“there isn't so much to do around here.”

“you've become such a snob.”

“i know you're only trying to help me.” 

“do you like it here?”

“i don't wanna go in there. we're not even invited. fuck this.”

“don't you think it's weird [name] invited us to come?”

“if they hadn't been here, would you've, uh, made out with me?”

“so, you're an actual proper couple now?”

“you're thinking about someone else.”

“you're right. we're doing this together.”

“thanks… for nothing.”

“why are you even so obsessed with him?”

“i want you to hold me.”

“call me when you want to be picked up.”

“what the fuck do you care?” 

“i don't think we're a couple or anything. i don't know what it is.”

“you never asked me!”

“your focus should be on comforting me so that i can comfort him.” 

“it's not that hard. you have to be able to keep up appearances.”

“famous people make videos like that.”

“maybe somebody forgot to tell me, as usual.”

“just make a move on [name] and show him what you want.”

“you wanna stay a while and jam?”

“have you talked to your parents about it?”

“a diverse bunch of losers, who'll never amount to anything.”

“why can't i decide how the hell i want to live?”

“apparently, i'm the only one who doesn't know everybody.”

“i used to have straight a's on every test.”

“it will damage our reputation.”

“i'm fucking starving.”

“why is it called tax "evasion" but welfare "scam"? it's all right that rich people cheat, but when poor people do it, it's messed up. for rich people, it's not even called "welfare”, it's called "deduction."”

“what the fuck is rowing?”

“what the hell have you done, [name]?”

“good voice, man.”

“why can't i just have a relationship with him?”

“did you have fun last friday?”

“all the people are fake. they're made out of metal.”

what do you want me to say? i'm sorry!”

“is this some kind of prank?”

“i like you when you are yourself!”

“but you like him, don't you?”

“she shouldn't talk to you like that.”

“are you into him?”

“something's not right, i think we should head back to the road.”

“do you have trouble sleeping?”

“doesn't anyone care what i want?”

“just don't tell anyone that i've been here.”

“i was going to text you back, but…”

“your only mistake was that you hung out with the wrong kind of people.”

“i just wanted to help.”

“i know you'll use anything to get high or drunk.” 

“it's time to stop being so selfish.”

“i just want my fucking money.”

“you should've planned ahead. didn't you bring a sandwich?” 

“who the fuck wants to be normal anyway?”

“you fucking told me you were the one i could always come to!”

“i take it back.”

“i can see there's something going on.”

“i have to finish getting ready, so if you could please leave.”

“no one likes me when i'm myself.” 

“i hope you have a nice christmas.”

“i'm gonna do the wrong things, say the wrong things.”

“my mom is gonna kill me.”

“do you remember what you said to me last night?”

“i cannot be dragged into this.”

“i like you too.”

“you're no longer a part of my family.”

“it's well-suited for smaller people.”

“i assume that he thought that it would make him popular.”

“i didn't ask for this!”

“it's no problem. i like doing it.”

“it feels like i'm gonna throw up.”

“don't i get any breakfast?”

“whatever i do, i can't do anything right.”

“we haven't been to any party whatsoever.”

“did you get my texts?”

“i think it sounds romantic.”

“uh, wait, you have to come to the horror movie night on friday.”

“i liked what you said in there, [name].”

“okay, maybe he used to be a player, but love can actually change you.”

“it's nice to make an effort and dress up for dinner.” 

“i'm in a fucked-up situation and i'm trying to talk to you.” 

“you don't understand. i was gonna pay it.”

“you're not that kind of guy.”

“i was about to go outside and, um, do you wanna come with?”

“what about me?” 

“it was… okay, i guess.”

“can i sit with you?”

“you call this a scary movie?”

“i have a million things to take care of, i don't have time to talk to you.”

“have you lost it completely?”

“but i'm starving.”

“this past year has been difficult for me.”

“i don't get it. she's making it into such a big deal.”

“no, this won't work. just take it off, please.” 

“i'm not like that.”

“fuck you. it's not a crush.”

“then i know that i can't count on you.”

“can't you come see me in [town] sometime?”

“it's just that we can't be seen together.” 

“he was still sleeping when i walked in.”

“doesn't bother me at all. i've seen it. absolutely. 100%.”

“[name] is really getting on my nerves! seriously.”

“i want us to be friends again.”

“i thought you and [name] were friends.”

“make sure you check your dms. okay?”

“you think it's fun to fuck with people like me?”

“never spend money you don't have. okay?”

“you think i'm stupid?”

“this sucks.” 

“how nice to see some smiles.”

“this isn't just about me, but my entire family.”

“i'm going to marry her.”

“are you threatening me?”

“don't you realize the shit storm that follows if i come out?” 

“i don't want you to talking to her.”

“remember what we saw during movie night? when they sat next to each other?”

“i love you.”

“i just want to hang out with you.”

"there's no point in having a back-up if you never use it."

“pretend i'm saying something clever.”

“how's [name]? he must be totally devastated.”

“what do you think they think we're talking about?”

“everything is fake. everything in the world is fake.”

“[name] is dead.”

“it just wasn't what i thought it would be like.”

“since when did you start liking him for real?” 

“what a fucking douchebag. god!”

“what the hell are you saying? chill out!”

[nugnthopkns]

felt the lightning under my skin

word count: 13.7k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, little bit of asshole joel, alcohol consumption, slight innuendo, moderate depiction of injury, needles

recommended listening: under the spell | springtime carnivore

a/n: i know figure skater/hockey player romances are terribly cliche but i couldn’t help myself. as an ex-skater hopefully i can make it a little less cringe. there’s probably an obscene amount of technical jargon in here and i sincerely apologize. the injury mentioned actually happened to me and let me tell you, it was not fun lmao. enjoy!

Joel swears he’s going to kill whoever’s in charge of renting out the practice facility.

Realistically, he knows it’s impossible. The rink can be rented by anyone when the Flyers aren’t using it and he typically thinks it’s a great way to promote ice sports in the community. Joel just wishes the facilities manager didn’t rent it out to figure skaters. They kick the shit out of the ice with their toe picks and leave the ice in terrible quality. It frustrates Joel because while community engagement is important, his career and the team take precedence. 

No one else seems to be bothered by the recent decline in ice conditions. Most of his teammates are used to poor ice, growing up playing pond hockey and at rinks that also housed figure skating clubs. While Joel had those experiences as well, he clearly never developed the same nonchalance as everyone else. He complains in the dressing room after every practice until Kevin finally says something. 

“Christ Beezer, relax. It’s only for another month or so until renovations at the other rink finish.”

Others chime in, telling him to not take it so seriously, with a couple of them defending the right of the other athletes to use the ice as they so please. The grief Joel catches is enough to shut him up, but he still stews privately over the fact figure skaters are destroying his happy place. 

☼☼☼☼

You want nothing more than to return to your home rink. The Flyers Skate Zone has been nice, the staff are incredibly accommodating, but something feels off. You’re having a harder time landing jumps and skating clean programs. The change in routine is enough to knock you off your game, which is something you absolutely can’t have. You’re coming off a breakthrough season, finishing on the podium at nationals and landing a spot on your first world championships roster. People are expecting you to replicate your success and you want to do that and more. 

US Figure Skating had taken a chance placing you on the national team for the current season. Though it was expected, they could have easily chosen the fourth place skater instead. She’s much younger than you, barely fifteen, and is yet to have a serious injury. At twenty you’re barely an adult, but this could be the last time you get an opportunity like this. The sport keeps getting younger and you’re going to get left behind if you don’t prove yourself. The grand prix circuit has been kind to you, allowing you to earn medals at some of the smaller competitions and hold your own against the big dogs in the majors like NHK Trophy. 

☼☼☼☼

“Try the triple flip again,” Brenda, your coach, instructs. “You could be more solid on the landing.”

“It’s this fucking ice! I can do one at home that would get me a high GOE,” you complain. 

She rolls her eyes and thinks about telling you off, but decides against it. No matter how many times she tells you it’s a mental block you need to get over, you find a way to blame the training facility. “Just give me five solid ones and we’ll call it quits.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you peel away from the boards anyways. Some juniors are mingling in a corner and you warn them to watch out as you skate by gaining speed. The first attempt feels natural, and though you could have been a little stronger on the exit it’s a significant improvement from what you were doing earlier in the session. Jumps two and three also go well, but things go wrong on the fourth try. You catch a bad edge just before takeoff and aren’t able to correct your center of gravity while in the air. Two and a half rotations happen before you slam into the ground. The entire right side of your body feels like it’s been run over by a bus. 

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration as you pick yourself up off the ice. Circling back to examine just how bad the edge was you notice your pick created much too large a hole, something you’d get points deducted for in competition. Brenda signals you over to her, and you hang your head as you skate over. 

“You’re done,” she sighs. You can tell it pains her to see your progress plateau, but you’re doing everything you can to get out of this rut. Before you can protest, try to convince her to let you stay on, she’s speaking again. “Our ice time is up anyways. Go cool down and meet me in the conference room when you’re done.”

There’s nothing for you to do but sulk off the ice. The other skaters clear out of your way, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your anger. You direct it at the dressing room door, kicking it open so harshly it flies back on the hinges. It makes you feel a bit better but you’re still in a sour mood as you untie your skates. It’s frustrating not being able to perform at the level you know you can, even in practice. If you could just get out of this rink and back into the one you’re most comfortable at. 

After a much longer stretching routine than normal, you pack up your bag and head upstairs for what will no doubt be one of those meetings where you sit silently and take the heat. You realize that your behaviour today was childish, but you couldn’t help but let your emotions overcome you. The next group is well into their ice time when you pass by, and you realize it’s the Flyers. Most of them don’t acknowledge you and keep running drills, but one who looks about your age is sending you daggers. You have no idea why. 

The meeting goes much better than you thought it would. Brenda takes your anger in stride and lets you apologize for your outburst before shifting the conversation to altering your training plan. She suggests you take a few days off from the rink, working strictly off-ice, and you begrudgingly agree. There isn’t anything you can do or say to change her mind so you take the updated workout plans with a fake smile. She also tells you that your appointment with your sports psychologist has been moved up a couple of days, which you’re grateful for. Things then move to talking strategy and watching tape of competitors to see what to expect at this year’s nationals. The event is just over a month out, and you have the goal of landing on the podium once again, hopefully with the gold medal dangling around your neck. 

A couple of hours pass with you holed up in the conference room, and it’s dark when you gather your stuff and head for home. The complex is deserted and you assume no one but the staff are still here. It turns out someone else was there, and they follow you out, their own gear bag slung over their shoulder. You don’t really pay them any mind, holding the door open out of habit, and fail to recognize the person as the boy who glared while you walked by hours prior. He notices you, however, and makes a point to voice his distaste. 

“Hey!” he calls out, “Next time you eat shit don’t put such a big hole in the ice. Other people need it too.”

“Get fucked,” you yell back. You really don’t have the time or energy to be accosted by a hockey player. He continues to talk, but you don’t hear it because you slam your car door shut and drive off into the darkness. 

☼☼☼☼

Joel doesn’t feel like he was in the wrong until Claude suggests he apologize a few days later. In his mind, he has every right to be upset about you damaging the ice because it directly affected him. The hole you caused couldn’t be fully repaired, and he tripped at a really key moment during the scrimmage. His bad day was your fault. 

“You can’t blame a tough practice on her man,” Claude says as the two of them skate a few warm-up laps. “She didn’t mean to fall. Hell, she didn’t want to do it.”

“I get it, or whatever, but it’s still her fault. We’re professional athletes G, we need to be at the top of our games.”

Claude swats Joel upside the head. “So is she! Did you know that she’s favoured to win both the national and world championships? And that things look good for her to be on the Olympic team next year?”

Joel didn’t know, and guilt twinges his stomach. The next time he runs into you at the rink he’s going to apologize. 

☼☼☼☼

You spend your time away from the rink conditioning and regaining focus. The first couple of days are tough, but then you settle into a routine you believe will ultimately make you a better athlete and competitor. Your cardio and weights are upped, and you’re anxious to see how the increase improves your performance. At the suggestion of your psychologist you take a few more days off than originally planned, but it’s the best thing you could have done. You return to the rink ready to nail the final few weeks of training before nationals. 

Any other coach would have detested you for taking a week off this close to a major competition, but not Brenda. She understands that you needed time to refocus and that you’ll work harder than anyone else in the time until you leave for Salt Lake City. Your first practice is fantastic – every element is clean when isolated and within your programs. The timing is off a bit during your free skate on the first run-through but your jitters settle quickly and the next one is spot on. It feels good to be back in control of things. 

“I think you’re over that mental block kid,” Brenda laughs when you stop along the boards to get some water. “You’re skating better here than at home.”

You can’t help but agree. “You know, I don’t hate it here as much as I used to. Think we should move here permanently?” The comment earns you a slightly aggressive hair ruffling, but it’s worth it. You spend the last hour of ice time alone, running through both of your programs in a mock competition setting. 

It’s nearly silent in the complex when Joel sneaks through the doors. The only thing he can hear is the faint sounds of your music from inside the pad. He had been worried that you were never going to reappear at the rink but learned you were just taking a break when he cornered your coach in the parking lot. The middle-aged lady had told him when you’d be returning and Joel immediately put it in his calendar so he wouldn’t forget. Now, as he stands against the glass watching you, he’s nervous. What if you don’t accept his apology?

Joel knew you were a good skater. Well, he was pretty sure you were. He spent the short three-day road trip to Florida watching as many videos of you competing on YouTube as he could find. Though he’s murky on the specifics of what makes a good figure skater, Joel knows you put heart and soul into every performance and that your elements are strong technically. Your scores reflect that. Regardless, Joel is blown away at how talented you are when he watches you skate in person. 

You’re looser than in the videos he’s seen, probably because there isn’t any pressure, but you don’t give it any less than your all. The music drives you forward in a way Joel’s never seen before – you’re an extension of it, and it of you. As you round a corner to pick up speed he holds his breath. From watching footage of this program from earlier in the season, he knows you’re about to attempt your hardest element. The quadruple salchow is one of the hardest jumps female skaters are attempting at the moment, according to his research, and it’s been your most inconsistent element this season. You’re completing the jump before Joel realizes you’ve taken off the ground, but you don’t fall. He exhales and watches the rest of the program in awe. 

When the music stops and you take in your surroundings, you notice the applause. Thinking it’s just from Brenda, you shrug it off, but when you turn around she isn’t clapping. It’s coming from someone else – the boy who was a douchebag the last day before your break. The chances are he’s here to make another stupid comment, but Brenda insists you should talk to him. You wave him over to a section near the benches that dosen’t have glass so you can hear him better. 

“What do you want?” you ask bluntly, taking a sip of water. 

Joel’s taken aback by your abrasiveness but recovers quickly. He deserves it. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for what I said last week. That wasn’t cool. I was having a bad day and took out on you, I’m sorry,” he rambles. “And you’re like really good.”

“It wasn’t fucking cool,” you agree, “But we’re fine. I had just been kicked off the ice when you caught me, so I’m sorry too. For snapping.” There’s nothing more for either of you to say, and Brenda is calling your name, so you skate away from him. Over your shoulder you call out, “Thanks for the compliment unnamed Flyers player!”

“It’s Joel!” he responds. “Joel Farabee.”

☼☼☼☼

A sort of truce befalls you and Joel. More of your ice time overlaps, but neither you acknowledge each other more than the occasional nod in each other’s direction. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Preparing for nationals is the only that matters currently, and trying to navigate a possible friendship would be too much of a distraction. Joel is a little put off you don’t try to extend pleasantries, but when it’s explained to him that you’re entering a period that is similar to the lead-up to playoffs he understands. 

However, he finds himself making up excuses to stay at the rink to watch you practice. He blows off dinner with Kevin and drinks with Morgan when you have the slot after practice, and when you skate before him he’s at the rink hours early. His schoolboy crush becomes the topic of locker room gossip. Though Joel swears up and down that he just likes to watch you skate, none of the guys believe him. They don’t go as far as to embarrass him in your presence, but Travis certainly tries. What Joel doesn’t know is that you’re developing the same sort of fascination with him. You find yourself turning on every Flyers game you can fit into your schedule, watching him intently, and keeping an eye on his stats. 

“That boy sure has a lot of interest in you,” Brenda muses one day while you’re talking strategy on how to increase the points total on your short program. 

“I don’t know why,” you sigh. “So I was thinking, if I raise my arms during the triple lutz it should give me at least three more points.”

She looks at you like you’ve gained two extra heads. “Are you insane? You’ve never raised your arms during a triple.”

Your smile turns into a wicked smirk. “It can’t be that hard.”

It’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. Though you’ve added the extra step to jumps in the past, it’s been on single and doubles to rack up points and GOE scores. Jumping has never been your strong suit, and trying to navigate the change in your centre of gravity is difficult. You spend the rest of your ice time popping, under-rotating, or slamming into the ground. A couple of juniors snicker at your failed attempts, but when you remind them they’re stuck on a double loop they stop laughing. It was a little mean, and you remember how hard it was to prove yourself as a junior, but you can’t find it in you to care. There’s no need to laugh at someone trying to improve their skating. 

Bruises start to form on your sides from falling the exact same way so many times, and you trace them lightly through the thin material of your compression top. They’re going to look nasty in a few hours if you don’t ice them soon. A knock on the door stops your actions, and you invite the person on the other side in. To your surprise it’s Joel, and he’s holding an ice pack. 

“I thought you might need one of these,” he says, extending it to you. 

You thank him and hiss slightly when the cold hits your skin. There’s a beat of awkward silence before Joel speaks again. “Can I ask why you’re trying to change that jump?”

“You noticed that?” you know it isn’t a response to his question, but you’re shocked. 

Joel smiles and nods. You explain how changing the position of your arms increases the difficulty of the jump and therefore raises the amount of points it can receive. “So you’re doing it to get more points?”

“Pretty much. It’s a gamble this close to competition, but I’m confident it’ll work out.”

“You’re afraid your program won’t gain enough points to put you in a good position for the free skate,” he notes, “Or you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Once again, you’re floored by Joel’s understanding of your sport. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” you say as confidently as you can. “But maybe I just want the challenge.” If Joel notices the shake in your voice and the worried look in your eye he doesn’t say anything. 

You go through your cool-down routine but are surprised Joel doesn’t leave. In fact, he stays at the rink until you’re finished and follows you to the parking lot. His car is parked a few spots over from you, so you have to raise your voice a little to get him to hear you. “Hey Joel,” you call, “Do you not have practice?”

“Day off,” he yells back. He’s grinning like an idiot, which prompts you to ask him why. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.” The smile on his face doesn’t go away, and you try to settle the butterflies in your stomach as you drive home. 

☼☼☼☼

Something shifts between you and Joel after that day. It’s subtle, but you’re well on your way to becoming friends. Phone numbers are exchanged, with him insisting his contact name be ‘King Beezer’, and the two of you chat regularly outside of the rink. He still watches as many training sessions as he can, and you start making appearances at his practices. It’s far more awkward for you but you push through it if for no other reason than wanting to be a good sport. Once Joel’s teammates catch wind of your budding friendship, they’re pestering you to go to a game. You politely decline each time, explaining that your training schedule is rather rigid and you can’t change it so close to nationals. The competition is just over a week out, and you’re catching a flight to Utah in three days. 

Joel doesn’t let you know he’s a little upset you won’t shift your schedule for him. Instead, he brings you lunch on days where you’re at the rink for eight hours and does his individual workouts alongside you. The two of you fall into the easy routine of enjoying each other’s company and everyone else is beginning to take notice. 

“So,” you say with a mouth full of the pita Joel brought you, “What are your plans for the All-Star break?”

Joel has been toying with an idea for a few weeks now, but he’s keeping it a secret. “I’m just gonna spend it at home with my family,” he shrugs. 

“You’re fucking joking. Joel, you could be someplace warm enjoying the beach!”

“I don’t want to go to the beach,” Joel retorts. 

You open your mouth to argue with him, because you’re of the opinion that everyone should love the beach, but you’re cut off by Brenda calling you to return to the ice. “This conversation isn’t over Beezer,” you say sternly, poking him in the chest to prove your point. He rolls his eyes. 

“I’ve gotta be at Wells Fargo in an hour for a team meeting, so I can’t watch this session,” he tells you. You’re a little deflated but understand he can’t play hookie from his job to watch you do yours. Brenda is banging a skate guard on the boards to get your attention, so you wave goodbye and jog over to her. “Y/N,” Joel yells loud enough that you’ll hear him over the chatter on the ice, “Keep your core tight!”

Your coaching team is perplexed at the comment because it’s second nature to you at this point, but you think it’s sweet. Some of the other girls poke fun at your ‘boyfriend’ and it makes you irritable. Brenda tells them off and suggests they get back to work which makes you feel better. You keep Joel’s advice in the back of your mind for the rest of your practice, and land every jump almost flawlessly. 

The day before you board your flight you have a terrible practice. Brenda chalks it up to nerves, but you that’s not it. You feel good about the competition and are confident it will go well. Something is off – you just can’t put a finger on it. Frustration eventually boils over and practice is called early. Everyone stays out of your way, letting you cool off, and you huff out a goodbye after promising to meet Brenda at the airport in the morning. Before you’re even out the door you’ve got your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for Joel to pick up. The Flyers got to start their break a day early due to a scheduling conflict and you hope he doesn’t fly home tonight. 

“What’s up?” Joel says casually. Judging by the background noise he’s playing video games, no doubt some dumb first-person shooter game he seems to play constantly. The sound of his voice is enough to send you into tears and you can’t get out a reply. His tone changes instantly and the noise stops – the game paused and forgotten about. “Hey,” he soothes, “What’s wrong?”

“Practice was bad,” you choke out, “Like really bad. Joel, I don’t think I can do this.” Now across the parking lot and at your car, you throw your bag in the trunk and crumble into the driver’s seat. 

“Of course you can. Want me to bring dinner over and we can do whatever?” You agree, not wanting to be alone, and hang up only after insisting you’re okay to drive the twenty minutes to your apartment. 

Joel must have drove well above the speed limit because he pulls into the parking lot at the same time as you. His engine is turned off jarringly fast, and he’s popping your trunk to grab your bag before your gears have settled in park. Though you put up some rather weak protests about carrying your own stuff, Joel ignores them. When you insist on holding something he tosses you the bag of food he brought with him. Opening it up, you realize Joel had stopped at your favourite sushi restaurant even though he doesn’t like the food. A smile creeps onto your face, possibly the first one all day, and you lean into Joel slightly when he wraps an arm around your shoulder. 

The two of you eat in silence, but it’s far from awkward. Joel’s waiting for you to open up, knows you will eventually, and you’re trying to find the words. However, they’re yet to appear, so you let Joel lead you to the couch and put on an episode of some crime show he’s currently watching. 

“Thanks for coming over,” you say as the credits roll on the second episode. 

Joel sends a smile your way, which you do your best to reciprocate. “Don’t worry about it. This is what friends do.” 

Slowly, you open up about practice, venting about how you skated sloppily and couldn’t nail any element no matter how simple it was. You tell him about how tense your muscles are and how scared you are that your fifteen minutes of fame are over, that you’ll never get another chance to represent America on the world stage. Joel listens attentively, letting you speak for as long as you need. At some point you start crying again and he tucks you into his side. Your tears soak through his sweatshirt but he could care less. When you’ve laid all your emotions out on the table he speaks gently, dispelling your doubts and letting you know that you can do it and he believes in you. Joel’s words make it easier to believe in yourself. 

The two of you spend the night on the couch, and you’re disheartened when your alarm goes off. You can’t stay in the little bubble Joel created for the two of you – the world and its responsibilities taking precedence over your fantasy. He drives you to the airport, rationalizing it by telling you it’ll be safer to keep your car at home. Realistically there isn’t a difference, but you thank him anyways. Parking is just one last thing you have to worry about. When you reach the airport entrance, Joel pulls into the idling lane and steps out of the car. You follow him, dragging your feet a bit because though you’re excited for nationals you don’t want to leave Joel. This will be the longest time the two of you have been apart since becoming friends.

“Make sure you don’t forget about me when you win and get all famous,” Joel jokes, handing you your suitcase. 

You swat his shoulder playfully. “Like you’d let that happen.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Come here.”

He takes you in his arms. You’ve hugged Joel a couple of times before, but they didn’t feel as serious as this. This time he’s holding you for a purpose and you’re gripping the back of his jacket tightly because you want him to let go. It’s longer than people who are just friends are meant to hug for, so you begrudgingly pull away. Besides, Brenda and some of your teammates are waiting. 

“Have a good time at home,” you mumble. 

Joel wraps a single arm around you for one more squeeze. “You have a good time,” he says seriously. “Remember to enjoy the moment. I’ll be watching on T.V.” 

With your goodbyes said you wander into the airport. Joel says parked in his spot until he sees you embrace Brenda before driving off. The boarding process is painless, and once on the plane you take your seat beside a junior and put your headphones on. Downloaded to your Spotify is one of Joel’s hip-hop playlists, and though it’s the farthest thing from the music you enjoy you listen to it the whole flight.

☼☼☼☼

Utah’s nice, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing – Joel’s missing. You’ve become so accustomed to him watching you train, clapping like an idiot every time you land a jump, that the silence is unnerving. Everyone notices the shift in your performance, and eventually Brenda crumbles and uses your phone to facetime him while you practice. It’s a decent enough substitute – Joel watches your pixelated figure zip around the ice and though he doesn’t always make comments, just know he’s with you in some capacity is enough to let your mind focus on the task at hand. You do the best you can at pushing away the butterflies that appear every time you think about how he’s giving up his freedom to make sure you succeed. 

When you aren’t training or doing press you’re talking to Joel. You call him constantly, narrating what you see on walks around town to settle your nerves and eating at the same time to make it feel like you’re together. The only person to support you in Salt Lake City is Brenda, so talking to Joel frequently makes you feel far less alone. You wish he could be here with you, but understand he needs time to recharge and can’t just follow you around the country no matter how much you’d like him to. 

“What time do you skate tomorrow?” Joel asks, mouth full of the pizza he’s enjoying. The features behind are different, so you assume he’s settled into his childhood home. 

“Um, I think 11:35? I’m not entirely sure,” you respond. Due to the way the event is seeded you’re skating second last, which both settles your nerves and makes you more anxious. There isn’t the pressure of closing out the event, but there’s hope that you’ll score high enough to win the short program and skate last in the free skate. 

Joel hums pensively. “I’ll check the website.” Conversation shifts away from skating, which you’re grateful for. It’s the last thing you currently want to think about. You listen with interest as Joel recounts stories of the pond hockey matches he’s played since getting home. The two of you are on the phone until nearly ten, when you have to say goodnight and head to bed. Tomorrow marks the start of the biggest week of your year. 

You follow your pre-competition routine to the letter. At other events this season you’ve been more relaxed, but your professional skating career depends on your performance at nationals so you aren’t taking chances. Five-thirty comes faster than you thought it would, but you’re out of bed and eating your first breakfast quickly. A quick two mile run follows, and then you’re having a shower and grabbing a second breakfast to eat at the rink. You meet Brenda in the hotel lobby before ubering to the rink. A solid practice follows, and you manage to keep your imposter syndrome on a leash in the presence of the other skaters. 

“It’s Joel,” Brenda says as she tosses you your phone. 

“Hey,” you say, squeezing the device between your ear and shoulder. “I don’t have much time to talk. My warm up call is soon.”

Joel laughs and you find yourself cracking a smile at the sound. “I know. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling.”

“Honestly? I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous for a competition.”

His response is cut off by a loud noise. “Where are you?” you ask. 

“Just at home,” he says quickly. “My sister has some friends over and they’re being loud.”

The line is compelling enough that you don’t question how hastily it was delivered. Joel stays on the phone until you have to go, keeping your mind off the jittery feeling in your stomach. The TV cameras catch you talking but you give them a cheery wave and continue telling Joel about how good the soap at your hotel smells. You hang up when they call your flight to take to the ice for warmup and give your phone back to Brenda for safe keeping. 

☼☼☼☼

Joel tries hard not to feel too out of place while he takes his seat. For someone who practically lives in arenas he feels like it’s his first time within fifty yards of one. Everyone around him is dressed nicely, and he’s acutely aware of the fact there is a neon orange pom-pom attached to the top of his hat. 

As much as he feels like a baby deer trying to stand, Joel’s beyond excited to be here. It’s been a while since he’s gone somewhere that wasn’t hockey related and getting to support you while he does it is the best scenario ever. There are some potential looks of recognition from those around him, but thankfully no one approaches. 

Skaters begin to take the ice and he scans vigilantly for you. You’re doing the best you can to stay warm, jacket zipped all the way up and gloves on your hands. Joel notices you seem to be the loosest of the girls below him but isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. You skate a few quick laps before warming up some jumps. Everything goes well, though he can tell you under-rotated a few of them and didn’t attempt the one quad in your program. The warm up is over as quickly as it began and you’re herded off the ice. Joel sinks a little further in his seat as gets ready to watch your competitors. 

☼☼☼☼

There’s just over five minutes until you take to the ice. You keep your body moving, walking up and down the corridor, and blast your pre-competition playlist so loud you’ll probably have hearing damage when you’re older. Only one other girl in the hall with you but it feels too small. Brenda comes to grab you and the pair of you walk to the side of the boards. You don’t watch who’s currently skating, choosing instead to focus on adjusting your feet slightly in your skates. 

“Go out there and put on a show,” Brenda says. “Fuck the judges.”

You laugh at her remark. “Okay Bren, when I lose points for flipping them off I’m blaming you.”

“Fine by me. I have a bone to pick with Mark Johnson anyways.”

The scores for the previous girl are being announced, so you peel your jacket from your frame and do a couple more laps. Right before your name is announced you press your forehead to Brenda’s. It’s a ritual you started back when you were barely as tall as the boards and you’ve done it every single competition since. You feel grounded looking in her eyes, and you break with a fist bump. It’s go time. 

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire. You didn’t come to play, and leave everything on the ice. The skate isn’t completely clean, you stumbled on the landing of a triple axel, but you’re happy with it. Despite your fears, both the triple lutz and quad salchow go smoothly. Audience engagement was at an all time high and you finished to deafening applause. Brenda wraps you in a tight hug when you step off the ice before leading you over to the kiss and cry. You chat idly with her and your choreographer, trying to catch your breath, while you wait for your score. 

The announcer’s booming voice crackles over the PA as he reads the judges’ decision. “The scores for Y/N Y/L/N please.” You don’t pay attention to the individual numbers, just the final total. “For a total score of 74.83.”

It’s lower than you had hoped for. Not by much, just two or three points, but it could mean all the difference in tomorrow’s skate. Brenda pats your leg sympathetically and whispers in your, “It’s alright. You skated well.”

You head back to the dressing room to watch the final skater on the small T.V in the corner while you get undressed. She’s phenomenal, and you end the day falling to third place. Joel’s hip-hop playlist blasts through your headphones as you do your cool down routine. The average tempo is upbeat and helps to take your mind off the fact you’re not where you want to be. Just as you’re about to exit the room and find Brenda to talk strategy there’s a knock on the door. 

“Yeah?” you say dejectedly, the word coming out as more of a sigh than you had intended. 

The door is cracked open, and the head of your best friend peaks out from around it. “Hey there rockstar,” Joel says softly, stepping further into the room. Once you comprehend that he’s really here you’re sprinting in his direction, jumping into his embrace. Joel’s laugh reverberates in his chest, and you feel it as you settle further into him. 

“Why are you here?” you whisper. Though you’re elated Joel is here, you’re confused as to why he would want to spend his break in Utah. 

He lets you down gently and shrugs. “I had to see if you’d land the quad.” Joel’s smile matches yours as you shake your head. 

“You’re fucking insane,” you quip, but there’s no malice in your voice.

Before you can pester Joel into answering all your questions you’re whisked away to a press conference. Talking to the media is something you don’t particularly enjoy, and it’s even more difficult to stay present when you know you could be spending time with your best friend. Most of the questions are directed towards the girls who placed higher than you which you’re thankful for. It’s easier for you to zone out, and you root through your mind of places around the city to take Joel. 

“Y/N, how tough will it be for you to better your scores in tomorrow’s free skate?”

The question is one that you expected, luckily, and you’re able to recite the response you worked out with Brenda without really engaging with the reporter. “I mean I obviously didn’t aim to be in third place heading into tomorrow,” you joke, “But I’m fairly happy with where I ended up. The other girls had fantastic skates and deserve to be above me. My plan for tomorrow is to leave everything on the ice, skate cleanly, and be proud of myself regardless of what happens.”

Pens scribble furiously by those that don’t have recording devices to get your words down on paper. There’s some chatter, questions for the other girls, before a young reporter fresh out of journalism school is allowed to speak. He identifies himself as Theo Rateliff before jumping in. “Y/N,” he says, “How excited are you to get back to training on home ice when you get back to Jersey?”

“Um, I didn’t know the renovations were finished,” you stammer. “As far as I know, I’ll be at Flyers SkateZone until the end of the season.”

Theo shakes his head. “My partner was informed this morning that the rink will be good to go by the time you get back.”

You turn to the side to look at Brenda, who just shrugs. “Well, to be quite honest I’ll miss being in Voorhees. I had fun skating there and feel like the rink prepared me well for this competition.”

“Obviously not well enough,” Theo retorts, not missing a beat. “Your odds of winning dropped by seventy-seven percent.”

“Thank you for the reminder Theo,” you snap. “Are we done here?”

The press-coordinator shakes their head in confirmation, and you rip the microphone off your jacket before stomping off. People clear a path for you, not wanting to get caught in your storm. You run right to Joel who lets you direct him out of the arena and into the uber he called while you were wrapping up. 

It’s a silent ride, Joel knowing you aren’t in the mood for light conversation. He lets you take a ridiculously long shower and orders take out that arrives just as you step out of the bathroom. 

“Where are you staying?” you ask as you detangle your hair. 

“Nowhere yet,” Joel says, “I got in early this morning and went straight to the rink.”

You think carefully about your next words before you speak. Your competition routines can be excessive and annoying, and you don’t want to inconvenience him. “You could just stay here. The room is massive and there’s more than enough space for both of us in the bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, voice taking a soft lilt. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

Joel smiles wider than you’ve ever seen him do before. The two of you sit comfortably in bed, eating the burritos Joel got and going down a conspiracy theory youtube wormhole. He asks how you feel about him coming to watch your evening training session you have to leave for in twenty minutes. You tell him you’d be angry if he didn’t stand beside your coach and clap every time you landed a jump. 

It’s chilly but the sun is shining bright so you decide to bundle up and walk to the rink. Joel pokes fun at you beanie and you swat him in the chest, shutting him up for the time being after his giggles subside. The view is gorgeous, mountains framing the setting sun. You squeeze Joel’s bicep to get his attention and relish the feeling of his muscle in your grip. 

“Look! An owl!”

Sure enough, a barn owl is flying over top of you, in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City. “That’s my good luck charm. Means I’ll skate well tomorrow.”

Joel pokes your cheek lightly. “I thought I was your good luck charm,” he gasps. 

You roll your eyes. “I guess you can be my secondary one.” Joel doesn’t seem to mind the fact your arms are still wrapped around his, so you stay that way until for the rest of the journey. 

☼☼☼☼

The night goes according to plan. You skate well in practice and feel comfortable for tomorrow’s event. Joel executes his role perfectly, cheering when you do things well and squirting water at you to make you squeal in laughter when things get a little too serious. Once back at the hotel you collapse into bed almost immediately. You’re so exhausted you can’t even be bothered to climb under the covers, and wait until Joel pulls them back for himself to crawl in. There’s no awkwardness at sharing a bed with Joel, and you sigh contently as he pulls you into his side. Sleep comes easily then for the both of you. 

You wake before both your alarm and Joel. It takes you a second to get your bearing and realize you’re pinned against his body, though you don’t mind. There’s worse places to be stuck. You lay curled into Joel for as long as you can, but eventually you have to shake him awake. 

“Beezer,” you whisper, ruffling his hair, “You’ve gotta let me out.”

He groans something unintelligible but instead of heeding your words pulls you closer. “Joel come on,” you try again, “I’ve really gotta get up. Need to shower before I get to the rink.”

Joel listens this time, but only lets you go after squeezing you tight for a second. You go about your routine with him still passed out in bed and giggle at the way his hair curls around his ears when you pass by. As you’re leaving to get to your practice ice slot Joel wakes up, lumbering into the bathroom. He reappears a minute or two later to say goodbye. 

“Will I see you after practice?” he asks, voice still gruff with sleep. 

“Probably not,” you reply, leaning down to tie your shoes. “I won’t be coming back here until after everything is done.”

Joel nods and wraps you in a warm hug. “You’re going to do great,” he says as he pulls away. “I’ll be there, cheering so fucking loud.”

“I expect you to throw a teddy bear on the ice after I finish.”

The walk to the arena is lonely without Joel, but you push the thought out of your mind. You need to stay focused on putting on the skate of your life in a few hours and not on how lately you’ve been having more-than-friendly thoughts about your best friend. Brenda is there when you arrive, making conversation about what you did last night with Joel before explaining how you’re going to run your practice.

Your hour of semi-private ice passes in the blink of an eye. The other girls in your flight are just as tense as you, popping jumps and doing a lot of stroking to loosen up. A lot is riding on today’s event and you’d be lying if you weren’t feeling the pressure. When you get back to the dressing room and check your phone, you notice there’s a text from Joel. 

Don’t want to disrupt your pre-comp routine, but I thought I’d share a playlist. It’s songs that remind me of you. 

Included is a link to a spotify playlist entitled ‘my golden girl’. You open it with a smile, noticing that it starts with some of your favourite songs even though they aren’t the kind of thing Joel regularly listens to before turning into things you’ve never heard before. 

Thanks <3, you respond, going to listen to it during my off-ice. 

That’s exactly what you do. It filters through your headphones for hours as you stretch, do a quick interview for those watching on television, and get dressed. Though it’s a break from your typical routine, it’s welcome. Knowing Joel thought about you enough to make you a playlist and send it to you helps calm your nerves. 

“Hey kiddo,” Brenda says as she walks to where you’ve taken up root on the floor. Your left hamstring is tight, and you’re trying desperately to fix it before you have to go on the ice. “Go out there and absolutely kill it. This is your best program, and I haven’t seen anyone skate better than what you can do today.”

“Gee thanks for the confidence booster Bren,” you chuckle before hoisting yourself onto the bench to tie your skates. 

She doesn’t laugh. “I mean it Y/N. You can still win this thing.”

You’re left alone to finish getting ready and then join the other girls in the tunnel. No one talks, which you’re grateful for. When you were younger and coming up through the ranks the other competitors liked to gossip while they waited and it was your least favourite part of an entire competition. A camera man waits at the end of the walkway, filming your arrival to the ice pad, and you wave cheerily as you pass by. It can never hurt to endear yourself to those watching at home – maybe they’ll be nicer to you on the internet. 

Joel is standing at the edge of the boards during your warmup, watching and cheering intently. In a moment of insane confidence you blow him a kiss as you skate past, and giggle hysterically when he catches it and holds it close to his chest. You’re called off the ice then and spend the time really getting into the zone. 

It’s considered bad luck to watch the performances before your own, so you face the wall as you do jog lightly to keep your body temperature up and the adrenaline flowing. Much sooner than you’d like it’s your turn to take your guards and jacket off. Brenda holds your skating hands as she whispers last minute words of encouragement, and you stumble through the traditional handshake before presenting yourself to the crowd. 

Once the music starts your brain checks out and instinct takes over. You learned when you were younger that your best skates happened when you just allowed yourself to feel, and you desperately need the skate of a lifetime. Going into the first jumping pass you can feel yourself tense up so you think about Joel’s smile while you guys sat by the lake last night. It works to loosen you up, and you spend the rest of the program thinking of your favourite moments with Joel. As you strike your final pose the music fades out and the roars of applause cascade in. You know you had a flawless performance, beaming as you fist pump the air in the same manner you chirp Joel for doing while he celebrates goals. 

You bow to the crowd in all directions, waving and laughing as flowers and teddy bears fall onto the ice in front of you. An orange blob of fur catches your eye, and you skate to pick it up before one of the volunteers could put it in the bag that will join your garment bag in the dressing room. You know Joel is the one who threw the Gritty toy – no one else really knows of your affiliations with the team. As you sit in the kiss and cry awaiting your results, you examine the stuffed animal. Instead of the regular Gritty jersey Joel replaced it with his own, the number flashing vividly at you and pulling a smile from your nervous features. 

Brenda keeps her hand clasped tightly in yours as the PA system crackles to life. “And the scores for Y/N Y/L/N are,” the announcer begins, and your knee begins bouncing rapidly. “The free skate score is 155.79, for a total score of 230.62.”

You jump up in amazement. Despite your slow start to the competition you managed to get a season’s best. You’re also five points ahead of the second place skater, guaranteeing you a place on the podium and depending on the final results, a spot at worlds. A volunteer ushers you out of the kiss and cry and you skip all the way down the tunnel. To get out some of the adrenaline you jog the corridor a few times before returning to Brenda. 

“Come on,” she laughs, “Joel’s waiting at the edge of the public area. We can watch the final skate together.”

At the mention of Joel you’re jogging again, wanting to see him as fast as possible. “Beezer!” you shriek as you approach, launching into the elaborate handshake the two of you have perfected at this point. 

“Hey golden girl,” he chuckles, returning your actions with just as much enthusiasm. “You looked fucking great out there. I see you got my gift.”

The Gritty doll is still in your hands but there’s no shame. Instead, you tuck it under your arm and rest your head against Joel’s shoulder to watch the final skater. The girl after you had fallen a number of times, dropping her total significantly and landing her in fifth place. Victory is so close you can almost taste it.

 It’s the longest six minutes of your life. Watching her skate increases your anxiety – she’s good, has almost as great a skate as you, but she under-rotated a jump and rushed through her program so there was extra music at the end. The clock above your head rings throughout the silent corridor as everyone awaits the scores with baited breath. In under a minute you’ll know whether you’re returning to New Jersey with a gold or silver medal in your suitcase. 

You don’t hear anything as they announce her score – just see the numbers flash of the small T.V screen and calculate that it’s not enough for her to beat you. After years of blood, sweat, and an immeasurable amount of tears you’ve crossed another goal off your list. Those around you are jumping and screaming, Brenda letting a few tears escape. All you can think about is Joel, who’s celebrating like he just scored the game winning goal in the Stanley Cup finals, and how much you love him. 

Without thinking, you smash your lips against Joel’s. It’s adrenaline filled and mostly teeth until he wraps one hand around your waist and the places the other along your jaw. Then it becomes purposeful, both of you moving in tandem and never wanting it to stop. When Joel pulls away and rests his forehead against yours you can’t stop smiling. The kiss might have happened in the heat of the moment, but you know it’s the culmination of feelings building inside of you for months. 

“You’re a national champion,” Joel says, pulling you flush against his chest in the biggest hug you’ve ever received. 

“I’m your national champion,” you whisper. 

He pulls back and grins, kissing you again. “You’re my national champion. My golden girl.”

The rest of your stay in Salt Lake City is a blur. You’re swept up in the numerous press events, galas, and enjoying your blossoming relationship with Joel. When you finally got back to the hotel after what seemed like hours of people complimenting your comeback, the two of you sat down and talked about the kiss and what you wanted to happen next. It was scary, being so vulnerable, but it needed to happen – you’re both adults and communication is important. So, you’re returning home with a gold medal and boyfriend, two things you’re ecstatic about. 

☼☼☼☼

“J, it’s not straight,” you giggle. Joel’s trying, and failing miserably, to hang the shadow box with your nationals medal in it above your couch. It’s been almost a month since you returned home but you’ve been so busy that decorating the apartment you barely spend time in has been at the bottom of your to-do list. 

He grunts out a response. “Fuck. Do I have to go left or right?”

“Left.” The picture shifts in the opposite direction. “The other left Joel!”

A few minutes later the decoration is sitting perfectly in place. Your child of a boyfriend insists on getting rewarded for his achievement, so the two of you bundle up and get dinner. It’s nothing fancy – just sandwiches from the deli down the street from your apartment, but spending time with him is nice. Joel’s been on a string of short road trips and you’ve been training anxiously, waiting for the organization to announce who they’re sending to the world championship. 

“How’s practice been lately?” Joel asks, mouth full with a bite of his BLT. “I miss being able to watch you skate whenever I want.”

After returning from Utah you were shuttled immediately into the freshly renovated rink of your skating club. It’s a little farther into Jersey and certainly not as convenient for him to get to, especially now that the NHL season is picking up and the Flyers are clinging desperately to the final playoff spot. “It’s been interesting,” you shrug, “I’m skating well, and physically I feel great. There’s a mental block or something though because everything feels a little bit off.”

The smile that graces Joel’s face can only be described as shit-eating. “Duh, I’m not there.”

“Fuck off.” Though you try to make the words come out in a serious tone, there’s no malice in them. 

Conversation flips to some ridiculous story Travis told at practice that morning, and you giggle as Joel recounts it with failing arms. You tell a few stories of your own, that leave him in stitches, and as you walk home hand in hand he asks you again to come to a game. With your schedule a little more flexible as you wait for a decision about the upcoming competition stint it will be much easier to see Joel play. You say yes with a shy smile and don’t miss the way the boy beside you blushes under the streetlights. 

Joel stays over, and the next two nights after that. It’s nice, falling into a relationship with your best friend, because there’s no awkwardness. You know what kind of cereal to keep in your pantry and he knows you don’t eat meat on Mondays. Everything is easy. There are a fews in the road, as can be expected with any budding relationship, but for the most part your lives fit seamlessly together.  

After some meticulous planning, you found a home game on the Flyers schedule that will coincide with yours. It’s a Friday night near the end of February, and it’s actually the last day US Figure Skating can announce their assignments for worlds. You figure watching your boyfriend is the perfect way to distract yourself from the decision, whether or not you make the team. Joel’s ecstatic about your attendance, wanting you to be immersed in as many aspects of his life as possible. The entire day he’s bouncing around your apartment, beyond ready for puck drop. 

“It’s literally three in the afternoon,” you grumble as Joel corrals you into the hall to put your shoes on. “You never leave this early! Why do we have to do it today?” In an attempt to save gas and lower your carbon footprint you’re carpooling with Joel.

“Because being in this house is making you more anxious,” he points out. “I’ve caught you staring into the distance one too many times today. Besides, this way you can meet up with some of the other girls and relax before the game.” 

Joel’s right, as he so often is. Your agent hasn’t called to let you know if you made the team or not, nor has US Figure Skating made an announcement on social media. So you’ve spent the entire day pacing back and forth around your living room and fretting that perhaps the best performance of your season wasn’t good enough. He twirls his car keys around his index finger in an attempt to speed you along and you roll your eyes at his impatience. 

After ensuring your home is safely secured you hit the road. The drive into Philadelphia is easy, with little traffic, and you spend it laughing at Joel’s ridiculous freestyle raps. It doesn’t surprise you that the staff lot at the Wells Fargo Centre is sparsely populated – most of the guys don’t show up until around five, Joel included. However, a group of women are standing near the entrance. While this isn’t the first time you’ve met significant others of your boyfriend’s teammates, it’s the first time Joel won’t be around. 

“It’ll be alright,” he whispers as the car settles into park. You offer a small smile that mustn't have been convincing because Joel lifts the hand that’s intertwined with his to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the knuckles. The smile becomes genuine and you tease him the entire walk to the door. 

Joel greets the other girls before setting his bag down on the concrete and wrapping you in a hug. “Have fun,” you say softly against his lips, landing a short kiss. He winks and opens the door, disappearing inside and leaving you in a fit of giggles. 

There was no reason for you to be nervous – everyone is incredibly kind. You seem to be the youngest in the group, but the other girls pay no mind and treat you as one of their own. There’s a small amount of confusion when your phone chimes with a notification, a few glances of possible distaste, but as soon you explain you’re waiting on a very important call they understand. Dinner is wonderful, filled with sincere questions about your skating career and how you got together with Joel. By the time you get back to the arena for the game it feels as though you’ve been a part of the group for years. 

You spend the game in the family and friends box, sipping a glass of wine and following Joel around the ice. Practice is early in the morning and you want to be productive, so you’re relaxed in your alcohol consumption compared to some of the others. One of the older girls, though you can’t remember what player is her significant other, recently got engaged and is celebrating with as many drinks as those around her will allow. It’s fun to experience a hockey game in this way, but you’re a little on edge. You haven’t anything about worlds assignments all day and the organization doesn’t typically leave the announcement to this late in the evening. There’s seven minutes left in the game when your phone rings. You quickly excuse yourself from the group and step into the hall. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” the chipper voice of your agent Megan says, “How are you?”

A nervous laughter tumbles from your lips. “I think that depends on what you’re about to tell me.”

“I imagined you’d say something along those lines,” she responds. “You’ve always been quite witty.” Before you ask her to just get to the point of the phone call, Megan speaks. “I have some good news and some bad news for you. You’re going to the World Championships, but you aren’t leading the team like we hoped.”

It’s not as bad as she made it sound. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes, and you try your best to remain professional in the hallway of the arena. “Honestly,” you sigh, “I think that’s better. There’s going to be a lot less pressure for me to bring home three Olympic spots. Thanks for letting me know Meg.” She hangs up then, no doubt having to tell another girl she didn’t make the cut. 

When you slip back through the door, you find all eyes on you. “What was that about?” 

“I made the roster for worlds.”

Earth-shattering applause erupts from everyone in the room, and no one pays attention to what happens on the ice for the remainder of the game. The congratulations continue until you’re waiting outside the dressing room for Joel to exit. He had a good game, featuring two assists and a blocked shot, and smiles lazily when he sees you leaning against the brick wall. 

“This is something I could get used to,” he chuckles, pulling you into him by the belt loops of your jeans. The two of you kiss for a moment, letting it stay chaste in fear of getting chirped by teammates.

“Well,” you sigh dramatically, drawing out the suspense of what you’re about to say, “You’re going to have to wait a bit longer for it to become a regular occurrence. My training schedule just increased exponentially.”

Joel sits on your words for a moment before it registers. “No fucking way!” he shouts, picking you up by the waist as the two you are a pairs team. “You got the spot?” 

Having Joel be so excited about the accomplishment makes it seem that much more real. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head up and down to signal he’s correct. Joel presses his lips to yours once again, this time not caring about any insults his friends could throw at him. The kiss makes you feel loved, fully and completely, and you hope you’re conveying the same amount of emotion he is. 

“That’s my girl.”

☼☼☼☼

“Oh my fucking god,” you grumble, picking yourself off the ice for what feels like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. There’s two weeks until you leave for Milan and it looks like you’ve never skated before. Jumps are being under-rotated, spins aren’t being entered properly, and your footwork sequence is abysmal. Nothing about the way you’re performing would let a newcomer know you’re a world class athlete. 

Brenda gives you a sympathetic smile. “Just try again kiddo.”

You do try again – fifteen more times to be exact. Each attempt at a triple axel getting farther and farther from what it should be. Before you get even more frustrated you abandon the element altogether, hoping to avoid a complete meltdown. No one questions it when you shift disciplines completely and move about the ice completing a simple foxtrot pattern. Ice dance has always been a great de-stresser for you, and after a few passes you feel your heart rate return to normal. At some point during your break Joel had entered the rink and is now standing beside your coach, making pleasant conversation. You smile as you skate towards them, ecstatic that the two most important parts of your life blend seamlessly. 

“Farabee!” you shout when you get close enough for him to hear you. At the sound of your voice Joel smiles, turning to pick up your water bottle and toss it in your direction. 

“I’m wounded babe,” he feigns pain as you take a drink, “I really thought that we were on at least a first name basis.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and playfully squirt water at him. “I’ll call you whatever I want. What brings you this far into Jersey?”

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab lunch after you were done. We’ve got a late practice today,” he explains. “Whatever you want, eh? Does that mean I say whatever I want? Because I think you’re looking particularly good in those leggings.tum” You don’t miss the suggestive tone to his voice, but choose to ignore it.

Joel watches the rest of your practice from his spot at the boards and lays himself across the dressing room bench as you complete a quick cool down routine. You have a meeting with your massage therapist in the afternoon, so you follow Joel to the restaurant he chose. It’s a small vegan place that you sometimes stop at on your way home from the rink. They have the best burrito bowls you’ve ever tasted and since you’ve gotten together Joel has become rather fond of them as well. 

The two of you sit outside on the curb. New Jersey is uncharacteristically warm for March and you want to enjoy the sunshine as much as possible. The rest of the day will be spent in dark rooms receiving physical therapy and trying to ease your tired muscles. There isn’t much conversation, but you’re more than content just to be with Joel. Life moves incredibly fast and your schedules don’t always line up nicely. It’s difficult to spend time with him, especially when you’re weeks out from a major competition, but small moments like this keep you from missing your boyfriend too much. 

“Have I asked you to take me to the airport yet? I can’t remember,” you admit as you finish the last bite of your meal. 

Joel laughs at your lapse in memory, knowing he gets the same way when high stakes games roll around. “No, but you would like me to?”

“Do you mind?” you ask, “That way I don’t have to leave my car at the airport for a week and a half. But if you can't, don't worry about it, I’ll grab an uber.”

“Babe, the uber will be like fifty bucks. I’ll take you. What time do you have to be there?”

You give him a much too detailed itinerary of your departure plans and listen to him talk about the drills they’re going to run at practice. Time passes much quicker than you would have liked, and soon you’re kissing him goodbye and watching him wave from your rearview mirror. 

It’s almost a week later when you see Joel again, showing up at a Flyers practice for the first time since training moved back to your home rink. You’ve been instructed to have a rest day, the team wanting to push you too hard before taking off. The arena attendants know you well at this point, and chat with you as you sit on a bench away from the media. You know better than you alert them of your presence – some of them no doubt wanting a comment from you about worlds. Joel has no idea you’re even there until long after practice, when he sees you leaning casually against the driver’s side door of your car, conveniently parked next to his.

“Hey all-star,” you say as casually as possible, twirling your keys around your index finger. 

He leans down to kiss you sweetly, and though you probably shouldn’t in a parking lot, you push your body closer to his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Joel obliges you, tongue gently slipping into your mouth, staying there until you both hear the shouts of his teammates. 

“Fuck off,” he yells at Kevin, who’s hollering so loud people can probably hear him all the way back in Philadelphia. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a day off,” you smile, and I thought I’d come see if I could hitch a ride to your place.” You had originally planned to attend the game in person, but a rough day of training yesterday had you too sore to do much other than lie on the couch. 

“The chariot awaits m’lady,” he says in a terrible British accent, bowing for good measure as he opens the door. Your car will be fine in the parking lot overnight, so you slip in and enjoy the journey into the city. 

Joel’s pre-game routine changes only slightly with you in his apartment – instead of napping alone, you curl into his chest and snore softly, lulling him into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’s ever had. You tie his tie for him and riffle his hair before kissing him good luck. Being alone in Joel’s apartment isn’t as strange as you thought it would be, and you familiarize yourself with his kitchen while you make dinner. The pre-game show plays quietly in the background, and when they mention how well Joel is playing you can’t help but smile. 

It’s much more comfortable to watch the game in your boyfriend’s hoodie and pyjama pants on the couch than it would be to sit in the stiff arena seats. Time passes at a pretty leisurely pace, with nothing too exciting going on within the game, and sometime in the third period you fall asleep. The rest of the game and all the media appearances pass you by. Joel figures you must be sleeping when he doesn’t get a congratulatory text when Claude pulls off a buzzer beater to win. His suspensions are confirmed when he slips through his front door to see you drooling slightly on the throw pillow his mom bought him as a housewarming gift. 

You don’t remember climbing into bed, but you wake up with Joel’s socked feet pressed against your calves. He stirs behind you and mummers something unintelligible. 

“What was that sleepyhead?” you giggle, turning around to run a hand through his hair. It’s rather unruly at the moment and you find it adorable. 

“Good morning,” he repeats. 

“That’s what that was?”

“Leave me alone.”

The two of you lay in bed for a few more minutes before starting the day. You navigate around Joel flawlessly – like you’re there every morning. Breakfast is quick and you’re out the door before you have a chance to cherish the domesticity of it all. You have a pretty intense day of training and Joel has to be at the airport in two hours for a trip to Toronto. He drops you off in Voorhees, kissing you gently before making his way back into the city. You hate to see him go, wishing you could spend more time together before you head to worlds, but you know you’re both adults with real-world responsibilities. 

For the first time in the final push you have a practice that is up to standard. Things click into place and you feel good. Really good. Each time you skate a program it’s clean, and the elements don’t feel weak when completed individually. Maybe you’ll actually be able to pull this off. 

☼☼☼☼

Italy is beautiful, but you don’t get much time to enjoy it. A scheduling mishap has team USA leaving two days later than you were supposed to and now you’re all scrambling to find a groove. Every moment is being spent preparing for the competition – off ice training, multiple practices a day, press conferences. When you get a moment to spare you call Joel, but oftentimes he’s at practice or fulfilling other obligations. The time difference is brutal and souring your mood. You feel alone, and just wish Joel could be by your side like he was at nationals. 

As soon as you step on the ice something feels wrong. You run through a mental checklist and assure that nothing is – your skates feel they way they should and you didn’t forget any gear. It must be nerves. The competition officially starts tomorrow and you’re eager to cheer on the pairs teams America has brought. You do your best to skate it out, and by the time you’re allowed to have the ice to yourself you can almost convince yourself everything will be fine. 

The music starts and you snap into character. Your short program music is punchy and so are you – all sass and sharp angles as you navigate the opening step sequence. A lump forms in your throat as you set up the first first jumping pass, but you push it down. You’ve done a thousand triple lutz-triple toe-loop combinations and could execute it flawlessly in your sleep. 

Everything happens so fast. One second you’re rotating through the air and the next you’re sprawled across the ice. Nothing feels off until you try to pick yourself up. When you can’t move your left leg you look to see what the issue is and find your kneecap where it most certainly should not be. It’s rotated nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, now residing in the back instead of the front. 

“Help me!” you scream, mostly out of shock. There’s no pain which surprises you, but you know it definitely should hurt. Everyone around the ice surface is frozen in place, not knowing what happened or what to do, and you continue to sob helplessly. 

Someone sprints to get the onsite emergency responders and Brenda runs to you as fast as her dress shoes will allow. “Don’t look at it honey,” she soothes. “It’s just going to make things worse.”

“It should hurt,” you croak out through the tears, “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“You’ve got so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you can’t feel anything,” the EMT explains in flawless English. “Can we take your skates off?”

You nod, and the right skate comes off breezily. Brenda unlaces your left skate and the medical team works to pry the boot from your foot. A sharp pain shoots up your leg and you wail in agony. “Shh, it’s okay,” your coach coos, “The skate is going to stay on until we get to the hospital.”

The ride to the hospital feels like time is moving through sludge. The paramedics keep an eye on your blood pressure and do their best to keep you calm. Brenda is typing furiously on her phone, and you ask what she’s doing as the vehicle pulls into the ambulance bay. 

“The ISU rep told me to keep him updated,” she explains. “And I’m trying to vote on which alternate is going to take your place.”

You knew that was going to happen, you couldn’t possibly skate, but it makes you unbelievably sad. All your hard work is going to amount to nothing. No one cares about national champions who don’t place at worlds, and the injury is going to sideline you in next year’s olympic race. The emergency room has a bed ready for you, and the doctor arrives as you’re being transferred into it. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m Dr. Morelli. We’re going to put your patella back into place. It’s going to be incredibly painful, so we’re to sedate you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you say as strongly as you can, though it comes out feeble and hoarse. 

A nurse inserts an IV into your arm and smiles at you. They have you count backwards from ten, and by the time you get to eight you’re asleep. There’s a brief moment of panic when you wake up as you forgot where you are. “You’re awake,” Brenda speaks softly from the bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admit. “It hurts so fucking bad.” 

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know. They’re going to come get you for x-rays in a few minutes and then we’ll go back to the hotel.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “I’ve gotta call Joel. Bren, give me your phone.”

Laughter comes from the device’s speakers, and you realize she’s one step ahead of you. 

“There’s my girl,” Joel whispers, eyes landing on yours as the phone lands in your hands. “Are you okay?”

The question makes you laugh. “You’re quite the comedian Mr. Farabee. Of course I’m not okay. My leg is currently being held together by a brace and my dreams are ruined.” You soften when you realize how upset Joel looks. “I’ll be fine J, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. It was a freak accident. You can pick me up from the airport.”

He agrees in a heartbeat and tells you about his day to distract you from the pain. You’ll have to ask the nurses for some pain meds before you leave. A nurse comes to take you to the radiology department, and you hang up after reassuring him for the hundredth time that he doesn’t need to fly to Italy to bring you home himself. 

Brenda holds you as the adrenaline wears off and your legs twitches rapidly as a trauma response. She helps you navigate around the small room and makes sure you’re able to use the bathroom. Luckily none of her other skaters are competing, and she’s able to travel back to Philadelphia with you once the doctor clears you. It’s a rough flight – there’s a fair amount of turbulence and each bump makes your leg throb. You don’t get a wink of sleep and are grumpy by the time you touch down in Philly. Joel’s waiting at arrivals with a giant sign and a sweet smile. You wheel yourself over to him as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms. 

“Welcome home baby,” he whispers, leaning down to catch your lips in an airport appropriate kiss. The reason you’re home so early isn’t brought up which you're incredibly grateful for. Your untimely withdrawal is still a very sore spot. 

“I wasn’t gone long,” you laugh, trying to poke fun at the situation before reality gets you too down. 

“Long enough for me to miss you a tremendous amount.”

The three of you exit the airport, and Joel drops Brenda off at her house before taking you back to his place. Chuck and the rest of the management team were allowing him to miss a few games until you become more mobile and can’t exist on your own for a few hours. Joel’s bed is calling out to you, but he insists you’ll feel better after a shower and you know he’s right. Showering isn’t something you can do yourself, so Joel keeps your leg straight and elevated as you sit on the stool he bought while waiting for you to return. The grime of travelling is washed away and you feel lighter when you swing into bed, stubbornly refusing Joel’s help. 

You convince him to let you watch the broadcast of the event you were supposed to be skating in. It’s probably not the best thing for your mental health, but you want to see how everyone does. Joel sits besides you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, and listens to you explain the rationale behind every element’s score. When your replacement takes the ice you go silent. It’s too much to see her skating in your place so you bury your face into Joel’s neck. There’s no jealousy like you thought there would be, just an infinite amount of sadness that you’re not able to be there. 

“You’ll be able to get back there,” Joel reassures you when he feels a tear soak through his sweater. 

“That’s not guaranteed,” you sniffle. “I might not ever skate again, let alone compete at any level.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, leading you to quirk a brow. “I know you. You’re going to do it. It won’t be easy, but you’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. People bounce back after major injuries all the time. I’ll be by your side the entire time, helping you through.”

“I love you,” you blurt out. The gravity of your words sinks in and you gasp. You haven’t said those words to each other yet, but they feel right.

“I love you too,” Joel smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. “Now pay attention to the TV, that girl you beat at Skate Canada is up next.”

☼☼☼☼

Recovery hasn’t been easy. There have been so many days where all you want to do is throw in the towel and cry, but Joel keeps you going. He insists you to your physical therapy exercises with him so you aren’t alone, and he comes to as many doctor’s appointments as he possibly can. After the Flyers get eliminated from the playoffs he doesn’t return home for the summer, choosing to stay in the Philly area with you. Having him there is a massive help, and you power through the pain. 

The Flyers are hosting a family skate before training camp, and it will be your first time on skates in nearly six months. Your doctors have cleared it as long as you take it slow and basically let Joel pull you around the rink but you don’t care. It gives you hope that one day you’ll be back to full strength. 

“Ready to do this thing?” Joel asks, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. 

You nod enthusiastically and let him pull you from the bench to the tunnel and down to the boards. Joel steps on the ice first, keeping his hands up in case you need them for support. A few of the significant others notice what’s happening and they erupt in applause once both your feet are planted on the surface. Joel joins them, his eyes watering when he sees how happy you are to be skating again. 

“I do believe you promised me a few laps lover boy,” you wink. 

“Yes ma’am,” Joel giggles as he mock salutes. He places his hands in yours and guides you gently, careful not to go too fast or get too close to other groups. The two of you giggle and stop to kiss frequently but no one says anything. You’ve worked incredibly hard to get here and they’re perfectly content letting you have your moment. Standing at centre ice you feel complete, and you know it’s all thanks to Joel. 

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @samsteel​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ @boqvistsbabe​ @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice​ if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 299: No Chains Left

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “and then AFO broke out all of the inmates from six other prisons and took a nap. well anyways, here’s the hospital angst.” Kacchan woke up two days later and was all, “WAIT BUT HOW ARE DEKU AND TODOROKI AND ALL OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS EXCEPT IIDA DOING” and then we cut to Shouto’s room where the other U.A. kids were sitting around being Mutually Traumatized and giving each other moral support and such. Everyone was alll, “...”, and then the rest of the Todofam showed up, INCLUDING POSSIBLY REI?! which, omg. The chapter ended with Kacchan STOMPING THROUGH THE HALLS all “WHADDYA MEAN DEKU HASN’T WOKEN UP YET”, dragging along Satou and Mineta behind him, fueled by the power of ALL OF THE FUCKS HE NOW GIVES. He gives so many fucks now you guys. This boy cares so much he can probably deduct it on his taxes.

Today on BnHA: SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO GIVE A LOT OF FUCKS, the story cuts abruptly to Hawks, freshly recovering from his near-death experience, and pondering the threads that have weaved the tapestry of his life and led him to this moment. Basically he grew up in poverty with his Jerk Dad and Jerk Mom until his dad got arrested one day and his mom sent him off to go Find Money Or Something, and so he rescued a busload of people and found himself a new career. Back in the present day, Hawks and Jeanist ride around town in Jeanist’s Jamborghini having awkward encounters with civilians in a country on the brink of social collapse, and visiting Hawks’s mother’s home. Hawks is all “I know from an outsider’s perspective it must look like my life currently sucks, but now that the HPSC is gone, my public image is shot, and my parents are finally out of my life, I’m actually feeling SURPRISINGLY GOOD.” Anyway so he’s gonna go meet up with Endeavor now, and p.s. this chapter was fucking fantastic though, damn.

oh my god?? is this Hawks narration?? something about him growing up watching the heroes on TV and thinking of them as fictional characters

okay I scrolled down a little bit more to see the rest of that “Keigo” panel, and wow

this is basically a shed. poor boy definitely grew up rough. let me tell you guys, I came in here ready for some BakuDeku shenanigans; I was not prepared for Hawks Flashback Angst. I AM HERE FOR IT, but also wow I gotta brace myself now lol

HELLO MISTER HAWKS’S JERK DAD, SIR

BnHA sure does have an array of Jerk Dads, doesn’t it. makes me appreciate characters like Masaru and JirouDad all the more for bucking the trend

anyway. so Horikoshi, you really thought that one itty bitty chapter of hospital catharsis would be enough to calm us all before you went right back to showing us child abuse huh. my god man can we rest

BABY HAWKS

swear to god this kid can’t be more than five or six, and yet he has this completely blank look on his face even with his dad looming over him being all threatening and shit. like he’s shut down his emotions to protect himself. imagine what has to happen to a child for him to have learned this at such a young age. fuck

AND MEANWHILE THIS GUY

don’t mingle with humans?? not “other” humans, just humans?? what is this implying here?? and also holy shit Hawks definitely didn’t inherit his looks from his dad orz

then again he doesn’t really bear much of a resemblance to his strung-out mom here either

omg omg omg. and this child is basically trapped here in this environment with these two people. this explains a SHITLOAD about Hawks’s personality though you guys. his ability to completely separate his real thoughts from the face he presents to the outside world. his pragmatic approach to analyzing and solving problems. his layers of emotional walls. turns out almost none of that came from the HPSC training -- that was all learned hands-on in his own personal do-or-die survival nightmare childhood!! oh, boy

and small wonder then that he latched on to Endeavor so strongly if he really is the one who brought down his dad and inadvertently saved him from this. also, just putting this out there, I know people are always talking about him and Dabi being foils, and I think it’s very interesting how Touya grew up in a household where he saw firsthand the dark side of hero society, and so ended up becoming a villain in order to bring it down. whereas young Keigo had almost the exact opposite experience, growing up experiencing the dark side of villain society and becoming a hero in order to bring about a world where no one else has to experience that. just. both of them are so determined not to become their fathers. some interesting parallels there

so Hawks was sort of an accident after his parents had “thanks for helping me not get caught after I killed that guy” sex, and now this little boy is growing up in squalor and being beaten by his father for things like Sitting In The Wrong Out-Of-The-Way Corner Trying Not To Be A Bother To Anybody. holy fuck. this is so rough to read through you guys

wait so does Jerk Dad have a an eyeball manipulation quirk?? because he doesn’t have the wings like his son, but wth are these things??

this presumably also means that Keigo has never been to school or anything either. he basically doesn’t exist. he thinks heroes are fictional characters, he doesn’t realize that they’re real people. these are people who could help him if he could escape and find them, but he doesn’t know, and they don’t know about him

OH MY GOD HE’S JUST SITTING IN HIS CORNER HUGGLING HIS ENDEAVOR PLUSH OH MY GOD

how could this child possibly have an anti-fandom when he’s done NOTHING WRONG HIS ENTIRE LIFE. huh. just explain that to me. lol I mean I’m not looking to pick a fight with anyone, but also, MAYBE I AM, idk?? this kid has gotten me all riled up lmao

anyways, Protect Keigo 2021, and thank you Horikoshi for these three very terrible pages. I am pleased to inform you that you’ve effectively gotten your point across and you may now commence saving this kid already

YAY

oh no, Keigo’s dumbass jerk dad tried to steal a car and the popo nabbed his ass and now his mom can’t just sit around neglecting her VERY YOUNG SON all day long, oh horrors. sorry lady my tiny violin is on backorder. just imagine that I’m playing a very sarcastic song on it for you

anyway so what are you gonna do now, abandon him? I can hardly imagine he’d be worse off, if anything it might be a near-instant improvement

LMAO HE’S ALL “WAIT WHAT ENDEAVOR’S A REAL FUCKING DUDE?!”

AND THEY SAY THAT A HERO CAN SAVE US~~~~ I’M NOT GONNA STAND HERE AND WAAAAAIT~~~~~ I’LL HOLD ONTO THE WINGS OF THE EAGLES, WATCH AS WE ALL FLY AWAAAAAAY~~~~

lol what a randomly pivotal moment in his young life. TIME TO GO MAKE THESE MEMES INTO DREAMS YOUNG ONE

anyway so his mom freaked out and grabbed him and they wound up at a train station with her TELLING HIM TO GO GET HER SOME MONEY, oh my god. SURE MOM LEMME JUST WALTZ RIGHT ON DOWN TO THE “JOBS FOR FIVE-YEAR-OLDS” STORE AND TELL THEM I NEED SOME CASH. ffff manifesting someone to come help him in 3... 2...

...

SIGH, JUST GO RESCUE THE PEOPLE FROM THE BUS, KEIGO. is this the outfit he was wearing when that happened?? it must be, right?? I can’t imagine them surviving more than a couple days out here unless this starts getting REALLY dark in a way I know that even Horikoshi won’t explore, so yeah. cut to the HPSC now please. never thought we’d be glad to see them. I mean sure, it may be an “out of the frying pan...” case, but good god

THANK YOU!!

and I guess it was his mom’s eyeball quirk then. anyway, whatever, see you again never, hopefully. lol oh man. thaaaat, was upsetting. need to center myself here for a sec. NAMASTE

OH YAY THE PRESENT

so we cut from Baby Hawks Angst straight to Present Day Hawks Angst, huh. not that this exhausted and traumatized lil lad isn’t still a baby to me too, I’ll have you know

BEST JEANIST, ALWAYS WITH THE JOKES

“WHEW, THOUGHT YOU DIED ON ME FOR A SEC THERE KID.” lmao. Caleb will no doubt ruin this by making his word choice all stiffly formal as usual, so I’m just going to treasure this “WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, I’M FRESH OUT OF FUCKS” version of Jeanist while I can

look at him, driving his Jeanistmobile

again, is it any wonder Kacchan was bitching about Endeavor’s dinky little car when he was used to riding around town in style like this. anyone else staring at this panel trying to figure out how this car is somehow secretly made of jeans

NOOOOO

FUCK YOU DABI LMAO. PUTTING THESE VOICE ACTORS OUT OF A JOB ONE BY ONE

anyway so Jeanist is all “GOOD THING IT’S THE FUTURE AND WE’RE SO GOOD AT MEDICAL SCIENCE” to handwave how Hawks went from one step shy of being a very handsome corpse, to sitting around texting Jeanist in a car all of two days later

OH MY GOD, AND FINALLY AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS

wait a minute. I’m so confused lmfao. soooo, was Hawks all “anyway, here’s Jeanist’s dead body, you can examine it but please don’t look at him too closely and also I’m gonna need that back unharmed.” how tf did you pull that off lmao

(ETA: also isn’t this technically confirmation of the ol’ Noumu Jeanist theory lol. I’m gonna go ahead and say it is.)

NO BUT PLEASE, CONTINUE. I unironically love reading Horikoshi’s overly convoluted “SEE IT’S NOT A PLOT HOLE” explanations

lkldslfk so wait, you’re telling me Hawks convinced Dabi and the League to put Jeanist’s body in storage, and basically just hoped they wouldn’t use him for any experiments until he could put his plan into action and have the HPSC’s people break in and find and revive him?? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG. A FOOLPROOF PLAN IF I’VE EVER HEARD ONE

fff this man really asked Jeanist to risk it all to prop up his little cover story, and Jeanist was all “sure why not” omfg. anyways, thanks for recapping all of this out loud for no particular reason in your car conversation you two

LMAO NOW WHAT

TROUBLE YOU SAY? GOOD THING THE NEW NUMBER ONE HERO IS ON THE JOB THEN

okay no it’s just some random thugs strolling around terrorizing the downtown. fuck ‘em. so Jeanist is making short work of them now

uh oh

won’t come? not can’t, but won’t?? what???

WOW

well I guess that makes the local heroes A BUNCH OF SHITHEADS now doesn’t it?? jesus

and okay, serious question, if the cops are spread too thin and the heroes have literally walked out on the job, what exactly is stopping everyone from deciding to use their quirks to defend themselves, legal or not? nothing, as far as I can tell. society just got a hell of a lot more chaotic

anyway so this is an interesting panel here

man, Dabi really did pull it off, didn’t he. well anyway so here’s that better world all of the villains were wanting, you guys! isn’t it so great?? everyone’s terrified and angry and losing hope and society is inches away from collapsing into total anarchy! but hey, at least we exposed the number one hero as a hypocrite

anyway so what are these guys up to

fucking hell, he’s visiting his mom. I really wasn’t prepared to commit this much emotional energy towards reading this chapter today. BUT VERY WELL, WE PRESS ON

?? wait she’s not there?

is this supposed to explain how Dabi knew who Hawks really was? except that there’s the little matter of how he even know where to find his mother in the first place. feels like we’re still missing something there, but oh well

OH MY GOD

RHA I TAKE BACK EVERY WORD I EVER SPOKE AGAINST YOU. YOU ARE A SCANLATION GROUP FILLED WITH ANGELS LMAO. I WILL TAKE THIS PANEL IN MY HANDS, AND TREASURE IT AND KEEP IT SAFE

ANYWAY, BECAUSE MY TIRED BIRD SON’S LIFE SUCKED SO MUCH ALREADY, IT TURNS OUT HE’S ACTUALLY PLEASED WITH THIS NEW TURN OF EVENTS LOL HOW ABOUT THAT

GOOD FOR YOU BBY. YOU GO OUT THERE AND BE YOUR OWN PERSON

and in all seriousness, I love that identity he chooses -- chooses, because it actually is him making a choice now, possibly for the very first time in his life -- is “guy who helps people”, though. it really is nothing short of miraculous that he held on to that kind of optimism and desire to do good even with everything he’s been through. there were so many times he could have chosen to turn his back on the world in retaliation for the way it treated him. but he didn’t!! and here he is now, finally free, and what he wants to do with the rest of his life now is simply to help others. anyway please excuse me for a moment, I need to go find some sort of basket or a big vase to put all of my fresh new Hawks Feels in, pardonne-moi

YEAH BOIIIIII

“FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS, MISTER JEANIST, WHERE DID YOU FIND YOUSELF THAT SWEETASS CAR.” hey, all I’m saying is if this boy’s wings really aren’t growing back, he’s gonna need to find himself a new means of transportation y’know?

oh my god you guys it’s a flashback to his mom buying him the Endeavor plushie when he was like two because, and I quote, ALL MIGHT WAS TOO EXPENSIVE

oh my god oh my god. my boy out here with a new lease on life finding hope in the darkest of times

wasn’t your throat supposed to be all fucked up lmao. Horikoshi was suddenly all “oh shit the VAs are gonna be pissed at me if I keep this up huh”

“that’s why Bubaigawara was such a great guy” motherfucker IT IS A TERRIBLE DAY FOR RAIN. FORECAST SAID NOTHING ABOUT THIS

:’)

yes ma’am. yes indeed. confirmed, I really will straight up fight some motherfuckers for this child. well not really, but YOU KEEP YOUR DISCOURSE OFF MY LAWN AND OUT OF MY BLOG YOU HEAR. THIS IS A HAWKS-FRIENDLY SPACE. WE RESPECT TAKAMI KEIGO IN THESE STREETS

and he’s saying (or is he thinking?? what a weirdly shaped speech bubble this is) that even if what Dabi said about the Todoroki household is true, “I’m not sure it’s the same now.” which happens to be ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. man this whole chapter really is all about saying “fuck the past” and moving forward and I am living for it

SON!!!!

“the first step is at my beginning” fklkjlk. what an iconic fucking line??

AND HIS WINGS!!!! THEY ACTUALLY ARE GROWING BACK AHHHHHHH. “PUT A RAINCHECK ON THAT CAR, JEANIST-SAN.” THE HAWKSMOBILE CAN WAIT, RIGHT NOW HE HAS TO GO INSERT HIMSELF BACK INTO THE TODODRAMA WHETHER THEY LIKE IT OR NOT

you guys. I came here ready for some BAKUDEKU HOSPITAL ANGST, and I got DIDDLY SHIT of that, and none of my other kids were even in this chapter, but!!! ASK ME IF I CARE LMAO omg. because bird son is hanging with his new best friend, and he’s out here Finding Himself and picking up the pieces and putting them back together stronger than ever because RESILIENCE HAS A NAME, AND IT’S SPELLED H-A-W-K-S, and you guys. profound, my love for this child. holy shit. hey google, play Silence by Marshmello

[cherryatiny]

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐑)

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑦 𝑡𝑦𝑝𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝, 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑝𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑐

𝐺𝐼𝐹𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑠

❁ 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

„Please welcome the world-wide known cellist Ian Park, who will lead today's concert, please applause for him.“ loud sounds of hands clapping resonated in the spacious orchestra hall, when the man in question stood up with a cello in his hands.

Over the time you two were together, it became a tradition for you and your sugar daddy Hongjoong to go to a classical music concert at least once a month. Always get dressed up in new robes he bought for you and walk down the corridors of the historical theatre as the people around you were amazed by how beautiful and a powerful couple you two were.

As the first tones of the symphony came out, your ears felt like melting from the lovely music played by the greatest musicians of the present time. Hongjoong's hand was resting on the part of your thigh exposed by the high slit in your dress. Fingertips drawing figures on your skin and going higher under the velvety material of your dress and reaching the seamless thong you wore underneath. „Don't you dare go any higher.“

„Was that meant to the soprano lady, or me?“ chuckled Hongjoong lowly as his hand went higher, his fingers rubbing up and down the wet patch on your underwear. Instead of an answer, a quiet whimper left your mouth unwillingly. Thank god, you were in one of the balcony booths and covered by dark, too far from the prying eyes.

His hand skillfully pushed your panties to the side, exposing your slit to the fresh air, the sudden chilly feeling and Hongjoong's fervent touches, made goosebumps rise up on your upper thighs.

As soon as his thumb came in a contact with your reddened clit that was desperately in need of his touch, your body started squirming in the seat, his second hand keeping you down from moving too much by gripping your thighs.

Having decided that you seemed to be aroused more than enough by the delicate stimulation of your clitoris he gave you, Hongjoong slipped two of his fingers covered by rings, into your heat, coating them in your slick right away, which made it only easier for him to thrust them into you in an intense speed and hardness, never failing to brush directly against your sweet spot, making the knot tighten in your stomach as you were getting so close to staining the luxurious seats of the national theatre building.

„Fuck, you gonna let it out, princess? You look so classy, yet you're getting off on my fingers like some bitch in heat in the middle of an opera concert, how pathetic. Your cunt couldn't wait any longer? What were you thinking of, that made you wet so easily, even though we are in public, hm? Tell me, my dirty girl.“

❁ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

„Seong- I mean, Mr. Park, I've organized the papers for you, here.“ you announced as you stepped into his spacious office, the glass-wall behind him allowing you to look at the panorama of the city, but even better sight than that was your sugar daddy Seonghwa focused on the papers in front of him.

The white shirt he had on, which covered the body you knew well, was slightly unbuttoned as Seonghwa ran his hands into his hair out of frustration. The level of stress in his body much more higher than it should be, as he tried to finish the paperwork for launching a sub-corporation of the company he ran.

When you first started working as his secretary, you two were mean to each other, always nitpicking on each other's words and arguing, but it all started when he got you the keys to your new apartment in the building he owned, or when you two fucked after the ball that was part of the business conference in Milan, and over the months you two got closer and closer to each other until he eventually became your sugar daddy.

„Mhm, Y/N, come here baby.“ going over to where he was, you stood in front of him, his arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you down to sit on his lap. „I'm so stressed baby, but I can't leave work until I finish the paperwork, why don't you get on your pretty knees and support me while I'm working?“

„Yes, sir.“ Nodding your head with a sly smirk, you obeyed his request, knowing exactly what he meant, and slipped down from his lap, going under the high desk he worked at, you reached for his pants, your fingers swiftly unbuttoning and tugging them down. Reaching for his briefs, you could hear Seonghwa chuckle at how impatient you were.

Wrapping your hand around his girth, your other hand resting on his thigh, your wet lips neared his tip leaking of pre-cum. Giving the tip kitten licks and teasingly kissing along his shaft, you tried to rile him up as much as possible, but he didn't seem to be having much of it, his hand gripping on your ponytail rather harshly, tugging on it to make you look up.

„Princess, get to work and don't tease, or else I'll have to knock on your apartment door tonight with a collar and a leash. Actually... a whore like you would like that, right? Being a fuck toy for me to use. Look at you right now, on your knees in my office knowing that anyone could walk in right now. Now suck on it like it's a lollipop, my kitten.“

❁ 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

When Yunho said, „Baby baby, your favourite brand launched their new collection today, why don't we go and see some of it“ you did not expect to spend the next few hours shopping for clothes with him. At first, he wanted to see the brand, then he decided he needs some clothes for the press conference of the drama he was starred as the main character in, and then it ended up with you supposedly needing new dresses, „Yunho I don't need any dress.“

Shutting you with 'quiet baby', his hand tugged you to the shop he had in mind. It was a shop that specialized in gowns and formal clothing for different balls and this type of stuff. „Yuyu, I don't need any dress, I'm not going to any ball, so why would I need them.“

But Yunho wasn't having it, already too engaged with picking dresses for you. Going through the different rich materials and colours, his eyes landed on a beautiful black gown, with exposed shoulders and a high slit on the left leg. „Go try them on baby.“

Rolling your eyes at his request, too tired to do anything, but still agreeing to try them on to make your sugar daddy happy, you took the dress from his hand. Closing the door of the changing booth, you got too bothered with undressing, that you didn't notice Yunho slip in. That was until his soft fingertips started brushing against your collar bones, slipping the bra straps off your body. „Yunho what are you doing he-“

The words got caught in your throat as Yunho pressed his fingers against your wet slit, pressing onto your covered clit hardly, earning a moan from you. „What am I doing here? I think that's pretty obvious, I've noticed how desperately my girl looked, so I deducted I should help her... but she has to be quiet.“

Tugging your panties to the side, he got hold of his already hard shaft, pumping it a few times and lubricating it with his pre-cum. Positioning himself at your entrance, he looked at your reflection in the mirror, smirking at the desperate look on your face.

Slipping his length into your heat, he started off with a steady and fast pace, hitting the sweet spot hardly. One of his hands holding you by your waist and the other one shutting you as it was pushed against your mouth. „I don't have that many hands baby, so please rub your clit for me.“

Knowing well as to not anger him by not obeying his instructions, your hand slipped in between your legs, fingers coming to direct contact with the reddened bundle of nerves, desperate for any external stimulation, as the tip of Yunho's cock stimulated it from inside. The work of your fingers on your wet pussy was bringing you closer and closer to your sweet high, which you knew was for sure going to be exquisite.

Letting out incoherent moans as Yunho's pace got faster, his cock twitching signalising that you weren't the only one nearing your high, as your walls clenched around him tightly. „Fuck, fuck, fuck-“ Your mouth wide agape from the unexpected pleasure delivered to you, resulting in your fluids squirting not only on Yunho's well-endowed dick, but also the mirror you were pressed against. „Alright, you got tissues? Cuz I don't think the shop assistants will like to clean it..“

❁ 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

It was Friday, which meant your regular dinner with your sugar daddy Yeosang at the luxurious restaurant you always went to. Dressed up in a comfortable, but pretty and seductive dress, you hopped into the back seat of the black car. Yeosang signalled to the chauffeur that he can get going to the restaurant.

Arriving at the hotel where the restaurant was situated, you went up by an elevator to the highest floor, which secured the impressive panorama. Being greeted by the usual waitress with a bottle of red wine in her hands, you excused yourself to use the restroom, while the cooks prepare food for you two.

Placing your purse down on the limestone sink, you took a look at your reflection in the mirror. Taking out the red lipstick you had with you, you reapplied it, since the previous layer got smudged.

Smudged thanks to Yeosang's hungry lips, because as soon as you sat down on the leather seat of his car, his hand immediately wrapped around your neck to bring you closer, his mouth fervently devouring yours.

Sighing you leaned against the counter, trying to get over the bemusing feeling in your lower parts, because how could he arouse you just with some kisses? Closing your eyes, you breathed out heavily, trying to calm yourself down so you can get back to him, without beseeching him to rail you right there, not noticing that the said man was present in the restroom, standing right behind you... That was until his hands laid themselves on your hips, catching you out of guard as you looked up in the mirror to see his boasting grin.

„What's wrong princess? Did my little actions in the car arouse you that much that you can't get back to me? Did you plan on getting yourself off to get rid of the heat in your panties? Did you think your little fingers could help you? I thought you were smarter than that, you should thank the deity that you have me. I'll free you of the arousal and wetness, all you have to do is beg.“

Weighing your options, you knew he was right..„Sir, please, rub my needy cunt, sir I'm all yours, so please help me release the knot in my stomach.“ Chuckling at the way you begged, knowing well how to do it after Yeosang taught you for months, his hands rolled your dress up to your waist, revealing your cotton panties.

Tugging them down to your knees, Yeosang leaned closer to you, looking at your reflection in the mirror, while whispering into your ear, „Relax, mister will rub your little cunt so well, so lean into his touch and be a good girl for him.“

❁ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧

As you remember falling asleep in San's car, waking up in your sugar daddy's private jet was quite astounding. Lying on the soft cushions of the seat you were in, you let out a few whimpers as you stretched your sore body.

„Well, good morning baby. Did you get good sleep? I tried to move you to the jet as carefully as possible to not wake you up.“ Smiling at him, you murmured a few words of your thankfulness and how your sleep was.

Unclassping the seat belt, you stood up from your seat and approached San who was sitting on the couch, reading a magazine. He placed the bundle of papers on the coffee table in front of him, straightening his arms up, to wrap around your waist and tug you down to his lap.

Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, your wrapped your arms around it tiredly. His hand wrapped around your waist and the second one laid on your thigh, keeping you close to him. You let out a few whimpers, wriggling in his lap, to satisfy the growing heat and rub your core against his muscular thighs. „Is there something wrong baby?“

„Can you help me out?“ you said with a quiet almost unhearable voice, a little pout forming on your lips. „Help you out with what, princess?“ you averted your gaze to the hem of your skirt, fingers playing with it. „I've had a naughty dream about you...“

San chuckled at the way your ears turned red at how embarrassed you were because of the request you had. His hand forgot its place on your knee as it moved up, way under your skirt. Tugging your panties to the side, he could feel just how much the wet dream aroused you. His fingers moved up and down your wet slit, purposely coating them with slick and moving them up to your clit.

Rubbing your clit, pressing on it and occasionally changing the intensity of his actions, you couldn't stop the gasps from spilling out from your mouth, you were so engaged by this, that you did not notice San unbuttoning his shorts in the meanwhile, freeing his hardened dick from the tight garments.

You noticed it only when the movement on your swollen bundle of nerves stopped, right before you neared the sweet release, an unsatisfied cry that was cut in your throat leaving your lips. „Shh, baby. Daddy got hard hearing those blissful moans leave your mouth, so it's only right we help each other out. But you can't forget that we aren't alone, so all you gotta do I hope that the pilot can't hear us...“

❁ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢

High mountains covered in a white blanket of snow were illuminated by the fierce sun rays as they created a scene straight out of a painting. The sound of champagne glasses clicking was heard, as you and Mingi sat in the hot and bubbling water, located on a balcony of the luxurious mountain resort you were in. Only you, your sugar daddy and maybe a few deers out there, but still possibly visible to others, „Do you like it here, princess?“

Nodding at his questions enthusiastically, you sipped off the champagne as your body melted to the feeling of jacuzzi jets massaging your sore muscles, „Yes, it's amazing here, thank you Mingi, for taking me here, I don't even know how to repay you.“

„You don't have to repay me, anything princess, I'm just happy that you like my present, now come here.“ standing up from your 'seat' on the other side of the jacuzzi, goosebumps immediately rose up on your body as the winter breeze attacked your wet skin. Coming over to his seat, you sat back down rushedly as to not catch a cold, the hot water welcoming you, as you found your comfortable spot in Mingi's lap.

His large hands rested on your back, pulling you closer to his chest as they twiddled with the knot that kept the top part of your bikini together. „Mingi, I know we're alone, but you never know when someone's watching...“ you spoke nervously. „Don't think about it, relax into my touch, let the water massage your body.“ Untying the top of your swimwear, he let it fall to the water, the piece of cloth floating on the water surface.

His hands reached for your soft breasts, squeezing them softly as to your hurt you, twirling your hardening nipples between his fingers. Mingi leaned closer to your chest, his plump lips latching onto one of your breasts, sucking on it passionately. Your head was thrown back as you let out low moans, your hands going straight into his locks.

While his face was dipped into your chest, sucking on your soft mounds, your hands travelled down to where the hem of his swimsuit was. „It's only fair I repay you by taking care of you my prince, so now, you should be the one to relax to my touch.“

❁ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

„What are you reading?“ Averting your eyes from the flavescent pages of the book in your hands, you looked up at the man who stood in front of you. His skin sunbathed into a caramel tinted tone only added to how attractively his muscular body looked like, abs covered in beads of water as he just finished swimming in the sea, „50 shades of grey. A colleague of mine told me to read, it's kinda vanilla I have to say, nothing compared to what you do to me at nights.“

Smirking at your remark, he laid by your side on the soft cushions of the large beach couchette as soon as he finished drying his body. Keeping himself close to you, he threw a towel over your bodies, covering them completely, „Why are you covering us, Woo? Are you still cold from the water?“

„Let's just say I don't want other people to see that I got horny as fuck seeing my beautiful girl in her bikini and I just can't get my dick down, so try to act like nothing is happening as I stuff you full of my cock.“

Widening your eyes at how straightforward he was being to you in public, your cheeks got heated up as you could feel his fingers tugging your bikini bottoms down to your knees.

You looked around the beach, trying to act like nothing is happening just as he said, but when you locked eye contact with an older couple who were enjoying their time on the private beach and were looking at you awkwardly, you got even more embarrassed, so looking down into the mattress seemed like the best option. Wooyoung did the same with his swimsuit as he did with your, tugging it down to his knees, pulling out his leaking cock.

Without any more protraction, he sank his length into your wet hole. You had to bite on your lips to keep the moans from escaping past your lips. „Fuck, your cunt is taking me so well, you seem to like having a cock balls-deep in you, while we're in the public.“ His arms wrapped around your waist from behind as he pulled your back closer to his chest, his fingers playing with your nipples through the material of your swimsuit as he bottomed himself into you.

„Fuck, I don't think railing you once will be enough to satisfy our needs, should we go to the hotel room after this and recreate some of the book's chapters?“

❁ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨

Sitting bored in the studio, your fingers typing something into your phone, you side-eyed the clock on the wall frequently, as you waited for the end of your partner's song recording. Black headphones on his head as he let out angel-like sounds into the microphone. „Woow, Jongho, good job for today, I think we can finish this up for today.“

Jongho smiled at the producer who sat in his seat in front of the computer screen, coming back from the recording room to where you were. Standing up from your seat on the couch, you went to him, almost jumping at him out of happiness that this boring session was finally over.

„Jongho, can you please keep guard over the studio for about fifteen minutes? I have to go pick up something but I have no idea where I put my keys.“ Looking over to you, to ask whether it was okay, you nodded although you were not very happy about it, and with that Jongho agreed to watch the studio while the producer left.

„How did you like my recording today?“ mischievous smile on his face as he asked you that, knowing very well while he brought you here. „Did you bring me here today on purpose? Who would have thought that the sweet and awkwardly shy Choi Jongho, would record a song with such naughty lyrics? Hmm, tell me, who were you singing about? Who were you imagining fucking, while you were writing those lyrics?“ Taking small steps, you were slowly cornering him, up until he fell on the couch behind him.

Sitting down onto his thick thighs, the material of his jeans coming straight to contact with your core as the skirt you wore covered you two. Leaning closer to him, you attached your lips onto the skin on his neck, nibbling on it softly as to not leave any marks. „We have around ten minutes left, should I give you a preview of what is waiting for you tonight?“

Your cleavage was straight in front of his eyes as you straddled his lap, purposely pressing your breasts against his chest to accentuate it and catch his attention more. Subtly griding against the tent forming in his jeans, your hand caressing his temples innocently. You could feel him shifting underneath you, some incoherent babble stammering out of his lips at your actions. Your hands took hold of his wrists, placing them on your waist,

„Now, do you think you'll be able to cum and get rid of your boner in less than seven minutes, pretty boy?“

❁ tag list : @galaxteez @gyubaby @bobateastay @tinytinyblogs @ateezinmymind @chososchaos @voidednightmares

[dracowars]

Hello! i was wondering if u could do a draco imagine where the reader & draco are prefects and they started to have feelings for each other and they both love to tease each other!! im bad at explaing things but i hope that made sense :) love ur writing btw <3

perfect prefect | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x reader

word count: 1,8k

summary: where y/n and draco love to tease each other

a/n: i hope you like this and that it lives up to your expectations <3

warnings: none

universe: harry potter

Like a shadow you move as quietly as possible through the dark corridors of the big School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, always careful not to be seen by anyone or to not directly walk into someone. You work your way through Hogwarts and its millions of angled hallways, walking close to the brick walls until you finally reach the stairs leading down to the dungeons and you carefully stride them down.

Just before you get downstairs, you suddenly hear a loud meow in the distance and hurriedly run up the stairs again and hide behind the closest corner, pressing your body firmly against the cold wall, holding your breath.

Carefully looking around the corner with your head, you can see the mean caretaker Filch walking up the stairs with his cat Mrs. Norris in the dark. Filch suspiciously looks in your direction through the straight and long corridor, holding up his dim lantern. Immediately, you pull your head back with a jerk, but thankfully hear his loud footsteps vanish in the distance as he goes away from your current position.

Just when you are about to breathe a sigh of relief and step out of your cover, it meows right in front of your feet, causing you to take a step back in shock.

Mrs. Norris is sitting right in front of you and angrily glares at you through her yellowish eyes while she meows louder and louder to draw her owner's attention to herself. The footsteps that had become quieter a short time before are now getting louder and closer by each second that passes.

Just before Filch is about to turn the corner and you are already preparing yourself for the worst, out of nowhere a hand covers your mouth from behind and pulls you back. Everything blurs in front of your eyes for a moment and when you have a clear view again, you are no longer in the corridor, but in an empty classroom.

Startled, you turn around, ready to fight your attacker, when you realize that the person is only your beloved friend, Draco Malfoy.

"Bloody hell, Draco! You scared me to death!", you sigh out loud, your hand on top of your heart which is pounding hard against your chest.

"But I saved you from Filch and his filthy animal", he proudly exclaims. "Without my help you would probably be on your way to Dumbledore by now."

"I am a prefect. He would probably have thought that I was doing my nightly rounds around Hogwarts and not that I was on my way to meet a certain someone", you defend yourself since you do not want to admit that he actually saved you from expulsion.

"Is this certain someone coincidentally incredibly good looking and does that certain someone have eyes in which you can lose yourself and see the star- Ouch!", he cries out loudly as you loosely slap his upper arm, walking past him to the door of the classroom to get out of there.

"That description does not apply to him at all. I am afraid I have to destroy your dreams", you tease him, a playful smile playing around your lips while you straighten the skirt of your uniform.

"Well, if so, then good luck strutting through the corridors on your own without getting caught", Draco shrugs nonchalantly and gives you a look you cannot quite interpret as he is now the one to walk past you, reaching the door before you can. Turning around to look over your shoulder from behind, you feel his hot breath against your neck.

"But when you have reached your desired destination, you will unfortunately not meet this certain someone, because this certain someone currently has to continue patrolling the hallways", he whispers in your ear, but cannot stop himself from giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. "See you."

Quickly, you turn around and grab his wrist as he was just about to open the door, preventing him from leaving. With a devious grin he looks at you, silently waiting for you to say something.

"Stop it, you dumbass", you roll your eyes in playful annoyance and gently pull him closer to you, your faces now only inches apart. Draco's gaze switches between your beautiful, shimmering eyes to your full lips as he suddenly leans in and you close your eyes automatically.

You already feel Draco's breath against your lips when all of a sudden the door to the classroom is opened and Draco jumps away, quickly hiding you behind him, protecting you from the person that is now stepping into the room at this moment.

"Draco?"

"Blaise?"

"What are you doing in here? Shouldn't you be checking the corridors?", Blaise asks him reproachfully and does not seem to have noticed you until you peek over Draco's shoulder and his eyes widen as he spots you.

"Oh, I see. So that is what you are doing in here. Gross", he says, disgusted, and grimaces accordingly. "Then I will not bother you two any longer-"

"Stop, Blaise! It is not like that!", you interrupt him and come out from behind Draco's back, pretending that there wasn't always something between you and Draco that everyone already knew about before you did yourself.

Blaise nods understandingly, but something on his face tells you that he does not believe a single word you just told him. Nevertheless, he says goodbye and leaves the room again, leaving Draco and you in an uncomfortable silence.

"That was close", Draco breathes out heavily and gently takes your smaller hand in his own. "Let us get out of here as well. I will take you back to your dormitory."

Turning around and wanting to pull you with him, he goes to the door but you do not move, which is why he looks back at you irritated, a big question mark over his head as to why you are not following him.

"I do not want to go", you say, barely audible, and look straight into his gray eyes. "We do not see each other very much lately and now that we have finally made it, you quickly want to get rid of me again. If you do not want to spend time with me anymore, then why don't you just tell me, Draco?"

"What are you even talking about, Y/N? You know that it is not true", Draco assures you, putting his hand on your temple, pulling your head towards him to place a kiss on your forehead. "I like you. Like a lot. I like you more than you know. How about we walk around together and you tell me about your week?"

Your face overflowing with joy, you nod in agreement and a happy smile forms on both of your faces. Draco takes your hand back in his and leads the way out of the empty classroom and into the corridor, but not without checking first that Filch or his cat are not coming around the corner at any moment.

You walk next to each other in silence for a few minutes until Draco finally speaks up as you walk down the stairs to the first floor, your hands still intertwined.

"Actually, you know, I should have deducted house points from you for your naughty nightly excursion", he tells you, looking straight ahead, but you can clearly see the grin on his lips regardless. Offended, you hit his upper arm again, this time a little bit harder than before.

"Very funny, you wag", you giggle softly. "If it wasn't for you, I would not have gotten out of my cozy and warm bed in the first place."

"So you are saying that you are doing all of this just for me?"

"Of course, Draco."

"How do I deserve this?", he abruptly stops you as you have reached the bottom of the stairs and wraps his hands around your waist. Your arms sneak around his neck by themselves and you do your best to fake a real looking thoughtful face.

"Because you are such an incredibly great and responsible prefect", you explain with a smile, but he just shakes his head in disappointment, probably expecting you to say something else, and breaks the eye contact, focusing his gaze to the ground.

"Have you ever doubted that? Who else should become head boy in our seventh year if not me?", he covers up his disappointment, questioningly raising one of his eyebrows at you.

"You?", you snort and move away from him, covering your mouth with your hand to prevent yourself from laughing too loud. Draco give you a extremely offended look while you are busy with keeping your laughing fit as quiet as possible.

"What is so funny!?"

"Oh, it is just.. Who is the one here that is always so extraordinary friendly to the first years? Like the one time last year when-"

"Okay, okay!", he interrupts your ramblings by putting his hand over your mouth. However, he is still not able to stop your giggling. "Can you please shut up?"

"I am in favor of Blaise becoming the head boy anyway. He is really good at what he does", you continue to tease the poor platinum haired boy and he rolls his eyes, this time literally, annoyed and continues on his patrol without you.

"Wait! Hold up! Where are you going?", you call after him before you catch up with him again. Because his facial expression, or rather his pout, already gives it away, you do not even have to ask what is wrong.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy. Are you jealous?"

"You wish."

"So you are", you whisper, more to yourself than to him, and stop in your tracks as he keeps walking.

"Hey, do not walk away like this!", you command and put your hand on his shoulder so that he actually comes to a stop. "You did not really take my words seriously, did you?"

Draco sighs dejectedly and lowers his head, but you are quick to put your hand under his chin and guide it up to make him look at you.

"Come on, Draco. You know I did not mean it. I actually think you are a great prefect and that you will become an even better head boy", you smile at him while you fix his green tie with your other hand, your cheeks a little bit red from being so close to him. "I always stand behind you."

Shyly making eye contact with him again, you notice the small smile on his lips and in the next moment you suddenly feel his tender lips pressed against your. He puts so much emotion into the kiss and your heart is about to jump out of your chest as he abruptly stops.

"I love you", he whispers against your lips after breaking the kiss. "I always did."

"I love you too", you smile blissfully happy, although he himself had known for a long time already. "My perfect prefect."

[lordymaru]

I'm about to refute this entire essay with the simple explanation being:

The only interaction we've seen of these two is when she's a freaking 8 year old. Your self insert shows no boundaries.

And this is probably the last time I'll make a post about the stupidity behind the way the pair is viewed:

Note: I know there's people out there with a brain who ship these two in a more conventional way. In the end you do you, ship whatever you want, no one can prevent you from doing that, just don't be gross about it.

One of the parts being the Significance of their first encounter:

She’s a poor peasant girl who’s suffered immense trauma, suffering, and loneliness. Her initiative to help Sesshomaru came from her generosity

Exactly, she's alone for her family had been killed before her eyes, the villagers treat her like garbage. When she meets Sess he's wounded and simply in a bad state, both mentally and physically. Both of them are, the difference being he's a demon, a powerful one and for him to have ended in such a bad shape only stabbed at his pride- Rin on the other hand is a child, a human tiny child who is vulnerable and to him she poses no threat. Both of them are weak then.

At this point, it’s observable that despite knowing her story, her scars, and her difficulties, humans do not even empathize, let alone sympathize with Rin. It is the feudal era, after all. She’s a young, disabled orphan and the villagers only see her for what she lacks: a voice, a family, and a place of belonging.

Again with your feudal era shit. I can assure you the world is just as ugly today as it was before you and I existed. Next.

When he asks about her bruises, this is the first time anyone had ever afforded her a second glance.

This was a huge step forward for Sess, a huuuuuuge one for he showed interest in another living creature, not just any creature but a human. And for her it was probably like Christmas, for no one had showed her any mercy or interest. Ok you get a point. But oh, boy, how I'm about to spit on the next one:

The audience can see Sesshomaru calculate her body language, recognizing that she is mute. Instead of pressing her further or ignoring her outright, he attempts to comfort her (in his own way), making her feel that it is okay if she chooses not to answer him; that her desire to reply to him should only be a desire, not an obligation. I think, on one hand, that was the first moment of something that would resemble compassion that Sesshomaru had ever administered, trying to put himself in her shoes — if someone had asked him to do something that required, for example, his left arm, he probably would have appreciated them saying “you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to” so to provide him agency for something that he actually cannot do. And the same goes for Rin. He recognizes her disability, maybe even resonates with it and decides to empower her with a choice. Choice is important when it comes to the Sesshomaru/Rin dynamic and it’s a word that will come up often. 

Ok why are you comparing the loss of his arm to her not being able to talk? Not all disabilities are the same, you moron. Or am I dumb for thinking this way? If so, feel free to call me out on my lack of common sense kr whatever you wanna call it. Sess physically couldn't do shit with his left arm because well- it was gone! That's a physical disability. Rin had "lost" her voice after what she witnessed and so she wouldn't speak anymore. Have you heard of Psychogenic Dysphonia? If not, you can click here and give it a reading or do your own research. The more you know: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0892199703000158

So you say he "empowers her with a choice" that is "important when it comes to the Sesshomaru/Rin dynamic" let me get this straight, a choice because why? She's a child? A female? Because you said so yourself, it's the Feudal Era after all and therefore women had no choice in life, no voice, no agency, no nothing. So he was being magnanimous then? You know... This is where you start edging into the gr00ming territory. Can't you see? No? Alright, moving on.

BRUH WHAT THE FUCK?! Are you fucking good? See how you self insert? Bye. Next

The next time Sesshomaru sees Rin, it is suggested that he actively sought her, whether it be by curiosity or concern for well-being

He did... It is not suggested, he actually did asdfhkl. For both curiosity and he probably was worried. He also states he wants to test out his sword, what a perfect chance to do so for Rin is pretty much dead and that's the only way to make his sword work. So she was both being a guinea pig and an itch he wasn't quite sure how to scratch. Next.

Silence Rin.

Rin screams endlessly, annoying Sesshomaru. Firstly, this is the first time we hear him call her by her name. Secondly, Sesshomaru is visibly annoyed by her noises, however, he does not tell her to “shut up” as he normally would with Jaken or even InuYasha. He simply says “enough of that Rin, stop it.” (In Japanese he says, “Silence, Rin. You make too much noise.”) Even analyzing the Japanese dialogue, it is evidently softer than Sesshomaru’s usual ‘kisama’ (貴樣) manner of speech that we see depicted usually. This is the first time he’s had a companion who is not a demon, someone with compassion, and who has had his general best interests at heart with no expectations in return. His softer tone is a logical deduction to make.

Ok... "someone with compassion, and who has had his general best interests at heart with no expectations in return." Bruh... As if he would even consider meeting someone's expectations. Are you sure you're talking about Sess? Another thing is, he always speaks in a calm tone, he rarely yells or loses his composure- he had no reason to be rude to her either, you're excusing his regular behavior simply because she ain't Jaken. Anything else?

Rin doesn't change Sesshomaru overnight, it's a gradual and long process

Well duh!!! Just like you don't lose the pounds you gained from eating in one sit 12 donuts a week ago. Stating the obvious and for what? What's exactly your mf point?

The silence part is important, idk how to tell you there is a power imbalance in their relationship from the moment he tells her to be quiet. He didn't say please, he didn't ask her to, he told her to be quiet. Like a parent would, if I could count the times my mom told me to shush.... That's your first indicator he is not her friend, he is not her equal.

Letting you Be Yourself: The Panther Demon Arc

the first frame the audience sees in the anime sets the scene, painting the Sessshomaru entourage in a serene manner, indicating a level of comfort between group members (episode 75). This is vastly different from our last depiction of Sesshomaru and Rin’s relationship. In episode 44, he was unable to withstand her (albeit annoying) childish antics. But here, it’s observable that Sesshomaru can accept her and her package of unconventional fun. Not only does he tolerate and even more so, accept Rin, but he accepts her influence on his vassal, Jaken and allows them to be free around him.

Is called developing patience. I can assure you that when you're a parent or an older bro/sis and your kid/younger sibling is noisy af you either learn to tolerate that or get used to it for kids are kids abd you have to let them be kids. Next.

She's a child, she's not stupid.

The Abducted Rin: Calling her Name

The respect that Sesshomaru shows Rin is insurmountable. However, the InuYasha franchise is clever to portray the subtlety of Sesshomaru’s respect for her. KV on Twitter points out how highly he regards his companion and never relegates her to anything less than the value that she as a person embodies (@KVndie via Twitter). He consistently humanizes her. 

He only sees how important she is to him after her ass dies a second time. What do you mean? He respects her enough to not coddle her, she is independent and taught her to be self sufficient from the very start. That's respect. He consistently humanizes her because... She ... Is ... Human! OMG WHAT A SHOCKER!

As Naraku remarks on his hostage to Sesshomaru, "Naturally, the girl you're looking for is not here…,” he continues, “the girl is in custody outside of the castle..." Naraku never makes an attempt to give her personhood, leaving her unnamed, disposable, and relegating her to a mere "girl." But Sesshomaru doesn’t take any of this. He is a cold-hearted Daiyokai, yet he still makes an effort and upholds his principle to refer to her as Rin — not a replaceable “girl.”

Naraku is a mf genius. It didn't quite click until now he wanted to see if she was important or not to him and to what extent. For he planned his moves that way, making people turn against one another. While he wouldn't have made Rin turn against Sess he set everything up so he would end up wanting to kill Kohaku and in doing so, Inugang would have engaged against Sess.

Sesshomaru’s insistence on using Rin’s name isn’t only highlighted in this isolated incident though. It pays off. It is an ongoing theme in their dynamic throughout the series.

That's her name ... How you want him to call her? Baby?

I could go on and on but... This is a fucking essay. And then I stumble against more bullcrap:

The second point I want to highlight here is Sesshomaru’s reaction to Rin’s fall and her risky expedition. At this point, it’s unquestionable that Rin has a special place in his heart.

Of course she has a special spot in his heart. I won't deny that. What worries me is how you're trying to justify the way she's important to him since she was a child. As if his way of seeing her had changed.

I'm gonna disagree by agreeing with you in a few pointers. Kagome and Kikyo were rivals, they both romantically love the same guy. Kagome being the only one who could save Kikyo chooses to help her, knowing damn well Inuyasha would have suffered if Kikyo had died- further more, if it was in Kagome's hands to do something about it.

Rin on the other hand, I will applaud to her how she grew past her fear of Kagura after being kidnapped by her, she saw her body in the river and said fuck it and did her best to try to pull her from the water. I loved how stubborn and brave she was, even tho Sess had to pull everyone out of the water- she deserves a gold star. You go baby girl!!!

Rin later makes a cheeky comment, noting Kagura’s romantic interest in Sesshomaru. Jaken brushes this off as childish naivety. But for the spectator, this establishes two things: (1) That Rin does not see Kagura as a rival for Lord Sesshomaru’s attention, let alone affection; and (2) that Rin is still a child. Rin is certainly a child, with a youthful and fresh outlook on life that brings out the best in people. But even as a child, her relationship with Sesshomaru is incredibly healthy, clear, and surprisingly communicative.

Why would she? She's not a spoiled brat

Nah? I thought her double D indicated otherwise. OF COURSE SHE'S A MF CHILD.

Why do you keep mentioning is healthy? Do you need reassurance of it? Communicative in what way? Cuz if you wanna talk about communication let's talk about how he didn't even acknowledge her ass when she gave birth. He didn't even say her name, didn't even look at her. Tell me now how they are communicative and healthy?

I could go on, I really but all I'm getting from this load of bullshit I'm forcing myself to read is how you do in fact need to reassure yourself thr ship is god tier and is... How you said it was? Ah, healthy.

Anyways, thanks for reading and if you see any typo ... My apologies, I tried. Also if you have any input or I was out of line in some way, my apologies once more.

[hello-everyfandom]

“I’m not very good at flirting, am I?”

Warnings: Cringey attempts at flirting?

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Words: 2k

Summary: Remus is nervous for your first study date, or date? Is it a date? 

You were quite oblivious when it came to people who fancied you. Howard Lewis, from house Ravenclaw, practically had heart eyes for you and attempted to ask you out every Saturday morning whilst you drank your tea. The only response he was given was a hum and a sweet reply back, 

“I’m not planning on doing anything but reading my novel,”  

You frustrated a lot of boys in your year, and even in the year above. You must know, right? You must’ve known that at least half of your house and even more boys from the other houses have tried to flirt with you and received nothing back. But you didn’t. You loved blind. And, not to mention, quite peculiar as you obliviously ignored your suitors. You spent days feeling quite lonely and even longed for a handsome fellow to sweep you off your feet and into the forbidden forest. Remus Lupin thought you were peculiar as well, but not peculiar as in a bizarre fashion, instead, he thought of you strangely amazing. He found himself gifted the seat to the right of yours during Transfigurations and was kept his glances towards you to only a few per minute. He was smitten. And he was speechless when you approached him one Saturday morning, unaware of your rejection to a Mr. Lewis of Ravenclaw, and asked him to study with you.

“Hello Remus,” you said, he greeted you politely and with reddened ears, he knew he would get teased for later, “I was wondering if you were not too busy after lunch if you could help me study a bit of Transfigurations. I find it actually quite difficult and would rather McGonagall not deducted points from my house.”

Remus nodded quickly and stuttered out, “Yes, I. Where should I meet me? You? I mean, you.” he quickly wanted to slam his face into his porridge but you seemed to enjoy his response and giggled.

“There’s a tree near the lake; if you bring your textbook I can bring a blanket for us to sit on?” you offered, “I swear I have the comfiest blankets in my dorm.” Remus sent you an embarrassed smile and watched you longingly as you spun and left the Great Hall, a steaming mug of tea in your hand.

Sirius clapped his hand on Remus’ shoulder rather harshly, he’d say, and let out a bark, “How the hell did you do it?” Remus snapped out of his gaze to look at his three friends who stared at him in wonder.

“Do... what? Exactly?” Remus begged his face to go back to his original pale colour and stirred his breakfast with a spoon.

“I believe you have a date with a Ms. Y/L/N.” Sirius grinned boyishly and hooted, “Remus, how did you do it!” 

“Sirius, get your hand off me before I feed it to the giant squid and leave your body for dessert, and it’s not a date,” Remus grumbled and shifted awkwardly in his seat. 

“No, really, mate, how did you manage to get a date with Y/L/N? How did you get her to ask you on a date?” Peter pushed closer to Remus and jokingly added, “Oh Moony, you know love potions are illegal to give to other students, correct?” Remus shoved Peter aside and looked for James for help.

“It’s not a date! Prongs?” 

James put his hands up in defense, “Not me, Moons, I can’t help you as I think you’ve just scored yourself a date with Y/N. But, what I can help you with is Lewis as I think he’s going to absolutely fuck you up by the looks of it,” James stood up and did the ‘I see you’ motion towards Howard and yelled, “Oi, Leeeeewis, you jealous? Yeah, you better be. Fix your bloody eyes, mate, you’ve got a starin’ problem!” 

This time, Remus actually did slam his head into the breakfast table.

Lunch flew by and Remus couldn’t do anything but fiddle. He had run to and from the common room and dorms, a few times just to ensure he had all the right things. To say he was nervous was an understatement. Was this a date? Did you want to date him? Why him? Remus flopped down on the couch next to Sirius and buried his face in his hands.

“Alright, I give up. I need your help,” he mumbled,

“You? Ask ME for help? The god of dating and sex himself?” Sirius asked dramatically, placing a hand on his chest and inhaling sharply.

“Oh will you just- sod off will you? And just tell me, exactly how you flirt?”

“Moony we only have a few hours, I cannot possibly teach you the essence of the Black seduction in a few hours.”  

“The only thing you’ll be seeing is black unless you-” 

Sirius shot his head back and laughed, “Relax Moony, perhaps we should do some yoga to loosen you up. Are your buttocks in a twist? You can tell me.” Suddenly Remus regretted asking Sirius for help but took notes on his flirting technique anyways.

“Oh hello! Come join me, please!” Remus felt everything he had eaten and all of his organs drop, his tongue swelled up and he began to sweat under his sweater. Seeing you in the fall light made him internally (and externally) swoon but he attempted to take a deep breath. He began to try and mimic the way Sirius walked through the halls, putting swagger in his hips. “Remus, you’re being silly, perhaps you’ve been spending too much time with your silly boys, come sit! Don’t be shy.” You smiled again, making Remus forget the stupid stupid walk he learned from Sirius and just sat down. 

“You were right,” he said in surprise, “this blanket is extremely soft.”

“Would I lie to you, Mr. Lupin? Feel free to lie on it, I’ve taken a few naps on it ‘mself, though I probably should’ve focused on my potions essay instead.” Remus would rather nap on your soft thighs and feel your fingers slide through his hair, but he chuckled and replied,

“If I did, who would study with you?”

You pouted your lip slightly, making Remus clench the book he was taking out, “I suppose you’re right. I couldn’t fathom studying with anyone else.” Were you flirting with him? You seemed to lean closer to Remus, wanting to feel his warmth. But, Remus couldn’t place whether or not you were acting flirtatious due to the immense amount of nerves in his system. The two of you began to study, Remus would provide a word and you a definition. Much to his nervous delight, your conversation ran rather smoothly and no awkward lull of silence was provided. 

Might as well go for it, Remus thought and glanced at the piece of parchment he tucked away in his bag. He cleared his throat and rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants.

“So, Y/N...” he trailed off, almost getting lost again in your gaze, 

“Yes?”

“You’re so cute, I think if, I think if you were, I think if you were a boggart, no,” he fumbled quickly with his words making you furrow your eyebrow. 

Perhaps he is having a stroke? You thought.

“If, I think. If you were a... since you’re so cute, and if, a boggart you were, or I’d have... you’d be a.. cute... one?” If Remus could die, he would’ve. On the spot. If he could be struck by lightning and guided to the pearly gates that muggles seem to dream about, he would. In fact, he would even rather be sent to the fiery pits of hell than listen to what he was saying. His attempt at flirting had gone disastrously as he licked his lips in anticipation of your reply. He watched as you looked at him and began to blink rapidly. A wide smile spread across your lips as you let a small laugh slip out.

“Remus Lupin,” You began, sitting up, “Are you flirting with me?” You continued to giggle, almost shyly. 

“What? No! I mean, yes. Maybe? Because I said, the boggart, and cute and...” 

Remus Lupin, you are an idiot. He thought

“I’m not very good at flirting, am I?” he stared at your smiling face before realizing how mortifying the last minute of his life was. “Excuse me while I jump into the lake now.” You bit your lip to stifle the laughter and held his forearm.

“Remus,” you said softly, “I thought it was quite lovely actually.” 

He sighed and shook his head, “you don’t have to protect my feelings, Y/N, I’m more than happy to die over his embarrassing moment. I feel like a right and foolish prat right about now.”

“I’ll say it again, I thought it was very sweet. I’ve never been flirted before, so it was new for me as well.” Remus’ eyes nearly bulged out of his skull as he became redder and shook his head.

“No no, that’s not true. I know half a dozen Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who are mad for you! And Howard Lewis even asks you out every Saturday!” 

Now it was your turn to be confused, “What are you talking about, Remus?”

“The... the!!” Remus was exasperated, “boys fancy you.”

“No, they don’t?” You began making Remus want to rip his hair out.

“Yes, they do!”

“Remus, no boy has fancied me in the entirety of my life, you must be mad.”

“Well, I fancy you!” He blurted out making you instantly blush,

“Oh.” 

“Yes. And. I’m terribly and dreadfully awful at flirting but I wanted to try and show you that I do actually, um, like you.”

“Oh,” It became quiet, not silent, but quiet. “Well, I,”

“Y/N, you don’t have to say anything, we can forget about it and just study.” You tried to speak again but he cut you off, “Really, it’s okay. It was foolish and stupid and dumb and immature-”

“Don’t I get to say anything, Mr. Flirtatious?” You teased and brushed off your skirt, “I fancy you as well if you didn’t pick that up already, and truthfully, I did find your flirting, while disastrous, to be extremely and utterly adorable.” Remus blinked before an awkward, toothy smile rose. “I’m glad we got that settled then, yeah?” You nodded at Remus before he continued after you, 

“Now, may I at least ask you a few questions?”

You hummed in response.

“So is, is this a date?” 

“Do you want it to be?” you asked,

“Yes.”

“Then it’s a date.”

“Lovely,” Remus felt more and more joyous, “now, did you really not know that every boy in Hogwarts was pining over you?”

You quickly shook your head, “Why would I? I haven’t given a care about any of them until you came ‘round.”

“And the blanket?”

“I brought the blanket so we could read and lay on it,”

Remus was satisfied with his answers and longed to lean in to kiss you. He, and his absolutely dumb-witted nerves, decided to save it for a second date and held your hand instead. Fingers threaded and interlocked, you gave him a reassuring squeeze.

“That reminds me, do you have that extra book in your bag I seemed to have misplaced mine and I-” you reached into Remus’ bag and before he could react, you pulled out the piece of parchment with all the bloody pickup lines Sirius had fed him.

“Is this...?” You asked,

“Yes.” He quickly answered. Your eyes scanned the page in amusement.

“Why didn’t you go with ‘Are you a snitch? Because you’re the greatest catch here,’ I think that one is much better suited than ‘uh, cute, boggart, uh, you, and if I were,” you mocked him jokingly before leaning back comfortably on his chest. He could sing with happiness and leap off the face of the Earth.

“Hey, so maybe flirting isn’t my strong suit.”

“I say this as sweetly as I can, I think you better stick to Transfigurations instead.”       

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

You Oughta Know

Summary: Bucky helps you get over a breakup. Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader Warning(s): Smut 18+, Public Sex, Revenge Acts, Cheating (just mentioned, acts not by main characters) Word Count: 1,629 Beta Reader: @supersoldiersruined-me​ Notes: The petty level of reader and Bucky is fun to write about as fiction but like...don’t actually do this. It’s all inspired by the song You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette.

“I see you started without me, killer.”

There’s a quick clink as the metal from his hand collides with the bottle of bourbon he’s snatched out from under you. Bucky slides into the stool next to you.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but you look like shit. Not the hot, probably leads a rugged lifestyle as a secret assassin, looks like shit, but the real looks like shit.”

“So I look like shit?”

“Yes!” he says, matching your mock sarcasm after taking a pull directly off the bottle.

“One, fuck you. Two, I’m also living that rugged secret assassin lifestyle just like you. Three,  I have a reason to look like shit.”

“You didn’t have a mission. You and Nat don’t go back out East for another month.” He flags the bartender down. “Whatever your largest plate of tater tots is, can you double that and smother it in cheese and bacon? Think tater tot poutine and you’re on the right track. I’m willing to pay, my good man.”

On any other day you’d tease him. The bartenders here had gotten pretty used to Bucky’s odd requests and the both of you blowing off mission steam at the karaoke stage. Instead of playfully ribbing your best friend, you lay on the bar and a single long sob tears through you.

“What the fuck!?” While the words were anything but, his tone is tender and concerned. “Sweetheart, what the hell is going on. I’ve seen you cry less when you’ve taken a bullet to the leg.”

“Tom broke up with me.”

You pry your head up from the bar sticky from years of ethanol sugar spills and lord knows what else to study his face. All things considered, he keeps control. It didn’t take any of your deductive skills to know that Bucky (and the entire team) had despised the man. That should have been your first clue.

“There was another woman.”

The next couple pulls from the bottle burn a bit less and have you feeling the type of mellow you’d sought when you’d texted Bucky for a night out. Your good feeling is interrupted by him plopping what looks to be at least six different guns on the bar, eight knives, and perhaps two frag grenades.

“Where’s his apartment, doll. I’ll be ready in two.”

“Dude, what the fuck!” The plate full of cheesy potatoes nearly slides off the bar as the bartender stares wide eyed at Bucky’s splayed arsenal. “We’ve talked about this, man.”

“Special circumstances, my friend. Slide me the ketchup, please.” You study your friend with a raised brow while he continues to appraise his ammo levels and take stock. “I’ll be ready in five. I didn’t account for the poutine.”

***

You’d managed, with great difficulty, to talk Bucky down from murder as he shoveled the poutine in his face.

“He can’t just get away with treating you like this?!”

You shrug a shoulder before waiving for another drink. You knew Bucky was right. Tom shouldn’t get to treat you like this. You’d been nothing but a supportive partner to him. He’s the one who has a laundry list of issues.

Your fingers play with the delicate blade of one of Bucky’s knives still strewn about the bartop; flipping it expertly through your favorite routine.

You’re unsure who can claim credit for dissuading Bucky from murdering Tom. It was likely a healthy mix of a carb coma, the two bottles of whiskey he’d knocked back himself (no doubt spiked with something Asguardian, and the unyielding pull towards the karaoke stage. Regardless, the night of laughter and drinks with your best friend seemed to be exactly what you needed to take your mind off things. You nearly threw a tantrum when you heard the bartender yell last call.

“Let’s go home and keep this party going, darling?”

“You read my mind, Buck.”

***

In traditional drunk fashion, the two of you get sidetracked stumbling and giggling on your way back to the compound. You’re certainly not alone on the ever busy city streets, but then again Bucky had a way of making you feel better than you thought possible.

“Hold on!” you slur mildly. “I’m gonna call that motherfucker and give him a piece of my mind.”

Normally Bucky would have been the voice of reason but he too was firmly intoxicated and more than willing to cuss your ex out. Without hesitation he smooshes himself behind you into the phonebooth you had already jumped into.

“Hey Tom, ya fuckface. I want you to know that I am happy for you, I wish nothing but the best for you both. Looks like you finally have someone who deserves you...another piece of shit human. I saw her picture, Tom. Do you not realize she’s just an older version of me. Does she speak eloquently? What the fuck did she do that I-”

The line clicks open and you freeze.

“Hello?” Tom asks into the phone. Bucky can see the pure terror in your eyes, slicing through the drunken bold stupor. “How are you doing?”

Your throat feels as though someone made you swallow sandpaper. You were ready to rant to an answering machine, but somehow hearing his voice made you feel stone cold sober. Before you can formulate a complete thought, the phone is yanked from your hands.

“You don’t get to ask how she’s doing. 'Cause the love that she gave, that you two made wasn't enough for you. And every time you speak her name I hope you’re filled with a feeling of immense regret because you’re never getting her back.”

“Oh please, like I want that heartless bitch back.”

“I'm here, to remind you of the mess you left when you went away. It's not fair to deny her of the cross she bears. YOU gave it to her. You oughta know.”

***

You’re hungover. The movie theater in the compound is a welcome refuge of darkness and quiet. So much so that by the second scene you’re softly snoring away in the seat next to Bucky.

Perfect.

He shimmys (not without difficulty) onto the floor in front of you on his knees and begins to pull the soft sweatpants down from the curve of your hips. So engrossed in his work he doesn’t notice your eyes flutter open until the cold steel of your glock is against his temple.

“What the fuck are you doing, Barnes?!”

“We talked about this, doll! Last night.” His limbs are perfectly still, hands resting on the soft warm skin in the small of your back.

***

You struggle to think back to the fuzzy details of last night after the horrific events in the phone booth. Bucky had held you close as you sobbed once more on the walk back home. You’d collapsed into bed without regard to your usual routine. You vaguely remembered Bucky saying “Don’t ya know babe, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new.”

“Honestly I just need someone to eat me out like it’s their last meal on earth.”

The entire exchange had made you snort laugh just before dozing off.

***

“I remember. You said someone should do this for me.”

“I’m a someone.” Only the sounds of the movie play in the background otherwise he could swear he would be able to hear you think. He risks a glance at your face and there is the expression he’d been waiting for. Pleading. Curiosity. Permission. “I want to do this for you. You deserve it, sweetheart.”

With the gun no longer aimed, but rather scraping against his scalp while your hands fumble, he dives into the uncharted water with his best friend. He knows your stubborn resignation refuses to let you just drop the weapon all together. You need to think that you’re not one hundred percent as curious as he is. Inching your pants and panties the rest of the way down, he kisses each new inch of exposed skin.

You clench your nondominant hand in his hair, dominant hand still holding the glock. The occasional tap of the cool metal against Bucky’s skin should annoy him, piss him off, make him stop or tell you to set it down but he doesn't. It makes him laugh somewhere deep down that his best friend and secret agent is getting devoured in a movie theatre and can’t form a complete enough thought to set down her weapon. The other part of him is straining against his jeans knowing that at any moment you can kick his ass and press that back up against his temple. Your strength has always terrified him and turned him on a little and he would never want it any different.

You feel as though someone has turned you inside out and every nerve ending is exposed and vulnerable. Your brain is no longer focused on the terrifying fact that your best friend is seeing you on display. Instead all you can feel are the sparks of pleasure from each lick, suck, and swirl. When he enters two digits deep and presses steady rhythmic pressure you explode. It’s a good thing the theatre was empty besides the two of you. There was no way you would have been able to stifle the deep primal sounds escaping from your lips.

You throw your arms off to the side as you recover. “Holy fuck, Barnes.”

“Told you.”

“Yeah but if anyone finds out, I’ll actually have to use this on you,” you gesture to your gun still hanging limply in your hand.

Taking advantage of your still jelly-boned state, Bucky easily disarms you. With a devilish grin and chuckle he drags the gun down your still exposed core making you shudder. “You sure about that, doll?”

[anxiousstark]

S3 14 | Illuminated Silver-Riddled

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE | KO-FI

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 6603

Warnings: Mentions of  injuries, blood, dementia, death, swearing (always), etc.

A/N: Three chapter together as the first two are fillers (however, necessary). KISS SCENE AT THE PARTY DIDN’T HAPPEN.

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

I remained between Stiles and my brother while Kira and Lydia were sitting close to us. Rafe McCall was in front of us, not looking quite happy with us. "So when did you get there?"

Stiles sighed. "At the same time."

"At the same time as who?"

It was my brother's turn to speak. "At the same time as me."

"By coincidence?"

"What do you mean coincidence?" I intervened, simply because I wanted him to get mad. It was fun.

"That's what I'm asking you. The three of you arrived at the same time. Was that a coincidence?" I discerned how he was growing madder.

"Are you asking me?" Scott asked, resting his back against the couch.

"I think he's asking me." Stiles glanced at his best friend.

"He was looking at me when he asked." I interrupted again, receiving a glare for the older man.  

"Okay, let me answer the questions." He noticed that he had said it wrong. "Let me ask the questions." Stiles pointed at him, offering a wink, which made me chuckle. Noah Stilinski was behind Rafe, trying to hold his laugh. "Just, so I have this absolutely clear. Barrow was hiding in the chemistry closet at the school. Someone left him a coded message on the blackboard telling him to kill Kira. Then, Barrow took Kira to a power substation and tied her up with the intent of electrocuting her, which blacked out the entire town."

"Sounds about right." My boyfriend's raspy voice was the first one to sound.

"How did you know he'd take her to a power station?"

"Well, because he was an electrical engineer. So where else would he take her?" I nodded my head along.

Rafe made a gesture with his mouth. "That's one hell of a deduction there, Stiles."

"Yeah, what can I say? I take after my pops. He's in law enforcement." He peeped at his dad, pointing at him and winking. I snickered aloud, and Noah wanted to do the same but tried to hide it while coughing.

"Stiles, just, uh...Just answer the man."

He listened to his father. "We made a good guess."

Rafe McCall decided that receiving a concrete answer from Stiles would be complicated. Therefore, his gaze shifted towards Kira and Scott. "What were the two of you doing?"

"Eating pizza," Scott said while Kira said sushi. Then, they exchanged words until they agreed that they had eaten both.

"You believe this?" McCall sighed while glancing at Mr. Stilinski.

"To be honest, I haven't believed a word Stiles has said since he learned how to speak." The younger Stilinski nodded his head, agreeing. "But I think these kids found themselves in the right place at the right time, and that girl sitting there is very lucky for it."

Agent McCall turned around. "Kira, is that how you remember it?"

We all shifted in our seats, staring at the girl and expecting her to say yes. Thankfully, she did, and after the interrogation, Rafe halted Scott and me.

I bid goodbye to my boyfriend, kissing him softly on the lips before walking to my brother. "I don't know why you guys are lying. Or why Stilinski is content to listen to this crap. But try and remember something. If half this story about Barrow is true, then not only did someone help set him loose, but he was a pawn in their little game. A mass murderer is bad enough. A mass murderer being controlled, by someone? Far worse."

"We know."

"All right, go home. It's a school night." Acting as a father now, uh.

"Class starts in five minutes." I groaned as I leant against one of the lockers. "Just because there's no power don't expect there to be no school."

"That was a triple-negative. Very impressive, Coach." I sarcastically winked at him.

Coach wandered closer to where I was standing next to Stiles. "You are starting to sound like Stilinski right here!" He used his megaphone, making me whine as his voice was louder than usual.

Stiles pointed at me with a foolish smile decorating his features. "She's my girlfriend." Proudly opening his locker, a key fell to the ground. "Hello. Where did you come from?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Another mystery to discover," I added.

A couple of seconds later, my brother appeared next to us. His eyes were looking into the distance, meeting Kira's ones. He attempted to walk to her, but Stiles and I stopped him. "No. No. Stop. Stop."

"What?" He grumbled. "I need to talk to her."

"No, you need to remember someone left a coded message telling Barrow to kill her." I nodded my head, agreeing with my boyfriend.

"Which is why I need to talk to her."

"Scott, no way." I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "I love you, and until we figure out if she's just another psychotic monster that's going to start murdering everybody, I vote against any and all interaction," I whined. "I do love Kira for you. But not after what happened. I need to know you are safe."

"What if she's like me?"

"That girl walked through 1.21 jigawatts of electricity. She's not like you."

Of course, Scott McCall was someone who needed to experience everything for himself. You could tell him not to enter a cave as a bear awaits inside, and he would ignore you and go in to witness for himself. Hence, Stiles and I knew that he wasn't going to listen to us.

After a horrible day of classes, Stiles and I had decided to spend the rest of the day at his house. We wanted to have a date, even if it was inside the confines of his bedroom.

However, Scott had interrupted our time. He argued that Kira needed to get her phone back as she had some pictures she didn't want anyone to see.

We were meeting them in the parking lot of the police station.

I sighed as my boyfriend parked the jeep, seeing Kira and Scott getting off his bike. ��"Okay, this one will get you into all of the perimeter doors, this one into the evidence room, and this one it is for my father's office." He started handing the key cards while I glared at my brother.

"You didn't steal these, did you?" His gaze shifted from his best friend as he saw my expression. "Why are you-."

"Date night, Scott." He offered me an apologizing look. I loved my brother. I truly do. But our date nights were always interrupted by the supernatural. We never had time for ourselves.

"No. I cloned them using the RFID emulator." I giggled.

"Is that worse than stealing?"

"It's smarter," I added, grasping Stiles's hand.

"Okay. So, now almost everybody's out dealing with the blackout. But there's always somebody at the front desk. There's Dispatch and usually a night shifter or two. You guys are gonna use the service door entrance by the dumpster. All right? Nobody uses it. Now, I'll text you if anyone comes out. But, Scott, if you get caught, I can't help you. My dad's under investigation for an impeachment because of your dad, so, if anything happens I will run and leave you both for dead." I tried to contain my chuckle as Kira breathed deeply. She seemed to think that it was just a joke.

"Got it. Thanks. Seriously, dude." He stared at me. "I'm sorry, baby sis." He pouted. I nodded my head, offering him a smile.

"I'd ask my dad, but you know..."

"No, I know. I get it."

"All right, just, uh, hurry up." As we saw both of them leaving, we sighed. "Should we make-out while they-." I slapped his arm playfully. "What? They are the ones in danger, not us."

A light blinded us. I attempted to push Stiles back as his lips were moving against mine, his tongue lapping my lower lip. "Swiles-." I shoved his chest, and he quickly departed from me, asking with his eyes if everything was okay. "Look."

We had been blinded, by Rafe McCall's car. "Fuck." We quickly opened the doors of the jeep. "Let's go, let's go!" Running as hard as we could, we were able to stop my sperm-donor from entering his office. "Hey, hey. Wow! Thank God you are here. Oh, boy! Thank the lord."

The man glanced at the two of us. "What do you want, Stiles?"

I gulped, squeezing Stiles's hand. "I was just...I was thinking on the case. I was thinking I should clue you in on my thinking. Here's my thinking." He swallowed. Both of us were hoping for Scott to notice that our father was here. "I was thinking this...I was thinking that Barrow, right? I was thinking that Barrow received the information about who to kill at the school, right, you know that? So I was thinking maybe the person who gave him that information, check this out, might actually be someone at the school. And that's, uh, my thinking." His free hand gently tapped Rafe's chest.

"You're right." He nodded his head.

"He is?" I asked, surprised.

"Yep. We, uh...We started looking for links between Barrow, faculty and students last night."

"So you already, then, know that stuff?" Stiles smiled nervously. "You already thought of that."

"Your dad did."

"Oh."

"His one useful suggestion." He spat as he used his car key to unlock the door of his office.

"You know," My boyfriend moved to stand in front of him, dragging me with him as our hands were intertwined. "This attitude that you have toward my dad? You can dress it up to all the professional disapproval that you want. But I know the real reason why you don't like him.

Rafe smirked. It was my time to calm my breathing, not wanting my eyes to flash. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. Because he knows something that you don't want him to know. And guess what." I was intrigued by Stiles's words. "I know it, too."

His face visibly paled. "Go home, Stiles. T-There's a curfew." He peered at me. "You and I need to a talk." His finger was too close to my face.

Before I could bite his finger off, my boyfriend had taken me away from there. Promptly, we were in a club, and everything was due to the key Stiles had found in his locker. But why here?

The four of us had gotten separated, and I ended up finding Lydia. "Hey," I screamed a little, hoping she would hear me. "What are you doing here?"

She made a gesture with her head, and I saw Aiden not too far from us, dancing with two other girls. "You?"

"Came with Stiles, Scott and Kira." I rested my hand on top of the bar. "But I lost them." I offered her a smile. "And to be honest, I don't feel good. I feel like I can't breathe." She furrowed her eyebrows. "You are going to think I'm crazy but," I glanced around. "I think someone is looking at me all the time. It's not a good sensation. It's bad, really bad." I saw a shadow, which disappeared as quickly as I noticed it. "Uhm, I need to get out of here." My hands were clutching the collar of my shirt, attempting to separate it from my throat as I felt my breath getting cut.

I was sweating, making my way through other sweaty bodies. The difference between us was that my sweating was out of fear.

I ignored Lydia's calls, exiting the party after finding a balcony. I slammed the doors behind me, taking a deep breath. My shaky legs brought me closer to the rail of the balcony, clutching it.

Hearing a strange noise, I twisted around. There was a black mist on the floor, and I gulped as I saw a hand coming out of it. Until the same shadow that I had seen back at the party, appeared again. It was completely black, except for its face. It seemed like it was wearing a mask.

I shifted, thinking of running to the other side. But I was only met by that adumbration again. Scream. They will hear you. But as soon as I did, the hand of the dark figure ended up in front of my mouth, shutting me up completely, muting me.

Its other hand rested on my cheek, and his yellow eyes seemed to turn green.

When I opened my eyes, Lydia was lying on the floor beside me, unconscious. Danny and Aiden were talking to us, asking what was going on. Lydia was grabbed by Aiden while Danny held me, getting both of us inside the club as we were freezing.

That's everything I remembered.

Stiles had been quite worried as soon as he knew I was attacked by something that Mr. Argent had described as absolute darkness. He spent the entire party in search of me, almost having a heart attack when he saw me being held by Danny.

"Okay, so this girl at the party starts talking about phosphors and the key having chemicals on it, right?" We followed Stiles to the classroom where we discovered about Kira being the target. "And so that made me think of the chemistry closet and the fact that someone had to let Barrow in..." He stopped in front of the blackboard. "It's gone. Okay, it doesn't matter though. It doesn't matter. I've still got the key." He glanced down at his keys, searching for the one he wanted. "What the hell? I had it. I had it here. I had it here this morning, I swear to God, I had it this morning."

"The key you were talking about last night?" My brother asked.

"Yeah, I showed it to you, right? Didn't I show it to you?"

"No, you just told me about it. I never actually saw it."

"But I did saw it," I added. "I was there when the key fell from your locker."

"I was here a couple of hours ago. And the message left to Barrow spelling Kira's name was right there on the board in my handwriting, and I had the key to the chemistry closet." His breathing was shaky.

"So you unlocked the chemistry closet, so Barrow could hide in it from the cops and then you wrote him a message to kill Kira?"

Stiles shook his head, attempting to calm his breath. "I know how it sounds. But look at this. This is the news report that came out about Barrow when they caught him, okay?" He showed us a piece of paper. "About the shrapnel bomb that he used. See this? See what he did? He put nuts, bolts and screws. And then he hid the bomb and the detonator in a box that he wrapped as a birthday present. What does that sound like to you?"

"Coach." We realized. "The joke we played on Coach."

"That was my idea. You remember?" My boyfriend glimpsed between both of us. "That was my idea. That's no coincidence. It can't be."

"I don't want to sound like I'm trying to tell you that you're wrong." My brother started to answer his friend, but I quickly interrupted him.

"I don't think you're trying to kill people." I knew Stiles. I knew everything that went through his mind.

"It was here." He squeezed the paper between his hands while his eyes were focused on the blackboard. "It was all here."

My brother and I glanced at each other. "Stiles baby, are you feeling okay? You're looking really tired."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping really."

"Why don't we go home?" I pleaded. "Take a sick day or something."

The next day was a mess. Stiles was more anxious than the habitual, looking around all the time as if he was waiting for something or someone. Scott seemed to be hiding something from us. But as soon as I asked him, he argued that 'I shouldn't worry'.

I was biting my lower lip while one of my hands rubbed the palm of one of Stiles's hands. We were in the hospital, his entire body shaking violently. "Blackouts. But not for that long. And sleepwalking, which I used to do a lot as a kid." Melissa was taking notes of everything the boy was telling. "Um. Also having some really bad anxiety."

"Panic attacks?"

"Yeah, a couple. Oh, and I temporarily lost the ability to read. But that might have had more to do with this giant magic tree and a whole human sacrifice thing." Melissa smirked while shaking her head. The Stilinski boy squeezed my hand.

"I recall something vaguely about that, yes." I sat down next to the boy. My chin resting on his shoulder while my free hand rubbed his entire back in serene patterns. "How many hours of sleep are you getting?"

"Eight."

"A night?"

"In the last three days," I reckoned, knowing he was having trouble to sleep.

"Been feeling irritable?"

"Yeah. Possibly to the point of homicide." Stiles looked quite sick. His skin paler than ever, and the dark circles under his eyes were starting to become scary.

"Inability to focus?"

"No. The Adderall's not working."

"Impulsive behaviour?"

"More than my usual? Hard to tell."

"Vivid dreams during the day?"

"Okay, basically all of the above. Do you know what this is?"

"I think so." Melissa came closer, holding a needle. "Do you trust me?"

"When you're not holding a needle."

"It's Midazolam." She rolled up his t-shirt, rubbing some alcohol with a pad. Then, she injected him. "A sedative."

"Why'd you give me a sedative?"

"Because you, Stiles, are one profoundly sleep-deprived young man." I got up from the bed as Mama McCall made a gesture with her head. "You need rest, and you need it now. Lie down." Her hands softly pushed Stiles to lie down on the bed.

"Okay, how long does it take to-." His eyes became droopy. "Oh. Not long at all."

She placed the blanket over the sleep-deprived boy as his eyes seemed to fight to stay open. "Get some rest." She whispered while my hand caressed his hair.

Both of us got surprised when the hazel-eyed boy gripped Melissa's hand, squeezing it. "Thanks, Mom." We looked at each other, aching for the boy that was now lying on the bed with his eyes closed.

"He is alright?" I gulped, fingers gently caressing his hair and forehead.

"You can stay in the room, okay?" She kissed my cheek. "He just needs to rest. Nothing to worry about." I thanked her, hugging her and loving the feeling of her arms around me. "If you need anything, let me know."

I must have fallen asleep, sitting on the chair because when I woke up, Stiles wasn't on the hospital bed. I ran out of the room, looking everywhere until I found him in a dark empty room.

"Stiles?" His back was turned to me. But as soon as he heard my voice, he swung around. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine." His eyes had seemed darker than before. However, it must have been the light of the room as they quickly went back to their usual colour. "Let's get out of here, sweetcheeks. I'm tired."

Sweetcheeks? What was that?

My sweet dreams were interrupted as my body was shaken forcefully. I shifted, changing positions in my bed, attempting to ignore whoever had dared to try and wake me up.

"Wake up." The voice was quite familiar. "Please, wake up." I groaned when I recognized the voice of my brother, trying to move away from me. "Baby sister, please."

"Scott, let me-."

"Stiles is missing." That was it. I immediately sat down on my bed, eyes wide open as I scrutinised my brother's features in the dark. "He called me. He was crying. He made me promise not to tell Noah or you, but I had to inform you." My eyes were moving around his face, feeling dizzy. "He doesn't know where he is, but he said it looks like a basement and-." His hands squeezed my arms. "There might be someone with him."

I got dressed while shaking. We had decided to go to Stiles's house, break into it.

"How did you know? Did he call you too?" Scott asked as we entered my boyfriend's bedroom, finding Lydia and Aiden.

She shook her head, explaining that she had heard it while Aiden added not to ask how, as we would get even more confused. "Not as confusing as this." The strawberry blonde girl made a gesture with her face.

"He uses red for unsolved cases." I gulped, seeing the red threat punctured in his bed. It looked like someone had made that on purpose. Maybe Stiles Stilinski wasn't just sleepwalking.

"Maybe he thinks he's part of an unsolved case?"

"Or is an unsolved case." Isaac added. Scott had asked him to come with us. He seemed as worried as us.

"Hold on." Lydia turned around to glance at us. "Is he still out there? You don't know where he is?"

My brother glanced at me, noticing the state I was in. "He said he was in an industrial basement somewhere. We came here to get a better scent." His fingers reached out for mine. "Something's wrong with his leg. It's bleeding. And he's freezing." I felt my eyes getting teary.

"Tonight's the coldest night of the year. It's going to drop into the 20s." Aiden replied, receiving a glare from me.

"What did his dad say?"

My brother shook his head. "He made me promise not to. We can find him by scent. If he was sleepwalking, he couldn't have gotten far, right?"

"H-His Jeep is gone," I mumbled, deciding to speak for the first time. "And he is hurt and freezing." My hands went to my hair, tugging on it. "And this is my fault because I was going to stay with him, but he said he didn't want to keep me awake and I just went home, and I should have stayed and-."

"Breathe." Lydia had grabbed my cheeks, wiping my tears. "He is Stiles. He is going to be alright. We are going to find him."

"You guys remember she gets these feelings when someone's about to die, right?"

I glared at Aiden. "Can I fucking kill him myself?" I asked while trying to get closer. Isaac was quick enough to stop me. "No, let me fucking kill him right now. Maybe Lydia felt me killing this ass-."

"Okay okay." My brother tried to calm everyone down. "Let's find Noah."

And we did.

Noah was trying to control his breathing, and I felt stupid as I couldn't control my feelings. Tears, running down my cheeks. "Come on. If his Jeep is gone, that's where we start." He glanced at another officer that was sitting behind his desk. "Parrish, let's get an APB out on a blue 1980 CJ-5 Jeep." Another officer. "Cordova, I want a list of any kind of industrial basement or sub-level of any building that he could've gotten into while sleepwalking. It's the coldest night of the year so far. So If he's out their barefoot in just a T-shirt, he could already be hypothermic. Let's move fast. Let's think fast. The three of you, come with me." We went inside the office as he closed the door behind himself. "Okay. Is there anything you need to tell me that I can't tell anyone out there?" He made a gesture with his arm, asking me to walk closer. As soon as I did, we hugged each other tightly. "We are going to find my son. We are going to find him." I nodded my head against his chest.

"Lydia knew he was missing."

"Can she help find him?" His hand rubbed my back. Noah Stilinski's son was missing, and here I was being comforted by him when we should be comforting him.

"Well, she's working on it."

"Anything else?"

"I called Derek and Allison for help."

Before Noah could speak again, the door of his office was opened by another officer. They had found Roscoe. They had found Stiles's jeep. However, there was no trace of Stiles at the hospital. Derek had offered to go to high school, in case he was there. Scott had gone with Isaac, Lydia, and Noah in search of Stiles as Lydia seemed to believe that she knew where he was.

However, they didn't let me go as my body wouldn't stop shaking fiercely. But they wouldn't keep me away from the case as I wandered with Melissa to the station.

"What are you two doing here?" Rafe McCall asked as he eyed the two of us. His arm was in a cast as he had been hurt.

"My shift was over. I just wanted to see if I could help."

"And you?" He pointed at me.

"The missing person is my boyfriend." I swallowed. It burned to say those words. But it hurt, even more, experiencing them.

"That's why you shouldn't be here." He shook his head. "You are weak right now," His gaze was fixed on me. "Like Noah is. You both shouldn't be involved in a case like this one." He coughed. "It can affect the procedure of the investigation."

"Yeah, nice ted-talk." I nodded my head. "When are we leaving to go find Stiles?"

"You are staying here." He replied.

"You don't order me." Melissa tried to calm us down, but the fierce stare between us was burning.

"Didn't your father teach you to respect elders?" He spat. "Oh, you said he left, right? Did you give him the same attitude you give everyone? That false confident of yours won't bring you far." His gaze was firm. "Life won't treat you right if you behave like that."

"I don't know about my father." I spat back. "He is a coward and an asshole." I stepped closer to him. "You both seem to have things in common."

"It's not my job to teach you what respect is." He glared. "Your father did a terrible job with you."

My eyes were teary, not because of pain or being hurt. They were teary because my boyfriend was out there, hurt and freezing. And I was crying out of rage and disgust for the man that was my father. "You are going to talk about being a father?" I scoffed. "Didn't you leave Scott? You fled from here as soon as you could."

"You don't know anything about me being a father."

"I do," I added, shaking violently. Melissa clutched my arm, trying to stop me from getting closer to the man in front of us. "I know you are an excuse of a father." I nodded my head. "Yes, you are. Leaving as soon as you have an opportunity. Not only did you leave ONE pregnant woman." I spat. "You decided to move to another city and leave another unstable woman pregnant. And what did you do with Scott?"

"Y/N, please." The sweet voice of Melissa almost snapped me back from my rage.

"No!" I shouted. "He wants to know. Let's tell him." I shifted my gaze towards the man all over again. "For how many years were you there for Scott? Did you teach him things about man? Were you there the first time he felt changes on his body? Or when he had to shave for the first time? Where you there?"

"Listen here, you little-."

"Where you there for Alice?" He glanced at me, confused. "Alice O'Sullivan." His eyes shone as her name rolled out of my mouth. "Yeah, you know her. Of course, you do. She was an unstable woman with trust issues. Drugs and alcohol were her only friends. Then, you came along, a married man with a pregnant wife and you decided to convince her that you would leave your wife for her." Tears ran down my cheeks. "And you would travel from family to family, destroying both of them. And your daughter, you completely left her. She was only three years old."

"What are you-."

"You had the little girl's custody. You asked for it, but you were never there for her. And you know what? Her mother wasn't either." Melissa was caressing my back. "At the age of 5, she said her first word because her development was slower due to the situation at home. There was glass all over the floors because she had this funny game of drinking lots of alcohol and throwing the bottles at a wall." I nodded my head. "Yeah, it was funny for Alice. Especially when she made the little girl clean it while disgusting men that she didn't know went to the bedroom with her mom. And she heard these noises, and she didn't know what they were until she grew up."

"Y/N."

"Did you know she would put out her cigarettes on her skin? She would burn her." I glanced at the floor, biting my lip. "Did you know she grew up without anyone? And there was no one to answer her curiosities. She had to learn how to shave with a youtube video, and she had to educate herself in every aspect of life." I gulped. "And when she grew up a little more and understood that her father was nowhere to be seen, she was informed that he had disappeared even though he had her custody." I finally stared at him. "And she had to move from house to house until she started living with a friend of her mom's. Thankfully, that woman was clean." I sniffed. "However, she had to go to Beacon Hills and live with his father's other family. She had to step into a family that wasn't her own. A family that had suffered because of the same man. Because Alice and her daughter were the second family."

"What are you talking about?"

"Yeah. Scott, at first, didn't want anything to do with her. And even though Melissa accepted taking care of the girl, she was hesitant, and when she looked at the girl, she saw her husband cheating and having a child with another woman." His eyes opened wide. "For if you are interested, that girl had to go live with Melissa because YOU had the custody and Miriam, her mother's friend was sick and couldn't take care of you daughter anymore." I never talked about the real reason that bought me to Beacon Hills. "And Miriam was desperate because you weren't answering your phone and she found Melissa and explained the situation." I smiled. "And she was sweet enough to take care of her ex-husband's other child."

"You..."

I nodded my head. "Yeah, I'm that little girl. Y/N McCall." I swallowed. "So yeah, I know how you are as a father and yes, my father," I pointed at him. "Didn't show me respect because he taught me nothing." I wiped my eyes. "Now, if you don't mind. My boyfriend is out there, and we need to fucking find him." I spat, walking towards the door. "Aren't you coming, dad?"

The ride car was filled, with a conversation between Melissa and Rafe, but I decided not to pay attention as my body was still shaking due to the worry I was handling.

.

STILES’S POV

An awful noise made me furrow my eyebrows as my eyes were set on the figure in front of me. "You don't understand, do you?" Its voice sounded distorted, and I wasn't sure if it was my mind playing tricks on me or if it was real. My body was shaking as I was freezing, and my eyes were teary. "It's a riddle. Do you know any riddles, Stiles?"

"A few." A mere whisper came out of my mouth, not having any strength.

"What gets bigger the more you take away?" It asked. Its back still facing me.

"A hole." I replied.

"What gets wetter the more it dries?"

"A towel." I wanted to cry. I wanted to get out of here and be at home. I wanted to be with my dad and my friends and Y/N.

"When is a door not a door?"

I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. "When it's ajar."

"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it." He whispered. "What is it?"

"I don't-."

The monster in front of me exhaled. And as he slowly turned around, I quivered even more. "Everyone has it, but no one can lose it." He shuffled closer. "What is it, Stiles?"

"I don't-. I don't know." I forced my eyes shut.

"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it." Its walk was strange, and I tried to avoid glancing at it. My eyes fixed on the floor, squeezed shut.

It started speaking in a language I couldn't understand at first until I noticed that it was Japanese. I continued shaking while crying, biting my knuckles not to cry loudly.

"I don't know." I met its face. It was full of bandages. The only feature I could observe was his mouth. It was dark with sharp teeth. Was this just a nightmare? This couldn't be a nightmare. This had to be real.

"No, no." He grabbed the chain that had my leg in a trap, dragging me from my injured leg while I scream as loud as I could. I was going to die. I would never thank my dad for everything he did to me and apologize for how troublesome I had always been. I will never be able to thank Scott for being my best friend, even if he had never watched Star Wars. I would never see my other friends. I would never thank Melissa for being a mother figure and talking to me as if she was the woman who birthed me. I would never be able to thank Y/N McCall for appearing in our lives.

Y/N McCall.

I would never be able to do all the things that I wanted to experience with her. I would never be able to kiss her again. I would never be able to hear her voice. In this instant, I was forgetting the sound of her voice.

.

Y/N’S POV

I was shaking, tears falling down my cheeks, not knowing what to do. I was just standing there, observing how Melissa hugged Stiles from the back, trying to calm him down as he screamed. Oh god, it sounded as if someone was torturing him.

After shouting for a couple of minutes, he noticed that Melissa was the one embracing him. It seemed like relief invaded his body as he acknowledged Melissa, falling unconscious in her arms.

She glanced at me. "He is okay, sweetheart. He is okay." Rafe glimpsed at me as he saw me trembling. "He is okay, Y/N." Next thing, I was in Rafe's arms as he had grabbed me from falling to the ground. Exhaustion and relieve invading me in welcoming darkness.

"Hey, hey." A voice whispered. I slowly opened my eyelids, seeing a white light on top of my face. I rapidly closed my eyes until they adjusted to the blinding light. "Hello there." Scott?

"Hi," I replied, rubbing my eyes and slowly sitting down on the bed. I was in a hospital room. "What am I doing h-." I interrupted my own words as I remembered everything that had happened. "Stiles?" I glanced around the room. "Is Stiles okay? Is he-."

"Ssh," My brother's fingers caressed my head. "He is okay. I'm here to bring you with me." The light entering the room made me guess that I had slept through the entire night and part of the early morning. "They are going to do some tests on him."

My heart stopped. "Why?"

"Just in case," He sighed. "His mother had some problems, you know." He nodded his head while licking his lower lip. "They just want to make sure everything is alright."

Following my brother through the corridors of the hospital, I ignored the looks I was receiving as I was wearing one of the pyjamas. Entering a room, I saw my boyfriend sitting down while ready to go on with the tests they wanted to perform on him.

When his gaze met mine, we quickly walked to each other. "You are okay," I affirmed, trying to hear the same thing coming out of his mouth. "Fuck, Stiles. Are you okay?"

His nose was on my neck, breathing me in and embracing me as tight as he could. " I am now." His voice was a little shaky.

"Stiles, just to warn you," The doctor turned around to glance at the boy. My boyfriend sat down while I offered Melissa and Noah a tiny smile. "You're going to hear a lot of noise during the MRI. It's due to pulses of electricity going through metal coils inside the machine. Uh, if you want we can get you earplugs or headphones."

"Oh, no, no," He shook his head. "I don't need anything."

"Hey, we're just on the other side of that window. Okay?"

"Okay." He hugged his dad as the three adults left the room. "You know what they're looking for, right?" He stared at my brother. Then, he moved his gaze to me, asking for me to get closer. I sat down on his lap. "It's called frontotemporal dementia." My brother and I were silent as tears invaded our eyes. "Areas of your brain start to shrink. It's what my mother had. It's the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers. And there's no cure."

My brother and I continued being silent until he wiped his tears. "Stiles, if you have it, we'll do something. I'll do something."

I saw both boys, deeply looking into each other's eyes, and I remembered what Noah told me the night at the school. Boys also needed time to talk and express their feelings. Therefore, I got up from Stiles's lap, kissing his lips softly. It was hard to depart from him, especially when he continued keeping closer and whispering that he was terrified.

When we were strong enough to depart, I let him know that I would be behind the window too. When I walked to the other room, both Noah and Melissa kept me between them. Mama McCall rubbing my back while my head rested on Noah's shoulder. "He will be alright," I whispered.

Our eyes filled with more tears as the two boys hugged each other. Stiles sobbed, and for the first time in my life, I prayed. I prayed for Stiles to be alright.

"I'm going to go to have something to drink." My brother informed, keeping his eyes on the window that separated us from Stiles. "Anyone wants something?" The three of us shook our heads. Scott walked closer to me, kissing my forehead. "Derek is outside," He whispered.

Seeing my brother leaving the room, I just sighed.

"See this? The tissue here and there." The doctor pointed to his computer screen. There was a part of Stiles's head that seemed a little more orange than the rest. "Both those spots are showing signs of atrophy."

No.

"Atrophy." Noah gulped.

No.

"I'm sorry."

No.

The lights went out. But as soon as they did, they also came back. "What was that?" Melissa asked as we all glanced at the ceiling.

"It sounded like a power surge."

"Where's my son?"

I wandered closer to the glass, my hands resting on it. Stiles was nowhere to be found again.

.

.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99 - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos - @littlemiss-forgotten - @enchantedcruelsummer - @coldfreakeggsexpert - @merla123 - @sammypotato67 - @weirdowithnobeardo - @maggiesblogsblog - @itskindyl - @bobo-bush - @moongoddesskiana - @multifandxm353 - @irwxnhugsx - @xoprincessmel - @iclosetgeek - @andreagf956 - @niawoods - @anerroroccurrrrred - @perrytheplatypus11 - @trustfundparker - @nmriia - @steve-harringtonnn - @trustfundparker - @brithedemonspawn - @weirdowithnobeardo - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @azayamari - @poguestyle17 - @bibliophilewednesday - @10minutesofscreentime - @momentitodebruh - @drikawinchester - @perrytheplatypus11 - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @linkpk88 - @royalreadery - @sweetest-serpent01 - @teenwaywardasgardian - @sadcupofcoffee - @maliyamay - @seninjakitey​ - @tairisceana​ - @thegirlwhoimagined​ - @mackingjj​  -

People in bold means it doesn’t let me tag them.

[thr-333]

Drastic Measures- Part 15

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Cats~

Did I set up a whole pet store b plot? Yes. could I have easily used it for this promt? Yes. but I live to be unpredictable~

Also I’m gonna give you all fair warning I’m starting to foster kittens tomorrow(huh cats good timing) so if I miss an update it is all their fault.

Ao3

First < Previous

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

“So was this how you did it?” Damian asks, leaving the plane on autopilot.

“No, it was a lot less private jets and a lot more magic portals,” Marinette hands him a drink because oh yeah there's a fridge on this plane stocked to the brim, “Won’t he figure out where we are?”

“No this is a card Jason gave me he says Father never caught him so he won't catch me,” Damian sits down across from her, a sea of clouds out the window, “He actually had a whole box full I’m a little concerned,”

“Well you know as long as he doesn't do anything drastic, like buy a plane,” Marinette scoffs gazing out the window. She feels Damian's eyes on her but he doesn't say anything so she lets it be.

“How did I never realize you were Ladybug?” He’s looking at her like she's the world, a look she never gets out of the mask it feels undeserved.

“How did I never realize you were Robin?” Marinette snarks back, anything not to feel that knot in her chest, “I mean the way you tried to kill me was so reminiscent,”

“... I tried to kill you,” Damian seems stricken by the realization.

“Twice,”

“I am very sorry,” 

“... Wow,” And dammit he does look sincere, and she was ready to forgive him on his half-baked apology before how was she meant to stand up to this?

“What?”

“Oh no I was just expecting to hear your brothers scream or something,” Marinette shrugs, Damian rolls his eyes but relaxes, “You actually apologized,”

“Yes surprisingly I understand the concept,” Damian snaps not looking directly at her.

“Now you’re back,” Marinette smiles, letting herself relax.

“About what happened,” Damian breaks the silence again, “The whole soul mate ordeal, does that actually exist?”

“In a way, usually not the way people think,” Marinette faces him turning on more of her Ladybug confidence, “The universe is all about balance, that's the whole point of the miraculous, like the creation of the Ladybug miraculous has to be balanced by the destruction of the Cat miraculous, if it’s not, the world is out of balance, you get things like Hawkmoth,”

“So that’ll happen to us?” Damian leans forward with rapt attention.

“No, miraculous are powerful examples but balance applies to people too, soul mates balance each other out if one dies then the other person is off-balance,” Marinette makes vague gestures to support her explanation, “Sometimes the effects are minimal sometimes they are extreme, it all depends on how well you know your soulmate and if you have a miraculous,”

“What happens if they have a miraculous?”

“Well miraculous have more power and if you wear them long enough that power becomes part of you, if only one person has that power than the bond is off-balance, so usually the guardians try to pair up soulmates to hold the miraculous,”

“So you-”

“Extenuating circumstances,” Marinette waves off before it can be mulled over, “Master- the guardian that chose me feared it might have negative effects on you but I guess being… everything balanced it out a bit more,”

“So you said it’s not romantic,” Damian's blushing now, Marinette holds her breath, “Does that mean-”

They are thrown to the side, alarms start blaring and they are losing altitude quickly.

“What's going on?!” Marinette stands up shakily, using the seat to pull herself up.

“We’ve been shot,” Damian's running to the cockpit, “We’re going down,”

“Damian!” Marinette grabs him, the ground is visible now and they are quickly approaching the forest. 

There's no miraculous to protect them. Marinette grabs the parachutes passing one to Damian they shrug them on before opening the door.

“Ever done this before!?” Damian shouts over the wind.

“Nope!” and with that Marinette jumps out of the crashing plane.

She stops the fall by deploying her parachute, drifting down as the plane crashing into the rain forest. She gets tangled in the canopy trees, getting out of the parachute Marinette makes her way down to the forest floor far from the crash here and no Damian insight.

“Hey, Damian! Where are you!” Marinette shouts meeting silence, running through the jungle, “Are you alright!? Answer me!”

“Define alright,” Marinette looks up above her and there Damian is, hanging from the branches like a ragdoll, “do not laugh,”

“I’m not laughing,” Marinette is definitely laughing, “No I’m just checking my phone up high like I always do, ignore that sound pretty sure it’s just a bird,”

“Marinette stop taking pictures and get me down,”

“Alright, alright,”

She does with some trouble eventually getting Damian down safely.

“So whereabouts are we?” Marinette peers through the trees.

“Jungle, far from our target,” Damian has his specialized GPS out, “We’ll have to find the nearest town and get transport,”

“Right, town,” She whistles,  “There seems to be an abundance of those around,”

“There's one a few days walk from here,”

“Perfect,” Marinette rolls her eyes, following Damian's lead, “Who shot us down anyway?”

“Could be the military, wouldn’t put anything past Father, there may be a villain base nearby,” Damian lists, “Or perhaps, it was some poachers,”

“What Damian you didn’t spring for the armored jet?”

“I would have if I didn’t-” He stops looking at her despondently, “You’re messing with me,”

“Yep, but the fact you fell for it is very revealing,” Marinette pats him on the shoulder walking forward. She gets the distinct feeling of being watched and looks around casually as possible, spotting the source,  “In other news have you seen that mushroom over there,”

“We’re being followed,” Damian whispers to where she was pointing near the hunter.

“Amazing deduction, if only someone had pointed you in that direction,” Damian smirks before Marinette asks, “Who could it be, Batman? Assassins?”

“Or the people that shot us down, or both,”

They both watch cautiously taking a step forward, then they get attacked. Marinette and Damian dodge to the side in time. And no it’s not Batman or a villain or anyone else its-

“Big kitty!” Marinette squeals the tiger prowling towards her. Marinette reaches out with her magic trying to soothe them.

“Marinette stand back,” Damian warns, forced to the opposite side.

 “Please Damian this thing looks so starved I could speed walk away from it and it wouldn't catch up,” Marinette reaches out, cautiously despite her flippant attitude. The tiger sniffs her hand before bumping against it harmlessly, her creation magic soothing it, “Come on let's help her out,”

“How on earth did you pull me into adopting a tiger?” Damian asks as they stalk through the forest tiger in tow.

“Please, I’d probably have to hold you back from adopting it,” Damian doesn't deny it, “We’re just making sure she gets some food,”

“And how are we not turning into that food?” Damian asks, backing up as the Tiger stalks closer to him.

“Miraculous magic, animals tend to love me,”

“Especially cats,” Damian says a weird pinch to his tone.

“Sure, cats, ladybugs… oh,” She stops, looking back at him.

“You said miraculous holders should be soul mates,” Damian's talking to the ground.

“Yeah but Adrien's not my soul mate,” Marinette puts her hands on his shoulders, “You are,”

“So you two arent?”

“Not at all,” Marinette smiles, Damian relaxes and they keep walking.

“That's good,”

“Good?” 

“I didn’t say that,” He’s blushing now and Marinette’s not above teasing.

“Yes you did~”

“Marinette shhh, we’re trying to hunt here,” Damian shushes her still in a teasing tone. Marinette laughs, running to catch up.

 ---

 The hunt goes well. Well enough that Marinette should be more worried the tiger is about to adopt Damian not the other way around. They are carrying the kill for the tiger back to the den. She goes inside while they set the food down outside.

“Do you think she has babies!?” Marinette is also not above using her magic to pat tiger cubs.

“I’d say by the empty den no,” Damian backs up from his peeking when she stalks out, pacing around the area.

“I’d say by her distress and these footprints that yes,” Marinette glares in the direction the footprints go, “And that this isn’t good,”

“Follow me, I’ll track them,” Damian runs forward, closely followed.

“Another hunt, goodie,”

“You know a problem with your sarcasm Marinette is that I don’t know when you’re being genuine,”

“Oh, Damian I always use genuine sarcasm,”

Damian holds back whatever comeback he has, instead, running faster. They track the footprints through the rain forest. It isn’t far until they find the poachers. And it takes considerably less time for Ladybug and the former Robin to take them down.

“There you go sweetheart,” Marinette hands the two cubs back to their mother, not before getting in a quick pat.

“Yeah considering this man's arm that's not accurate,” Damian begrudgingly bandages the guy's arm, not with the best bedside manner.

“Yes it is~” Marinette coos at the mother fretting over the babies, “I suppose we have to take them to the hospital,”

“Right in the main city, and we should use their truck,” Damian grins evilly, Marinette matches it.

“There are closer-”

“Hush you,” Marinette gags the poachers for good measure, all of them bound.

“We’re taking a job at the Royal palace, you can be sure that we’ll mention you,” Damian glared coldly down at the men, “I would recommend not making your review any more unflattering,”

---------

no taglist :P

[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (5)

“What do you make of all this?” Toshinori asked, when they were finally alone. They’d momentarily parked the kid in the hallway with a cup of tea while the hero had followed Tsukauchi in his office as he took care of the last bureaucratic dregs of the questioning.

“As I see it, there are two major possibilities we ought to consider.” Tsukauchi said without taking his eyes off the monitor of his computer. “The first is that Midoriya’s quirk is just a mutation, and he is in no way related to All For One. His father is likely a government official whose position grants him knowledge of enough confidential files to make him fear negative repercussions in case his son’s quirk was publicly known, and has therefore enforced silence on the matter. We aren’t looking at any outstanding crimes here, although this man isn’t going to win any Parent of the Year awards any time soon.”

Toshinori grimaced. Wouldn’t that be nice? “And what are the odds of this being our case?”

“I wouldn’t bet my next paycheck on it, for sure.” Tsukauchi typed something on the keyboard, and checked his phone at the same time, before sighing and leaning back in his chair. “The other possibility is that Midoriya is indeed related to All For One, maybe even his son. He’s been fostered to a trusted associate of his and kept in the dark about everything.”

That option could be more statistically or genetically likely, but it still didn’t sit right with Toshinori. “That doesn’t sound like something All For One would do though. Why not raise him as a successor, or even just an underling? Surely another All For One wielder would have made for an important asset to his schemes.”

“You forget that Midoriya’s quirk manifested only two years ago. It is possible that All For One may have planned to do so, but lost interest when the child was deemed quirkless.” Tsukauchi scratched his head pensively. “As for why he didn’t keep the kid close since his birth… we can only assume it was out of caution. Fourteen years ago you had already put a significant dent in All For One’s syndicate and influence. Maybe he was already taking precautions against his own downfall, and didn’t want his potential successor to be involved in case things took a turn for the worse too quickly.”

“... I guess that makes sense.” Toshinori nodded. As per habit, he sent a quiet thanks to his lucky star for accidentally baring his secret to a damnably honest and capable member of the force such as Tsukauchi, God knew Toshinori himself wasn’t exactly cut out for fine deductive work. “In this case, the boy’s father…”

“...Is a former subordinate of All For One’s currently employed by the government, yes. Not a pleasant scenario to work with.” Tsukauchi waited for the printer to regurgitate a disproportionate stack of documents that made Toshinori instinctively recoil. The detective flipped through the paperwork quickly before sprinkling his signature on just about every odd sheet. “Regardless of which of the two hypotheses is true, I definitely want to look into this Hisashi Midoriya. He is by far the most suspicious aspect of the boy’s account.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t visit his family for a decade and a half, he doesn’t talk about his job, he doesn’t follow basic legal procedures, and you can tell he had more of an active role in encouraging Midoriya to hide the quirk than the kid lets on... It doesn’t exactly paint a reassuring picture.” Toshinori sighed. “This isn’t going to be easy for the boy…”

“It never is, when a family member is involved in criminal activities. But the fact that their relationship seems rather distant may make things a little less traumatic for him.” Tsukauchi checked his watch as he tidied up some stationery and turned off his computer. “Well, I guess I’m not too unforgivably late for my other meeting since we don’t have to question Mrs. Midoriya.”

“...Sorry about that. And for springing this on you all of a sudden.” Toshinori said with an apologetic grimace and his utmost sincerity. “You’re a saint.”

Tsukauchi’s small smile implied that he was well aware of the fact. “I’ll drive Midoriya home while I’m on my way to the city hall. Do you need a lift? Or do you want me to let you on the rooftop for a smoke?” That bit of code speak would never not be tragically ironic, Toshinori thought.

“No, I’ve already finished my shift for the day.” All three, scant, scattered hours of it. Japan’s finest, most dependable hero, ladies and gentlemen.

“Then thank you for your hard work.” His friend gave him a quick look and a brief, firm squeeze to his shoulder before heading to the door. No pity, no unrequested sympathy, no disingenuous praise, just straightforward respect and understanding. He really was one of a kind.

Midoriya was exactly where they’d left him, busy fiddling with his phone. He perked up when he saw them return. “Uh, my mother just texted me back. She says she’ll be home in about an hour. If you still want to talk to her.”

Tsukauchi hesitated. “It’s a little too late for me, I’m afraid. I’m expected somewhere else, but…”

“I can wait.“ Toshinori immediately volunteered. “It won’t be as thorough or official as if you interviewed her yourself, but if it can lighten your workload just a little…”

“...Well, I don’t see why not. Hop in the car with us then.”

The return trip was silent. Toshinori glanced at Midoriya a couple of times from the rearview mirror, and he always caught him in an ill-concealed state of unrest. Fidgeting with his phone, picking at the seatbelt, gazing nervously out of both car windows. Toshinori didn’t like that. Why all that agitation, now that the worst of the ordeal was supposedly over?

The boy eventually locked eyes with him. “...Oh. Uhm.”

“Something on your mind?” Toshinori asked.

“Uh, well, I was wondering…” His gaze dropped to his knees. “Are you going to tell my mother about my quirk?”

“I’m afraid so. She is bound to find out anyway, eventually. The police will issue an update on your quirk registration, as per the norm in such cases.”

“...Ah.” Oh boy, now he looked like a kicked puppy. That was just depressing.

“I don’t necessarily have to be the one to break the news to her though. If it makes you feel any better, you can tell her about the incident in your own words.” Toshinori offered, hoping to soften the blow.

“I… I think I would prefer that. Thank you.” The boy quietly acquiesced.

Tsukauchi shot Toshinori a pointed look. All right, maybe that wasn’t the most proper way to go about it, maybe standard procedure demanded the officer in charge to keep mother and son separate during the questioning and explain things personally in the most objective possible terms. But Toshinori wasn’t an officer, he was a washed-up alter-ego of the Symbol of Peace acting in semi-official consulting capacity, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try to make things a little less humiliating for the forlorn child in the back. He condensed that whole argument into a meaningful glance of his own, that Tsukauchi couldn’t hold for more than two seconds lest he drove them all straight into the back of a truck. Toshinori took that as unspoken permission to proceed as he saw fit.

“I’ll be leaving this in your capable hands then.” Tsukauchi said as the two stepped out of the car. The man had a veritable talent for conveying irony while maintaining the straightest of faces and the driest of tones.

“Your trust is deeply appreciated. Drive safely!” Toshinori shut the door of the car decisively and waved him off with a dazzling smile.

“Uhm. Okay.” Midoriya said, his eyes darting between the hero and the speeding car with obvious perplexity. “Mom won’t be here for at least another forty minutes. I can fetch that photo you wanted in the meantime. I think I know where it is… probably...”

“I’ll take you up on that, thank you.” Toshinori followed him across the parking lot and up the stairs of the apartment complex. The boy’s eagerness to please was a sight for sore eyes in this cold, self-serving world. “You really did something commendable today, you know? Not many people would be so ready to relieve the pain of those who hurt them. That villain owes you more than he’ll ever know.”

“Oh…” The boy fiddled with his keys as a light redness tinged his cheeks. “It’s nothing, really. It isn’t my place to judge anyone... let alone steal from them. I just hope he’ll get better soon.”

“I’ll keep you up to date on his condition, if you want.”

“Oh, you don’t need to! It’s fine!” Midoriya’s instinctual politeness clashed against Toshinori’s no-nonsense availability. It was a fierce battle, but one didn’t become the number one hero without developing a certain skill in staring people into reasonableness. Midoriya surrendered with a small smile. “...I-It would put my mind at ease though.”

“Then I shall.” Toshinori claimed with finality. “Honestly, I wish I could have done more today for you and Tsukauchi. You two took care of all the heavy lifting and data collecting while I just stood around doing nothing the whole time.”

“You did, didn't you…?” Toshinori’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Well, he hadn’t been expecting that candid a confirmation of his uselessness. Midoriya flinched and started flailing about in obvious distress as soon as he realized he’d voiced that thought aloud. “N-No! I mean- I don’t mean that you were- What I’m saying is that you didn’t really need to come. But you did anyway! F-For my sake, I get that. Because you promised you’d help me out, even if you surely have better things to do with your time, and… I truly appreciate it. Really.”

Toshinori laughed softly. Yes, ‘truly appreciative’ was indeed the boy’s default mood whenever he was graced with the barest amount of consideration, as far as the hero had witnessed in their short acquaintance. He didn’t think it was some sort of hero-worship-related response either, the kid just seemed that sensitive to it. “Don’t worry about it. It’s part of the job.”

“Is it?” Midoriya finally opened the door and they stepped inside. He let out a small chuckle of his own as they removed their shoes. “I guess I have new insight to add to the online speculation about All Might’s decreasing workload. I guess it is to be expected if yo- if he’s taken  to follow up on all his cases so thoroughly.”

Toshinori had to fight back a traitorous cough. “W-well, there is really no need for me to overexert myself nowadays as I used to do in the past.“ He started, automatically supplying his PR-certified response to any inquiry on the topic. Goodness, people really did notice, didn’t they? It was hardly a new concern, but still… “The crime rate has been decreasing steadily, and the industry is so saturated with heroes that there’s someone ready to intervene almost at any place and at any given time. And those heroes could use the money and exposure way more than me…” Toshinori trailed off as they made their way to the living room. The boy was regarding him with unnerving attention, as if memorizing his speech word for word. “There are other reasons too, of course…”

Midoriya cocked his head to the side curiously, expecting further elaboration. Then it clicked, and he fleetingly glanced at the hero from head to toe with open contrition. “O-Oh! Of course! Your… Sorry, I forgot.”

That simple sentence confused Toshinori so much that he couldn’t help but gape back. The silence grew very awkward very quickly. “...Uhm. So, that photo of yours?”

“R-Right! I’ll go look for it! Make yourself comfortable! Be right back!” The boy bolted fast enough to leave metaphorical dust clouds behind him.

Toshinori wandered to the nearest chair with small steps. He forgot. That was quite the feat, while literally standing in front of the sad, wrecked husk that Toshinori had become. Or maybe the kid hadn’t realized that his appearance was a relatively recent development. That seemed more likely. Perhaps he had interpreted his vague answer about his quirk to mean that the number one hero had always been just that, a sickly, overachieving twig in a bodysuit keeping his own skeleton in the closet for nearly forty years.

Toshinori let out a sigh. Quite the uplifting impression he was leaving with this young one.

His circling thoughts were interrupted by a yelp, and the thundering noise of some heavy objects crashing just outside the living room.

“Midoriya?” Toshinori called, jumping to his feet. The second unanswered call had him by the source of the noise in a moment.

“I’m here! I’m fine!” Midoriya’s voice finally answered, from behind a half-closed door conspicuously marked as ‘Izuku’ by a familiar blond-banged nameplate. 

“What was that?”

“Just… some stuff that fell down...” Toshinori approached it and peeked inside. Even from his limited perspective, he could see the boy sitting on the floor and rubbing his forehead, next to a tipped-over chair.

“And did that stuff happen to include you?” Toshinori deadpanned, inviting himself in... and pausing on the threshold. Taking in the interior of the boy’s bedroom. Which wasn’t the priority right now. He willed himself to ignore the star-spangled elephant in the room assaulting his senses and knelt down beside Midoriya, gently peeling his hand away from the sore spot. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no, it’s just a bump.” 

“You should put some ice on it.” There were no cuts or outer signs or damage, which was a good start. Toshinori’s eyes fell on the bottom half of the toppled piece of furniture beside them. “...Did you seriously try to climb on a rolling chair?”

“I do that all the time. It’s steadier than it looks!” There was no appropriate reply to such a claim, but Toshinori’s judgemental glare was enough to make the boy squirm. “I’m fine, really-”

“Ice.” He pointed sternly at the corridor. Maybe there was still a minimal chance of preventing an oversized lump on Midoriya’s forehead from outing to Tsukauchi and other responsible adults the fact the boy had nearly cracked his skull within five minutes of being left in Toshinori’s charge.

“All right. Just a second.” Toshinori kept an eye on the kid, making sure he wasn’t struggling to keep his balance, as he made his way out of the room. Room that Toshinori was now free to observe in all its embarrassing magnificence.

A soft All Might carpet. All Might-themed bedding. Walls plastered with All Might posters. All Might-patterned curtains. Shelves and shelves and shelves of All Might action figures and books. 

It was always… humbling to be reminded of how much passion and care people from so many different walks of life could put in something as trivial as collecting hero merchandise - his hero merchandise, more often than not. Popularity and revenue were Toshinori’s very last priorities when it came to his job, but, despite merchandising being exactly about those, he wasn’t opposed to the practice in principle. It did help cement the reassuring image of the Symbol of Peace in the collective mind, which was definitely one of his lifetime goals. It brought a sizable influx of wealth to the agency’s treasury, which he largely redirected to charity and assorted emergency relief funds. It did seem to spark genuine joy and entertainment in both children and adults. And, when none of these arguments were enough to wash away the vague sense of guilt that came with profiting off the love and admiration of Japan’s fine citizens, Toshinori reminded himself that there were much worse, self-destructive indulgences people could waste their savings on. Alcohol. Tobacco. Drugs. Troll 2 DVDs. The like.

Midoriya reappeared nursing an ice pack against his temple. “Sorry about that. The photo should be in one of those boxes.” He gestured towards the wardrobe that sported a brown cardboard box on the top, and then towards the floor, where its twin lay sideways after a presumably rough landing. They cut through the tape of the latter and, after Midoriya emphatically assured him that he didn’t mind him browsing through his personal belongings in the slightest, Toshinori joined the kid on the carpet in their quest for the photographic Holy Grail. 

“I probably slipped it inside one of these…” The boy said, pulling out small piles of notebooks and publications. Toshinori confined his perusal to dated magazines, comics and books that didn’t seem likely to invade Midoriya’s privacy. The first box yielded no result.

“Maybe it’s in that one. Let me get another chair- oh.” Toshinori only needed to raise his arms and strain slightly on his toes to comfortably reach the top of the wardrobe and retrieve the second- crap, that was heavy. How the kid planned to pull it down himself while standing on wheels was beyond him. “Thank you.”

Toshinori was sitting cross-legged and flipping through an old gossip magazine lavishing pages and pages of speculation on the meager information they had managed to scrape together on his association with Dave - ah, those were the days… - when Midoriya finally let out a triumphant Aha!

“Found it!” He regarded his prize with joy, but his expression quickly morphed into concentration and then confusion. Toshinori held out his hand expectantly, and the boy deposited the photo into it while indicating a specific spot. “It’s, uh… my father’s this one.”

Toshinori looked at the man in question.

And froze.

“He doesn’t…” He heard the boy say distantly, as if from kilometres away. “He looks… a bit different from the picture in the police file…”

Toshinori coughed. He was different, all right. Subtly, cunningly so. Both men had short, snow-white hair, both had relatively plain features and pale complexion, both had faintly-colored eyes that could pass as blue under the right light. They were similar enough that they could be mistaken for one another, when described verbally. But the man in Tsukauchi’s file was a stranger to Toshinori. The man in this photo wasn’t.

“This-” The hero managed, between small bursts of coughs that he couldn’t restrain. “This is the man that- told you to keep quiet about your quirk-”

“Y-Yes.” Midoriya was gawking at him with obvious concern, and it only got worse when the hero’s words sank in. “I-I mean, he didn’t- he just- we sort of agreed that-”

“And the-” Toshinori covered his mouth with his hand, already tasting iron on his tongue as he patted his trousers to find some tissues. “The last time you spoke to him was…?”

“A little less than a month ago.”

Something inside Toshinori just gave up on trying to hold it together. He erupted into a brutal fit, vicious enough to shake his whole body and squeeze his eyes shut. He heard the boy asking something in alarm, and he felt warm blood trickling down his chin before he finally got ahold of a handkerchief to press against his lips. He hacked and spluttered for an interminable minute, his throat and chest tight and sore from the effort. Eventually it died down, and he found himself hunched over and bracing himself against the floor, wheezing and struggling for breath as something shuffled beside him. He turned to check on the noise, and saw Midoriya tapping on his phone.

“Don’t.” Toshinori rasped, swallowing down the remaining blood coating his mouth and reaching out to gesture at him dismissively with his clean hand. “I’m fine.”

“N-no, you aren’t.” The kid looked on the verge of fainting himself. Toshinori followed his horrified gaze, only to notice he’d sprayed plenty of little crimson stains on both the photo and the carpet, not to mention his own clothes. Damn, that was a mess even by his standards. “B-But- it’s okay, I’ll call an-”

Toshinori unceremoniously plucked the phone from Midoriya’s grasp, made sure that he hadn’t dialed any number, and tossed it on his bed. No need to make the situation even more headache-inducing than it already was. “I mean it. It happens. Don’t worry.”

Toshinori cleared his throat as he contemplated the ruined piece of evidence anew. At least he hadn’t marred the spot containing ‘Hisashi Midoriya’. Despite the less than optimal angle, there could really be no doubt. There was no mistaking that face for anyone else’s, it had been seared in Toshinori’s mind by more than three decades of pain and regret.

...Shit.

Shit.

Toshinori collected the picture from the floor and stood up to drop it on the kid’s desk, where it sat innocently surrounded by dozens of pieces of licensed All Might memorabilia.

“...So this is your father, and he’s alive and well.” He stated it aloud and with scorn, because he felt it was important for the universe to hear that its sense of humor didn’t fly with everyone.

“Ehr. Yes. Do you-”

“All right. Okay. Fine.” Toshinori turned on his heels and headed for the door. “Excuse me, I have to make a phone call.”

“...To your doctor?” Midoriya asked apprehensively, visibly starting to doubt the hero’s mental as well as physical well-being.

“No.” He almost stamped a huge, bloody handprint on his slacks before remembering that he still looked like he’d just slaughtered a pig and devoured it raw. “Can I use the bathroom?”

“Second door on the left.” The boy muttered, too stunned by now to object to any of Toshinori’s tangents.

Toshinori washed his face, neck and hands, and rinsed his mouth. He decided he couldn’t bother to do anything about the state of his clothes. He took care of scrubbing the sink too once he was done, making sure he didn’t accidentally leave any red smears on it. He dried his hands and fetched his phone.

“Tsukauchi? Sorry, can you make it back to Midoriya’s house? Yes, as soon as you can. ...No, but we found that photo. You need to see it, it’s… it’s him.”

He closed the call and stared at his reflection on the mirror. His brain didn’t produce a single coherent thought. He walked back to the kid’s room.

Midoriya was peering at the picture intently, even though he hadn’t moved it from where Toshinori had left it. The man’s eyes fell on the scattered blots on the carpet. In his experience, there wasn’t much hope of removing them completely, but it seemed rude not to try, at least. “Got any cleaning supplies?”

Midoriya blinked at him owlishly. “In the bathroom. Under the sink.”

One short trip later, Toshinori was back with paper towels and rubbing alcohol. He waved the boy off when he made to kneel down beside him to help. He handed him the ice pack that lay forgotten on the floor, and the kid pressed it back on his forehead mechanically as he sat on his bed. Toshinori could benefit from only a couple of minutes of silence before Midoriya spoke.

“You know him.”

“...Yes.”

“You’re upset.” 

Toshinori wondered if it showed on his face, or if it was just an educated guess based on the half-baked spontaneous hemorrhage he’d just displayed. He didn’t reply, his attention ostensibly focused on dabbing lightly at each smudge.

“Why…” The boy’s voice faltered. “W-Why is there a photo of another man in the police records?”

Toshinori couldn’t hold back a deep exhale. He wasn’t sure he was the most qualified person to have this conversation with the boy. He surely wasn’t the most eager to.

“All Might.” He felt compelled to raise his gaze. Midoriya was pale, his eyes wide and shiny with unshed tears. His expression was heartbreakingly imploring. “Please.”

He was going to find out anyway, at least the bare bones of it. Kindness was one thing, cowardice was another. Denying him an answer at this point felt more like the latter.

“I know him because he is known to the police. He’s a villain.”

“...A villain…?” The information bounced right against Midoriya’s shock. Toshinori gave him a curt nod. “No… no, that’s… not…” 

Toshinori could track the gradual, painstaking process of acceptance the poor kid was going through from the aborted expressions quickly blurring into each other. Horror, fear, confusion, disbelief. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob.

“A-Are you sure?”

Toshinori hesitated. Was there any other possibility they weren’t considering? “Are you absolutely certain that that’s the person you’ve been talking to?”

“I… I’ve never met him in person. B-But mom has, and she’s been talking to him too. She said it’s him.”

“...Then I’m afraid there can be no mistake.” It felt like dropping a boulder on the child’s chest, and the way Midoriya crumpled onto himself, cradling his head in both his hands, reinforced that gut-churning impression. Toshinori made no effort to conceal the sympathy in his whisper. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“H-He said…” The rest of that thought was swallowed into distraught silence.

“He told you he worked for the government?”

Midoriya took his time to answer, and he did so with a half-choked snort. “He… he never did, actually. I thought… He said things that… made me think…”

Toshinori grit his teeth. Figures. That silver-tongued demon wouldn’t spare even a child from his precious little mind games. “I can imagine.”

The silence that followed was only broken by the boy’s quiet sniffles, and it was so long that Toshinori believed the kid to have exhausted his reserve of bravery for further questions. He’d resumed his ill-concealed procrastination via blood-cleaning when the next inquiry dropped.

“What did he do?”

Oh, man. What didn’t he do? “He’s been involved in a variety of criminal activities, both directly and indirectly. He’s… quite the nasty customer.”

“Since when? How long for?” Midoriya gripped his head even more tightly, his fingers digging deep among his curls. 

Toshinori had the distinct feeling that his well-meaning honesty was now trespassing into inadvertent cruelty. “We should wait for your mother before discussing this any-”

“Please.” Midoriya’s head snapped up, and the weight and emotion of those emerald eyes pierced through him like a blade. “Please, just tell me.”

Fourteen years of lies. Toshinori couldn’t bear to add even one more to the heap. “...Since long before you were born.”

Midoriya’s head dropped anew. Toshinori got back on his feet, unsure whether a kind word or a pat on the head could possibly ease that burden even slightly-

The ring of the doorbell made them both flinch, bursting that odd bubble of private desolation that had enveloped the boy’s room. They made their way out of the room, Midoriya quietly trailing behind the hero as the man opened the front door.

Tsukauchi opened his mouth to greet them, and froze. His eyes immediately homed in on the blood liberally splattered on Toshinori’s clothes, and on the melted ice pack Midoriya was still absently pressing to his temple. 

“...What happened?”

Inko Midoriya had the same dark green hair as her son, styled in a way that made something inside Toshinori’s chest ache with nostalgia and familiarity. She had the countenance of a demure, quiet, respectable housewife that valued stability and her loved ones’ well-being above all, and would never even conceive of starting a family with anyone any less sensible than she was.

That was why Toshinori was thrown for a loop when, upon being informed that her absentee husband was a criminal, she simply closed her eyes and bowed her head with a sigh and a resigned “...Yes, I am aware.”

Toshinori let Tsukauchi lead the questioning, as usual. Inko had met ‘Hisashi Midoriya’ (under a different alias, at the time) when she was twenty-six, working as a secretary at the main branch of Detnerat. The man had been introduced to her as a representative from another support item company doing some preliminary checks on Detnerat for a potential merger. 

This was unusual, but not exceedingly so. In the nearly thirty years he’d spent meticulously dismantling All For One’s organization, Toshinori had gathered evidence of him personally handling certain aspects of his schemes with surprising regularity, even relatively minor tasks or dirty deeds that could easily and safely be entrusted to his subordinates. He hardly ever found any specific reasons for All For One’s direct involvement. Toshinori strongly suspected that the bastard simply didn’t enjoy the lifestyle of the cooped-up, invisible puppeteer, and sometimes just felt like wrecking some havoc with his own diabolical hands. 

Inko had been charged with supplying him with quite a sizable amount of rather sensitive data, but since the CEO in person had given the authorization, she had performed her task diligently and unsuspectingly.

Now, Toshinori had been expecting the worst to emerge while questioning the circumstances that had led Inko Midoriya to her current marital status. Without exaggerating, the very worst. Any sort of revolting account of manipulation, coercion, even human experimentation, there was no low All For One wouldn’t stoop to. They had confined the boy to his room before starting for that exact reason. 

But apparently the universe wasn’t done throwing curve balls at Toshinori that day, and what they’d gotten instead was the succinct description of what seemed to be, by all accounts, a perfectly ordinary and unassuming workplace romance. One instigated mainly by Inko herself, no less. Toshinori’s strained mind didn’t quite know what to make of that baffling information, so it promptly repressed it. 

“We didn’t keep seeing each other after he stopped coming to the company, but I did reach out to him when I found out I was pregnant. That was when I became aware that there was much I didn’t know about him.”

“How so?”

“He told me.” Inko replied simply. “He was... forward about it, in a way. He said that he couldn’t settle down in any given place, nor spare the time for being part of a family. He offered to let me join him in his activities, but… the way he worded it made it clear that he wasn’t talking of any sort of legal business.”

“Did he mention any details about what his ‘business’ entailed, in general or in that specific time frame?”

“No, not at all. But considering how we met, I assume he must be involved in industrial espionage.” Grief, brief but intense, shadowed on the woman’s features for a moment. “I… I resigned from Detnerat as soon as I found out. He had been asking rather sensitive questions about the inner workings of the company, and… even though I never technically shared confidential information, I felt like I had exposed it to too great a danger because of my irresponsible conduct. And, honestly… I was afraid of what could emerge if I kept working there in my condition.”

Toshinori rubbed his hands in his lap uncomfortably. No job, a son on the way, a presumably disreputable partner to deal with… What a wretched situation to find oneself in.

“You said he offered you to join him? In what way, exactly?” Tsukauchi asked from above the pages and pages of notes filling his notepad.

“...I am not sure. I didn’t ask, I had no intention of getting caught in that sort of environment. Nor did I want Izuku to grow up embroiled in dubious activities from an early age.” Inko’s brows furrowed, and her fist clenched slightly. “...I didn’t want him to feel abandoned either though. I didn’t want him to grow thinking his father had deserted him. I asked Hisashi to grant us that, at least. Financial support and the decency to call, once in a while.”

Toshinori couldn’t hold back a sharp cough at that. Inko regarded him with a mix of concern and suspicion. 

He couldn’t blame her for it. He had accidentally caused her a fair share of grief when, her son having forgotten to warn her to expect guests upon her return, she’d opened the front door and found a freakishly tall, gaunt, haunted-looking, bloodied stranger looming in her hallway. Toshinori had waited in a conveniently secluded corner of the living room, trying to make himself look as small and non-threatening as possible, while Tsukauchi delivered the proper introductions and deflected the few concerned neighbors her terrified scream had attracted. Not exactly brilliant, as first impressions went.

“And he agreed to that?” Toshinori croaked.

“Yes. I was expecting some resistance, but… he agreed almost immediately.”

Toshinori gaped at the remissive-looking, soft-spoken woman who had once been capable of browbeating All For One into exercising a modicum of fatherly commitment. This whole Midoriya case was getting more and more unbelievable by the hour.

Tsukauchi cleared his throat pointedly. Toshinori scraped back together what little dignity he had left and tried to soldier on.

“Please continue, Mrs. Midoriya.” The detective encouraged.

“There isn’t much else to say, I think. I didn’t hear from him for months after that. I contacted him a few days after Izuku was born, and we’ve kept in touch ever since.”

Tsukauchi tapped his chin with his pen for a few moments, his expression deeply focussed. Then he looked Inko straight in the eye.

“You are being… unexpectedly forthcoming about all this, if I may.”

Inko let out a deep sigh. “I was never under the impression that we could escape the consequences of Hisashi’s actions forever. As soon as Izuku was born, I decided that I would never subject myself or my son to undue duresses just to keep my husband’s secrets. I told Hisashi as much as well.”

Toshinori had to stifle another wet cough with his handkerchief. How on earth was this woman still alive? 

“And he had no qualms about this declaration?”

“No. It rather amused him, actually. He said that any mother worth her salt would put her offspring’s safety above that of their parents. And… something about natural selection and survival of the fittest…” Inko’s eyes flickered upwards briefly, like those of a very normal wife exasperated by the very normal idiosyncrasies of her very normal husband. “He does go off on such tangents.”

“So you aren’t concerned about any possible retaliations on your husband’s part because of your cooperation with us?”

“Oh!” Her eyes went wide, almost shocked by the mere suggestion. “Oh no, I really don’t think he’d be capable of something like that.”

Oh, how very wrong she was. Toshinori frowned, admittedly perturbed by the level of trust All For One had managed to establish within the family without ever even deigning to step in their household. Precautions would have to be taken to protect the Midoriyas from the tragic fate that usually befell all those who were deemed traitors by the Symbol of Fear.

More and more questions followed. With his habitual thoroughness, Tsukauchi pursued a multitude of topics and leads that hadn’t even occurred to Toshinori, at least not so readily. Timing and means of communications, occasional postal deliveries to and from the family, details about the sums of money regularly deposited in the family’s account, and so forth. Toshinori was rather out of his depth here, but he tried his best to help Tsukauchi sort through the reams of documents, receipts, records, and diverse paperwork Inko produced at the detective’s request. By the time Tsukauchi declared to be satisfied with his preliminary inquiries, he had earned himself two plastic bags bursting with evidence, and Toshinori had developed a burgeoning migraine.

As they finally made their way to the entrance, Toshinori glanced at the door to Midoriya’s bedroom. Amidst that cascade of new revelations, they’d barely touched upon the topic of the villain attack and of Midoriya’s quirk with his mother. Toshinori felt genuinely sorry for the difficult conversations that were sure to follow between those two.

He hadn’t realized how late it’d gotten until he stepped outside the Midoriyas’ apartment. Sunset had come and gone, and the lampposts and the bright squares of the neighbors’ windows were the only sources of light in the moonless night of that unassuming residential area. As the door closed behind his back, squeezing into nothingness the rectangular glow framing him and Tsukauchi, Toshinori felt the darkness weigh on his shoulders and seep in his bones almost physically. 

He felt, suddenly, extremely tired.

“I’ll drive you home.” Tsukauchi’s wasn’t an offer, so Toshinori didn’t refuse.

“Thank you.”

They walked to the car as his friend made a couple of quick calls to instruct some agents to watch the house until the next morning. The fresh night air would have felt like a small bliss to Toshinori on any other day, but in that moment it only rattled whatever unpleasant manifestation of his unease had lodged itself in his lung earlier that afternoon and hadn’t left since. He coughed a few times in his fist, then a few more on purpose to make sure he got most of the discomfort in his throat out of his system before he settled in the passenger’s seat.

The drive was quiet. Toshinori gazed absently out of the window, letting the new awareness sink in his mind like a stone in a pond. All For One was alive. All For One was still alive, somehow. Toshinori couldn’t fathom how. They had never retrieved the body, that was true, but there was precious little they had managed to retrieve from the location of their fight back then. It was nothing short of a miracle they’d found Toshinori himself quickly enough to lend medical assistance. The only reason why they’d been able to keep the public from learning of the accident was because it hadn’t happened on the mainland, and the tiny, uninhabited island that hosted it had all but been wiped from the maps. That his foe may have survived that disaster, considering the damage he’d sustained, was almost inconceivable. Toshinori was pretty sure he’d actually caught a glimpse of the man’s exposed brain after landing the last-

“Are you all right?” Tsukauchi asked quietly.

The corner of Toshinori’s mouth twitched upwards. “I’m never going to defy New Year’s fortunes again. Moving away from Tokyo was a terrible idea.”

“This is a good thing. If you hadn’t, All For One would still be out there, and we’d be none the wiser.”

Hell. Five years. For five years they’d been none the wiser. How much strength had All For One regained in five years, while Toshinori’s own slowly went down the drain? How much of his criminal network had he managed to rebuild? How many unnoticed, unreported atrocities had he been plotting and executing, unbeknownst to all? The mere notion made Toshinori’s skin crawl.

But Tsukauchi had the right idea, there was no point in brooding over the current situation. Things could have turned out a lot worse. If Toshinori had already chosen a successor and exhausted One For All’s embers, by now he’d be powerless and useless, and the burden of facing his revived nemesis would have fallen entirely on the new, inexperienced wielder. That truly would have been a worst-case scenario. But as things stood, he could still rely on his quirk for a decent amount of time. He could still tie this dreadful loose end himself before passing the torch, and he’d spare no effort in the endeavor. He’d pursue the monster to the ends of the Earth if he had to, even if it meant wearing himself down to nothing for the rest of his life.

Or meeting his gruesome, bitter end in the process.

Toshinori shivered.

“So,” he heard himself say, “where do we go from here?”

Tsukauchi gave him a stern, silent scrutiny, then he told him.

[dinosaurtsukki]

❀ delusions | “but i thought--” “yeah, you thought” feat. tsukishima kei

⇢ day 11 of angstcember

⇢ synopsis: tsukishima kei knows he isn’t the most affectionate boyfriend out there and tries to make it up in some ways. at the same time, he struggles with how you really think of him

⇢ a/n: something short and angsty with a similar vibe to the sakusa fic. i hope you guys enjoy it !!

⇢ pairing: tsukishima kei x f!reader

⇢ word count: 2k words

ANGSTCEMBER MASTERLIST (feat. haikyuu!! and bungou stray dogs)

��━━━━━━━✿ ━━━━━━━━

“would you like to go out with me?”

at first, you thought it was a joke and entirely believed that it was, knowing that it was coming from the mouth of tsukishima kei. you would have laughed if it weren’t for the fact that you actually liked him and moments before you were about to get mad at him, you noticed the faint blush on his cheeks and the way his gaze flickered to the side as if he was embarrassed. then, it hit you. 

tsukishima wasn’t joking.

it felt like a dream come true. you never thought that things could get better than the two of you being seatmates in class and forever working on projects as partners. the nights of the week when the two of you would stay up late cramming in the library were the ones you looked forward to. he was amazing to work with because of his smarts and an even more enjoyable conversation partner. turns out, tsukishima was pining over you the same way were over him. 

“look, you don’t have to if you don’t want--”

“sure,” you interrupted him quickly, clapping a hand over your mouth when you realized you spoke too loud and had now attracted the attention of everyone else studying at the library. tsukishima snickered at the look on your face before poking your forehead with a long index finger.

“there’s this movie i think you’ll like because it has mindless but cool action scenes. how’s friday sound?” he asked.

“friday... friday sounds great,” you nodded and smiled at him, trying to hold back your excitement. 

after your friday classes, you immediately dashed over to your dorm room to shower and get ready. it was your first date with tsukishima, your first day with anyone actually, and you just knew you had to look your best. you’ve never really dressed up for somebody but when you twirled in front of the mirror in a new dress that you bought, you couldn’t help but look forward to the rest of your night.

while walking to the theater, you kept wondering if tsukishima would like how you looked, or even noticed that you put in a lot more thought than usual. “sorry i’m late,” you apologized, walking up to where he was.

tsukishima blinked at your outfit as you chewed your lip in slight anticipation. was he going to like it? was he going to notice? 

“you look good,” was all he said, again with that faint blush on his cheeks and his gaze drifting to the side. you felt warmth spread from your chest to your face, making you reach out to take his hand in yours.

“shall we go then?” you smiled.

...

“sorry i’m late,” your boyfriend sighed, sliding into the seat in front of you at the cafe. “our boss still hasn’t gotten rid of the idea that interns doesn’t necessarily mean coffee deliverers, contrary to what is shown on the movies.”

“i see,” you chuckled, forcing a smile as tsukishima squinted at the menu over the cashier. “don’t worry, i already ordered for you. the usual.”

“oh, thanks,” tsukishima nodded distractedly as he took out his phone and scrolled through it. you felt awkward, looking around the cafe at anything else except him. 

after a year of dating, tsukishima had gotten an internship at a nearby museum working on exhibit displays. you were ecstatic at hearing the news, knowing that it was something that tsukishima really wanted to do. however, because of his work, you ended up seeing him less and less. it was something unavoidable and you were fine with it at first but, as time moved on, you began to suspect that tsukishima wasn’t just away because of work.

most of the time, you weren’t even sure why tsukishima was still dating you. after all, he was tall, handsome, smart, and cool, any girl would want to date him. and tsukishima could have any girl he wanted. ‘y/n, we talked about this,’ he said, when you brought up how he was too nice to a fellow female classmate he ended up being partnered with for a project. ‘if you’re feeling insecure you can just talk to me about it. don’t just assume things that aren’t true,’ was what he said, but you couldn’t help but think that he was dodging the issue you were trying to bring up. 

“i’m just going to ask about something, alright?” tsukishima said before standing up and walking over to the counter. as he talked to the girl manning the cash register, you couldn’t help but notice how she was obviously enamored with your boyfriend. tsukishima did have that effect on people.

“so?” you asked when he came back to the table. “what were you talking about?”

“just asking about the coffee,” tsukishima shrugged. it bothered you how hard it was to read his thoughts. “anyway, how was your day?”

“oh, just the usual,” you shrugged a shoulder. 

“okay, something’s wrong,” tsukishima sighed. “you can just spill it instead of sitting there and sighing for the rest of the day.”

“if you put it that way, i’d rather just not talk about it then,” you shot back. 

“fine, then don’t,” tsukishima murmured, pulling out his phone again. when your food finally came, you picked at it disinterestedly with your appetite gone. 

...

tsukishima knew that there was something wrong with your relationship and he was desperately trying to fix it. ‘well, not trying hard enough,’ he told himself as he dropped you off again at your dorm with a half-hearted peck on your cheek. as much as he wanted to have a nice date after a long day at work, when he noticed what you were thinking about, tsukishima just couldn’t help but snap at you.

he was well aware of how you’d look at and compare yourself to other girls that tsukishima was with and it did hurt him a bit that you’d think so little of yourself. why couldn’t you see how different you were from them and how much he liked that you were you? at the same time, he didn’t like how quick you’d assume that he would leave you or be in a secret relationship with someone else. 

ever since tsukishima took the internship at the museum, he felt as if things had gotten worse too. the fact that his fellow interns were girls too didn’t make it any better. most of the time, he’d ask you to wait outside instead of fetch him because he knew it was going to make you jealous if you saw him having genuine conversations with his fellow interns.

it was a problem that he hated having to deal with, but tsukishima always ended up remembering how happy you two were in those first few months of dating and how he wished he could just return to those times. maybe, maybe somehow he could fix things. 

which was why after receiving your text asking if you wanted to go on a study date at a library, tsukishima jumped at the opportunity. ‘will be a bit late but i’ll be right there,’ he texted in reply. he knew you hated it when he was late but maybe if you saw why, you’d forgive him.

after practically running out the door when his class ended, tsukishima stopped by the cafe you two had gone too just a few days ago. back then, he had asked the girl at the register if it was possible to request for a specific kind of latte art. tsukishima was slightly embarrassed when she made the quick deduction that he was planning to give something to his girlfriend. however, he was pleased to find that he could make a request.

it took some time and tsukishima anxiously checked his watch often while waiting but after a while, he was walking towards the library with two coffees in his hand and a paper bag with your favorite muffin. it was meant to be a little throwback to when you two weren’t dating yet and studied often at the library. one of the things you two bonded over was eating food in secret while hiding behind textbooks.

tsukishima was eager to see the smile on your face when you saw what he had brought. only, as he climbed the steps to the library, he was met with you standing in front with your arms crossed.

...

“where were you?”

“look, i was at work and then i passed by the cafe because i thought you would like some coffee,” tsukishima sighed. “now, can we please go inside? it’s freezing out here.”

“well, why did i see you at the cafe before your shift ended?” you asked.

“because i was let out ear-- wait, you were at the cafe?” tsukishima looked at you in disbelief. “why didn’t you come see me?”

“didn’t want to interrupt whatever appointment you were having there,” you clenched your jaw. when you decided to stop over at the cafe for something to eat and saw your boyfriend there at the counter, it felt as if all your suspicions had been confirmed. now, there was nothing left but satisfaction with the knowledge that you caught him in the act.

“y/n, you have to stop it with this whole jealousy thing,” your boyfriend shook his head at you. “i know it’s easy to feel inferior to other people, i get that.”

“i don’t know. i mean, you’re that kind of guy,” you huffed. “you can just go right ahead and get anyone you want.”

“‘that kind of guy,’“ tsukishima echoed. “is that really how you see me?”

“look, tsukishima. i just want the truth,” you sighed. 

“alright then,” tsukishima let out a sarcastic chuckle. with one hand, he uncovered the top of one of the coffee cups before shoving it in your direction. it was a latte, your favorite one with the condensed milk, judging by the smell, and drawn on the milk foam was a heart.

“tsukishima...” your eyes widened when you realized the situation you had put him in. “but i thought...”

“yeah, you thought,” he scoffed. suddenly, his eyes were hard and the pang of regret that you had felt plunged deeper into your chest. “y/n, i’ve had enough.”

you bit your lip. “but... it was just a mistake.”

“it’s not just that. it’s the fact that you don’t trust me enough. i keep second-guessing how i should do things and i don’t want to do that anymore.” tsukishima looked at the ground, refusing to meet your eyes. “i’m done. that’s it.”

...

tsukishima didn’t think he’d be the type of person who was quick to fall for someone, but he realized after meeting you that he was very wrong in that respect. there was just something about you -- from your adorable small habits to the fact that you caught on to his jokes real quick -- that made it so easy for tsukishima to love your late nights at the library.

he’d never been in a relationship before, neither did he think he’d seek to get into one so soon. tsukishima knew a lot of things could go wrong, but for some reason, while the two of you took turns guarding each other while eating crackers in the library, he felt that maybe the risks were worth it.

which is why he decided to ask you out, and to his complete surprise, you said yes.

on your first date, tsukishima immediately recognized that the dress you bought was new and something in his chest fluttered when he realized that you had probably purchased and worn it for this occasion. ‘does it mean... she cares for me this much?’ he thought, eyes trailing over you as you apologized for being late.

“you look good,” was all he managed to say, even though tsukishima wished he could have said more. and when you smiled and took his hand, he knew then and there that falling for you would be worth it.

“shall we go then?”

━━━━━━━━✿ ━━━━━━━━

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