#in my defense by following me u sign up for me being annoying

[woolydemon]

everyone appreciates the return of the queue right

[domjaehyun]

i was afraid sending this ask cause i didn’t want u to take it the wrong way which u clearly did, i’m sorry i really didn’t mean it in a bad way or to annoy you, and also wasn’t insinuating anything by it. i just know that A LOT of people may not see the difference btn roughhousing & signs of abuse so i was just stating that

again sorry if i offended you in any way, you’re actually one of my favorite authors on here and i send u all the time. have a good day 💗

☹️

oh… well in that case i apologize for the testy response :( it v much did come off as passive aggressively policing me and i don’t take well to that (i don’t think anyone would though) so . i’m sorry for snapping at you ☹️ i’m glad you sent the follow up ask though, like, i really appreciate your clarification bc . ngl the first message rly did rub me the wrong way 😭 AND I’M SORRY FOR TELLING YOU TO UNCLENCH YOU WERE JUST LOOKING OUT FOR ME….. i apologize sincerely, i’ve had a lot of people be rude to me in the past so it makes me a little defensive when i get asks i can’t exactly discern the tone of … i hope you accept my apology… bc i accept yours 🫂 pls don’t hate me 💖 and pls keep sending me asks i do enjoy reading my asks and answering them (except, again, ones where i feel i’m being told what to do)

[unagrancantidaddepanes]

OK SO I HAVE RE WRITTEN THE LONELY MOUNTAIN EPISODE GYHUIYUDTUGUHHYTFYUGH

NO BECAUSE IVE JUST REALISED. THEY COULD HAVE EASILY MADE MOOMINTROLLS CHARACTER AT LEAST LESS OF A FUCKING CLOWN IN THE LONEY MOUNTAIN EPISODE BY JUST. HAVING SNUFKIN INVITE HIM TO GO SOUTH IN WINTER. INSTEAD OF MOOMINTROLL GOING OUT TO FOLLOW HIM.

like surely this would make sense for both of their characters if done right

snufkin could be all like oh well i didnt see him for fucking ages during and after november siuhufsighishu ig maybe he could come with me?????? i am gay and miss him anyways lol???????? but hes like at least kinda hesitant about it so it makes sense when he wants to be away from him later.

WAIT I HAVE JUST HAD THE GREATEST IDEA

what if WHAT IF instead of the plot being that moomintroll acts like an absolute BAFFOON while staying with snufkin during the winter WHAT IF HIS HIBERNATION STARTS TO KICK IN AND SNUFKINS LIKE HOLY FUCKING SHIT GET OFF THIS MOUNTAIN GO BACK HOME AND SLEEP????????????? the fact that he wants to be alone could also be a reason so OKOK SO IMAGINE THIS RIGHT YES THE PLOT:

- moomintroll is invited (slightly hestitantly) by snufkin to stay with him during winter - he is very excited in the beginning so u can see clearly how his energy gets completely drained by the end - same with snufkin because he wants to be alone - over the course of the episode snufkin sees that not hibernating is KICKING IN (moomintroll yawning all the time, maybe fidgeting alot idk, just generally showing signs of being tired ect, ect) - moomintroll tries to hide it by covering his yawns as coughs ect ect - instert shot of snufkin blank staring at moomintroll after fake coughing and moomintroll awkuardly laughing it off and saying some shit like “haha cave dust am i right?” - feels pretty in character tbh fgyuydTFUTYRY - ITS MORE IN CHARACTER THAN HIM BEING A FUCKING CLOWN THATS FOR SURE - ok i will except ONE moment of moomintroll being kinda annoying to snufkin in someway AS LONG AS HE ISNT STRAIGHT UP ACTING LIKE A CLOWN to show clearly that hes starting to really not want him here and to be alone again - JUST ONE AS LONG AS ITS NOT PAINFUL TO WATCH - at some point snufkin starts hinting to him like UHHH MAYBE GO AND HIBERNATE???? comments and shit like “your bed would be more comfortable than my tent” ect ect and moomintroll brushing it off every time like “haha its fine mama made me bring extra blankets”  - que the snufkin blank stare in moomintrolls direction bUT SLIGHTLY MORE WORRIED THIS TIME LIKE DAMN IS HE EVEN GOING TO WAKE UP AGAIN AFTER HE GOES TO SLEEP - moomintroll starts rambling about something and after more of the previous bullet point snufkin suddenly cuts him off with a more explicit HEY MAYBE YOU SHOULD GO HIBERNATE - moomintroll starts getting defensive aND THIS IS WHERE THEIR FIGHT CAN HAPPEN - BUT WAY LESS OF MOOMINTROLL BEING A CLOWN TO SNUFKIN AND WAY MORE OF HIM BEING A CLOWN TO HIMSELF - moomintroll then gets VERY defensive and starts saying shit like “im not a child who needs to go to bed early” (to tie into his previous arcs of wanting to be taken seriously and to be more independent ect BECAUSE IN THE REAL EPISODE ALL THE PREVIOUS ARCS WERE THROWN OUT THE WINDOW IG YGYUFTYDTGY) - because moomintroll starts getting defensive and angry snufkin then starts lashing out about being with moomintroll and generally just him being frustrated because he wants to be alone  - here we can essentially just copy and paste the rest of the original fight - “right then, i know where im not wanted” - “im sorry moomintroll but its called the lonley mountains for a reason” (also insert a comment about him needing to hibernate here) - yeah literally just copy and paste until snufkin runs after him and moomintrolls already left - except moomintroll looks more tired during the fight (maybe dragging his feet a bit as he leaves, ect) but like not so tired that he wouldnt able to lash out/be angry with him - also snufkin IMMEDIATLY going to try to stop him right after their fight makes a lot more sense because obviously not only does he regret shutting him out and lashing out at him (like in the original episode) but hes also like OH FUCK HE JUST LEFT TO BE COMPLETLY ON HIS OWN PROBABLY BARLEY CONCIOUS AND JUST BEFORE A STORM STARTS - it also makes more sense when he hears one (1) shout from moomintroll AND STARTS DRAMATICALLY GOING AFTER HIM because its no longer oh we had one (1) fight and he might be in danger from the storm NO ITS NOW OH GOD HE MIGHT BE IN DANGER FROM THE STORM AND IS PROBABLY BARLEY CONCIOUS ANYWAY - yes we keep wildly gay scene where snufkins all like “i do miss you too yknow i think about you all the time- I MEAN-” - yknow because the original episode conflict is still there just WAY LESS OF MOOMINTROLL BEING A BAFFOON AND MORE OF SNUFKIN BEING WORRIED ABOUT HIM (but also still wanting to be alone like in the actual episode) - when moominmama and moominpapa come to take him home theyre like DAMN u need to FUCKING HIBERNATE HOLY SHIT - that could also be why the left to find him in the first place (like maybe they remembered once when another moomin or one of them tried to not hibernate for that long) and theyre like OH SHIT IS HE GOING TO FALL ASLEEP ON A MOUNTAIN - back when moomintroll and snufkin had just gotten to the mountain it could cut to a scene in moominhouse where moominmama makes a comment like “ive never known a moomin to not hibernate for so long” (he didnt hibernate the last winter if i remember right (maybe this storyline hasnt happened in moominvalley 2019 idk) and he also didnt hibernate for half the winter before that (in episode 1)) and moominpapa makes a comment like “ah i remember when i was a young moomintroll and didnt hibernate for a year. when next winter came around i fell asleep at dinner on the kitchen table and didnt wake up until the spring.” and moominmama just has a moment of well that would have been more useful to know before we sent him climbing up a mountain- - yea i dont actually know why they go to find him in the original episode i havent seen the whole thing just clips tygutydfugudrtf - anyways its basically the same moomintroll and snufkin say their goodbyes and moomintroll goes back home with his parents - personally i think the last scene in the actual episode was real looking at all the dialogue before and during it and just everything that happens but here it can just be one of his funki moomintroll hallucinations (because yknow HE WAS BARELY CONCIOUS i dont think snufkin would stop him hibernating to invite him back) maybe it can be made more clear that moomintrolls not really there (for example in the last shot where moomintroll and snufkin are in the foreground looking at the northen lights there could just be empty space where moomin would be sitting)  - yes the end moomintroll leaving to go back home is more of a mutal agreement which is benifical to both sides and can give both of them more delicious character development or something idk

PLEASE I SPENT 2 HOURS WRITING THIS HOW AM I MAKING SO MANY LONG TUMBLR POSTS I DID NOT KNOW I HAD THE DEDICATION TO DO THIS KIND OF SHIT BUT HERE WE ARE TYGUUTYRYTUGYDTFYGH

ive never re written an episode of anything before so idk if this sound more of less like a fanfic than the original???? bUT MOOMINTROLLS NO LONGER BEING A CLOWN TO SNUFKIN SO THATS GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME YGYUFTYRTFYUTYTSRDYTFTRDYTF

@syrene04​ I DID NOT MEAN FOR THIS TO HAPPEN BUT YES HERE IS THE ENTIRETY OF LONELY MOUNTAIN RE WRITTEN TFGYFTYDRTFYGUFYRDF-

[ushittyoldman]

sweetheart like you

request.  hiii welcome! my brain is empty rn but some spike fics would be so amazing! i’ll probably be back when i have an idea but for now maybe just some first kiss with Spike and up until then they had just been flirting:)

pairing. spike x fem!reader

warning. language, mentions of s ex, & just a whole bunch of fluff

a/n. my first spike request eeeeee here u go anon! i hope u like it, it’s still taking me a while 2 pin down his characterization so i kinda just went w how i thought he’d b in a situation like this. nevertheless, i hope u like it thank u 4 this cute asf request (fun fact! spike always reminded me of bob dylan bc of his hair so this title came from a bob dylan song) 

"Found him,” you mumbled discreetly into your ear piece, your sunglasses sliding slightly down your nose.

“Attagirl,” you heard Spike’s smooth drawl through the ear piece, and you attempted to conceal the slight smile that had made its way to your face.

“Careful, Spike, looks like I’m doing your job for you,” you teased, still keeping a watchful eye on the slimy suspect who happened to hold a handsome bounty on his head.

“Can’t really complain when you look so much better doing it.”

“Just fuck already so I don’t have to hear this everyday!” Faye snapped, and this time you couldn’t help the soft blush that colored your cheeks. You tightened your jacket around yourself, attempting to alleviate some of the embarrassment you felt.

“It’s not like that—”

“You know you’re always welcome to join us, Faye,” Spike retaliated, and this time you couldn’t hold back your giggle. Had you turned around, you wouldn’t have missed Spike’s smile widening upon hearing the musical sound.

“I’d rather die.” Faye deadpanned, and you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t laugh too loudly due to the delicate position you were currently in.

“One day... just one day of peace and quiet. You think that’s a lot to ask for, Ein?” 

Silence followed Jet’s tired question, and you realized you’d have to once again step up and apologize on behalf of you three. You softly mumbled into the earpiece, “Sorry, Jet, remind me to buy you a new bonsai tree to make it up to you!”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he enthusiastically said your name. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an absolute sweetheart?”

“Once or twice.”

Before anyone could respond, movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention. The man you had been tailing had stood up from his seat on the couch, paying the stripper who had clung to him for the majority of the hour. You began to subtly gather your things and pay for your drink at the bar, preparing to follow him out of the club.

“He’s on the move,” you angled your head to your left, eyes searching for familiar brown eyes, “I’m gonna follow him.”

Once your eyes met Spike’s, an understanding passed between you two. He had been sitting on one of the couches towards the back of the dimly-lit room. His long legs were spread as his arm was casually draped over the top of the couch, and a cigarette loosely hung from his lips. His long hair was pulled back slightly, since it was styled to mimic the type of men who frequented the club, and you smiled at the memory of you and Faye attempting to tame his hair in the bathroom right before you three departed on the mission. Though he was attempting to pass off as a regular civilian enjoying the strip show, there was something about Spike that made him stand out from the rest of the crowd. Realizing you had probably spent an abnormal amount of time admiring him, you met his eyes again and decided to ignore the look of blatant amusement that so clearly danced within them.

You simply nodded once and you silently applauded yourself on being able to catch the subtle nod he gave you in response in the dimly-lit room. His lips quirked up slightly, and you somehow felt more reassured in your ability to pursue the criminal.

Gulping down the last of your drink just for that liquid confidence, you delicately placed the payment on the table, and adjusted your top as you followed the man out the door. As you left the strip club, you noticed the shadow of the man’s trench coat as he leisurely walked towards the darker side of the already extremely shady town. You inhaled sharply before wrapping your own coat around yourself tighter. Suddenly, the man took a sharp left turn into a narrow dark alleyway between two buildings with impossibly bright neon signs.

“He went down an alley— that’s gotta be a dead-end. It’s almost too easy!”

Spike quickly yelled out your name, an odd edge to his words. “No! We’re sticking to the plan.”

“But I can—”

“Spike’s right, it’s too risky,” Faye interrupted evenly, though her tone showcased her own concern at your irrational thinking.

Deciding to prove them wrong, you furrowed your eyebrows and tightened your grip on the concealed gun. You let out a soft exhale, your breath visible in the frosty night. You immediately turned the corner, prepared to take the man by surprise, yet you stilled in shock when you were suddenly slammed against the brick wall. You could faintly hear your sunglasses clatter on the ground. You saw stars the moment your head hit the wall, and you were almost positive you were dealing with a concussion. You internally grimaced at the earful you’d undoubtedly be receiving from Spike, Jet, and Faye.

“What do you think you’re doing, you sneaky little bitc— ooh,” he mockingly cooed, “You’re pretty.”

“Oh, for the love of—” you heard Spike groan in your earpiece, most likely realizing you deliberately disobeyed the plan.

The man’s rough hands began playing with your hair, and you tried your best not to cringe at the feeling. Briefly, you conceded that Faye and Jet may have been right when they voiced their concerns over you working alongside the bounty hunters on this mission. You were the Bebop’s resident medic, and you had an alarming lack of experience with guns and self-defense in general. The two facts paired with your intense hatred of harming people, and you were most definitely the least qualified person to be on this mission.

Momentarily, you wondered why you even pushed so hard to join your friends and leave the safety of the Bebop. You suddenly thought of Spike. Spike with his lazy smile, as he encouraged you to join them. Spike and his untamable hair as he taught you how to use a gun. Spike and his warm hands as he softly caressed your cheek the first and only time you had managed to take him down in your self-defense classes.

You groaned internally as the realization hit you harder than the concussion.

Stupid Spike.

Deciding not to succumb to death just as yet, you abruptly realized there was a technique that Spike had taught you for this very occasion. You groggily tried to remember the technique, and you urged yourself to remember quicker when the man began to trail his hands down your body. Belatedly, you realized your coat was now on the ground, drenched in the wet snow, and the unforgiving cold air was nipping at your exposed arms and legs.

“Gonna take you on a ride, girly,” he wickedly mumbled in your ear, and you tried your best not to flinch.

Through the cloudy haze of your brain, you managed to mimic Spike’s exact movements as you replayed the memory of his lean body demonstrating what to do. Lifting your knee to kick the suspect in his groin, you cringed as he let out a yell of pain. He bent over, and you took advantage of his momentary distraction by lifting yourself up and gracefully (you’d like to think) wrapping your thighs around his head, letting out a quiet grunt as you used all of your weight to flip the two of you over and onto the cold pavement. You shakily landed on your feet, but you heard a sickening crunch as the man’s face was the first to make contact with the concrete. The guilt almost bubbled to the surface, but you decided he was one of the few who deserved what he got.

You let out a quick huff as your ample chest heaved up and down with every breath. You could feel that your hair was a tousled mess, and your skirt had ridden up considerably. 

“Holy shit.” 

You looked up quickly and belatedly realized Spike had been standing there, casually leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He had a small smile on his face, though there was also an uncharacteristic red tint to his angular face.

“Spike?” you breathed out. Despite his relaxed expression, you were momentarily worried that he would be annoyed with you not following the plan.

“Quite the little badass, aren’t you?” he responded, no heat and all fondness.

You took a step towards him, though you swayed slightly. You grimaced at the idea of your bare knees hitting pavement, but more so at the fact that you’d be embarrassing yourself in front of Spike. Your confusion grew when you realized that you were suddenly gently lifted in someone’s arms. Perplexed, you looked up and made eye contact with warm brown ones.

When did he catch me? you silently thought to yourself, and you figured the concussion was a lot more serious than you had previously thought.

“You with me?” Spike softly mumbled your name, and you noticed the concern clouding his eyes. You suddenly realized how close your faces were.

“Concussion,” you quickly responded and you internally slapped yourself at the stupid response, “I, uh. I have one.”

Spike’s face broke out into his typical shit-eating grin, and you felt yourself lighten at the familiar expression.

“You’re cute,” he casually spoke. Spike’s smile widened at the pretty blush that had colored your cheeks.

Just then, a particularly relentless gust of cold air blew through the ally, and you unknowingly shivered. You boldly cradled yourself further into Spike’s broad chest, and his smile dropped upon remembering your current situation.

“Faye,” he snapped into the earpiece as he angled his face slightly away from you, “thank you for taking your sweet time.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, jackass. I’m almost there.”

Your shivering worsened, as the cold air nipped at your exposed arms, legs, midriff, and cleavage. Softly shifting your body so that you were comfortably held up with his one arm, Spike quickly pulled off his jacket with his free arm, and moved you so that he could hold you with his other arm as he completely took off his jacket. You hadn’t noticed, mainly due to the softness of his almost imperceptible actions, and so you were completely surprised when you suddenly felt a warm blanket cover your entire body.

Your eyes snapped open when you realized that it smelled way too good to be a blanket. You looked down at the familiar navy blue jacket that dwarfed your entire body, and you looked up into amused brown eyes. 

His yellow shirt was casually rolled up at the sleeves, and the button-up was tightly fitted across his lean yet muscular figure. His arms flexed underneath your weight, and you relished in the feeling of his warm arms caressing the bare skin of your own legs and arms as he held you bridal style in the dark alley. Your stomach erupted into butterflies as the weight and intimacy of the situation set in. You were brought out of your thoughts when you realized he had caught you subtly checking him out again.

“Stop laughing at me,” you huffed as a wayward strand of your silky hair landed on your forehead.

“Why would I be laughing at you, pretty girl?” he mumbled, a smile dancing on his lips.

His lips.

They were so close to your own, and you were once again filled with the insatiable urge to kiss him. You blinked quickly at the thought. Your concussion must have been doing a real number on you.

Your internal confliction grew stronger with each passing second. A large, large part of you wanted to close the distance between you two and finally kiss Spike, consequences be damned. But the small, louder part of you was terrified. You were terrified of rejection, of your insecurities coming to light, of being just another meaningless fling to Spike. Your thoughts grew cloudier, and you were overtaken with the sudden urge to sleep.

Your eyes grew heavy, and your head began to loll against his broad chest. Noticing this, Spike’s smile dropped once again and he began to silently curse Faye and her damned time management skills. He hurriedly mumbled your name, his distress clearly evident in his deep voice.

“C’mon now don’t go falling asleep with a concussion,” he teased, and some of his worry for you was quelled when he heard your quiet, breathy laughter in response, “Careful, doc, looks like I’m doing your job for you.”

Your smile widened upon his teasing remark, mocking your words from earlier, and you rolled your eyes in response. “Smartass.”

“Never said otherwise.”

Once again, his lips were just the right distance from your own, and you felt an instant surge of confidence. You swallowed, and squashed every single worry and fear you had, reasoning that this was Spike, your Spike, and he wouldn’t hurt you. 

“There is... there is one thing you can do to help the concussion,” you shyly said, your cheeks burning brighter than the red neon sign that loomed over you two.

Spike’s eyes widened and his face turned serious and desperate as he nodded. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

Butterflies erupted once again upon noticing how prepared he was to help you, and you smiled up in pure adoration at the tall man. Your eyes quickly darted to his lips then back up to those enchanting eyes. 

“You have to come closer.”

Spike blinked once. A second time. And then he smiled softly at you. Understanding flashed in his eyes, and you swore his cheeks held the faintest of blushes. He leaned in closer. 

“This close?” he knowingly teased, an encouraging lilt to his soft tone.

“Closer.” 

You swore you could feel your heart in your throat as it sporadically beat faster the closer he came. His face was now right in front of yours, and you nervously swallowed. You licked your lips, and he looked down at them, mesmerized with the action.

“How’s this?” he smiled up at you, his usual playful smile on his handsome face.

“Spike,” you half moaned and half whined, frustrated with having him so close, yet not being able to finally get what you want.

His breath hitched at the sweet sound of you moaning his name, and he couldn’t help it before he leaned in slowly and met your soft lips. You closed your eyes and relished in the ecstatic feeling. The kiss itself wasn’t very long, yet everything about it was already burned into your brain. Your lips molded against his for a few more seconds before you softly pulled away and let out a dreamy sigh.

Your nerves attempted to get the better of you, yet you surprisingly felt reassured in your feelings for Spike. You silently looked up at him, but he was already looking down at you with nothing but warmth and fondness on his face. He softly reached down and tucked the wayward strand of hair behind your ear, before softly caressing your cheek. You leaned your face into his warm palm as you closed your eyes once more, and he felt his heart ache sweetly.

“You really should get concussions more often,” Spike cheekily said.

“Shut up,” you responded as you closed your eyes again to nuzzle your face into his chest. There was no heat in your response, and Spike couldn’t help but silently admire you. 

He moved closer to you and gently kissed your forehead before straightening himself up. He tucked you closer into his chest and tightened his jacket around your figure.

Somehow, you weren’t as cold anymore.

“About damn time.”

Your eyes opened, and you mustered up as bright a smile as you could at your friend. 

“Faye!”

An unamused expression donned Spike’s face, and he turned around to pointedly glare at Faye. “I could say the same thing to you. What, you saw a mirror on your way here?”

Faye had restrained the suspect at this point, her heeled shoes digging into his back as a way to alleviate the anger she felt at the man for what he did to you. She looked up and genuinely smiled at Spike, adjusting her coat. 

“Jab all you want, Spike, but thanks to you, I won the little bet I had going on with Jet!”

Faye’s amusement grew when she saw your smile drop and Spike’s glare turn into a lofty smile almost simultaneously. You looked up at Spike, yet you flinched at the sudden movement, as the pounding in your head worsened. Concern washed over Spike, yet you shook your head in reassurance, before continuing. 

“Spike— the earpiece!”

“You just had to make a move now,” Spike mockingly chided, though you knew he wasn’t as bothered as you were.

“Concussion!” you reminded him, and he cooed at the pout you gave him as his gaze softened.

You gulped before guiltily mumbling Jet’s name. “…Jet?”

“Two bonsai trees, you hear me? You owe me two bonsai trees now.”

[loth-wolffe]

Congrats on the 100 Followers !!!!!Soo i saw the Song Lyrics Prompts and ... well duh i would deffo request my all time fave Crosshair and no 14 ! And you know.. Fluffy smut it is all good when it comes to the ones we love :D

HI! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! AND THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS !!!!

Pairing: Crosshair x reader (no y/n)

Warnings: okay so I knOW YOU ASKED FOR SMUT BUT. I didn't remember and I just got this very cute ficlet and completely forgot everything else and this came out being a whole different thing. bUT. i will make it up to you and write another version of this prompt for u. I'm so sorry really. i hope you like this tho.

So no warnings. it's a bit angsty, too, heh.

Prompt: 14. I know that you're scared because hearts get broken. - Golden by Harry Styles

Word count: 900

Saying that love is easy is an understatement, really.

It's hard, and harsh, and merciless. It's unknown and also familiar, because you have experiences to compare it too, from your parents to your friends to your past lovers.

Love is scary, because it's uncharted territory, no matter how much you've read about it, if you've seen it, if you have felt it before. Because every new person that comes, brings new challenges, something you haven't felt before. It brings chaos, too.

It paralyzes you, it had never happened before and it does now, when the sniper even looks your way, you freeze completely. Your breathing stops, for just a second, and your face flushes, and you feel embarrassed and dumb.

It makes you shy away, from conversations that might lead you somewhere else, with him. You have no problem talking with his brothers, or talking with him when around his brothers, but he had approached you once or twice alone and you had babbled and stuttered enough to make you scurry away whenever you have the chance.

But love, mostly, when there's even a single sign, a fleeting chance you might be falling again, makes you protect yourself, it makes you defensive, building walls taller and thicker than what they used to be, shielding yourself with steel doors and a million locks wrapping around chains.

Love is frightening, sure, because it might leave you broken. It can leave you in pieces, destroy you to the very core. It leaves you falling, hard and fast and you can't hold onto anything, onto anyone, and you hit the floor, and you're left there, bleeding out, with just you to stitch yourself up, alone, tired and hurt.

So you do nothing, and wait for it to pass. He'd leave, eventually, to some mission that takes him months to come back, if he ever does, and boy, you might even think he does just to annoy you.

Because he comes back every time, his body carries him with a confidence you sometimes envy, and it always leads him back to you.

It's a knock on the door that pulls you out of your thoughts. He's there, leaning on the frame as if he reigned the space, a king coming so casually to see his people.

"Yes?" You ask, because he doesn't say anything and you don't know what else you could say.

And he enters, as if the cramped office was his, and it's not the first time he's been there, but there is no reason for him to sit in the chair in front.

Your breath hitches when he leans over.

"I have a question," it's all he lets go, his voice sends shivers down your spine and you wonder if he knows what he does to you.

He must, because otherwise he wouldn't be there.

His eyes follow your movements, from the way you turn your datapan off to how you lean back against the back of the chair. The corners of his lips turn upwards just the slightest.

"Alright." You close your eyes a moment to kick yourself mentally, you don't have to be so awkward, you think, but then again, you don't know how not to be awkward around him. "Shoot."

"Would you consider going out with me?"

There's a silence, because with him you always let silences make their way between the two of you. With widened eyes and pated lips, you stare at him, searching for an indication that he might be joking, but his face betrays nothing, so you ask,

"Going out with you?" just to confirm.

He nods, once, a small frown on his face as he takes a paperwork that has been sitting for too long on your desk, disinterested in its contents as his eyes go back to yours.

"As in, a date." Your heart skips a beat and you take in the possibilities, and among all of them where you say yes, you see yourself getting your heart broken.

You shake your head,

"I don't know." You admit, because you really don't.

He shrugs.

"I won't break your heart if that's what you're worried about." His tone is like he's talking about the weather and your eyes snap at him, only to find his amber orbs already searching for yours. "Tech told me that's why you wouldn't speak to me."

You should've known better than to confide Tech such secret.

Crosshair looks at you, really looks at you, as if he could see your soul, grab your heart and hold it tight, kiss it better and patch it's bruises.

"I won't let it break, as long as you don't let mine break either."

And it's such a vulnerable thing to say, you think, to open yourself to someone enough to let them know you feel scared too.

Maybe it's a path you can both walk, a mutual arrangement you can take, holding his hand as you go down.

"Yeah," your voice is a whisper, one that cuts the silence and reaches him softly, the words holding him as he falls and you hope he is there when you fall, too, "sure, I'll go out with you," you say, and he smiles, the action making the butterflies you've been kept caged for so long flutter wildly in your stomach, "as in, a date."

You want to trust him. You'll have to trust him.

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 7)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Speed of Sound

Next Chapter: Red Strings of Fate

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

Double Update today, because these two chapters go hand in hand. It didn't feel right to upload one without the other.

Chapter 7: Bird of Flame

You faced Todo off in a clearing. Everyone else was at the far side watching. “Just run away if it gets too much.” You worriedly said to Miwa and Mai pushing them back.

“It’s okay, I’ll hold off any attacks.” Noritoshi assured you. You beamed up at him, “Thanks senpai.”

“Someone’s being awfully friendly today.” Momo half coughed and half murmured out. Noritoshi just gave her the side eye.

As per your style of fighting, you stayed still if you did not know of your opponent’s cursed technique.

“I won’t immobilise you this time since we are sparring.” You called out to Todo. “Fine with me!”

You could hold out your protective space warping around you for several hours. You just had to make sure it was activated in the space around you.

Todo didn’t hesitate to start off with punches and kicks. Nothing moved you of course. 5 minutes passed with him getting nowhere. Is that all he has?

You narrowed your eyes, but lifted a hand to push him back into a tree. You manipulated its branches such that they were all pointing to him. He was about to hit them until he clapped his hands and suddenly, you were there.

Your eyes widened, barely having time to brace yourself as you guarded for impact. You hit the branches hard. “Shit.” Looks like you might have to use your extended techniques against him.

He was in front of you in a split second and you quickly moved to dodge. You tried to maneuver your way around him, but it was hard to pinpoint the exact origin of the hits as he kept swapping your positions before landing a hit.

Sometimes, when you brace for a hit, he doesn’t swap your positions. How annoying!!! Of course your spacial barrier is still active and taking the hits for you, but it does have its limits.

Moving at mach speed in a short distant range won’t help you too much as it’s better for transport rather than combat.

You breathed out low and slow, before channeling your concentration into your 6th sense. Spatial awareness. Faster and faster, you started bracing for his hits and pushing him back.

And when he was unprepared you lashed out with your hidden twin blade only for him to dodge it. You can’t deny that the 2nd year's have more experience than you in battle. And Todo's specialty is obviously close combat.

You had both blades out now quickly slashing at him dangerously. He avoids it and the slashes cut all the way to the trees behind him.

You gave in, sheathing your blades and turning around to recuperate but he was faster as he finally caught you by the arm. “I got you!”

You grinned. Who got who?

With one hand, you straightened 4 fingers out towards Todo and folded your thumb into your palm. “Extension cursed technique, focus range: Niflheim”. Your applied cursed technique slows down the movement of molecules in an enclosed area, forcing items to freeze.

A layer of ice covered Todo’s entire body. The branches that binded around him were also covered with ice, stretching behind him in an ice pillar.

You quickly released your hand from his hold and slowly breathed to the sky, releasing an icy smokey breath. You turned around with a slow smile. “Checkmate”

He struggled against the ice but, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. That is way under 0 degrees celsius. You might lose a limb or 2 Todo senpai.”

He sighed, “I g-g-guh-give!” He could barely utter the words as his teeth chattered. You gently focused on raising the temperature, melting the ice off of Todo first. You couldn’t do it too fast or else he would combust.

As soon as he was free you reached out and applied your reversed cursed technique on him, healing the cold in his body. “Thank you so much for the match! It’s been a while since I felt that much fun in battle!” You excitedly said.

“Good game. As expected of my little sister, you’re very strong.” Todo patted your head. You stared, “Excuse me, whose little sister??”

“You should have buried him y/n!” Momo exclaimed. “Hear hear.” Mai chanted. Mechamaru just said, “I almost got buried by her once. She should have done the same with him.” You just laughed, “It’s okay, I’m satisfied with this.”

You turned to Noritoshi and he walked up to you and Todo went back. At this distance, the others couldn’t hear your conversation. “That was incredible.” He had a very proud smile on his face. “I hope you take our fight seriously as well. That’s all I ask of you.” He whispered.

“Of course I will senpai. But like with Todo senpai, I won’t use immobilisation techniques so we can spar properly okay?”

“Okay” he patted your shoulder and gave it a small squeeze before moving backwards. ‘Kamo clan, blood manipulation. They can manipulate their blood freely.’ you thought to yourself.

Your eyes zeroed in on his bow and arrows. The smell of blood was always on him, but you bet he had blood on those arrows. “Begin!”

He launched arrows at you only for you to stop them. Projectiles were the worst thing he could do. You frowned as you turned the arrows on him and sent them back. He dodged and shot more.

What on earth? This was so ineffective against yo-

He suddenly came from the side and punched you. Diversionary tactics dummy, you didn’t think about it.

You got pushed back from the force but stood your ground. He was insanely fast for a human. He is currently faster than Todo and any of the male cousins whom you’ve fought with.

It was a jarring experience. “Flowing Red Scale” He moved backwards, one eye wide open with a red blood x mark on it.

Your brain went into overdrive in a hurry to connect the dots while you defended against him. Blood. Red blood cells. Oxygen. He’s increasing his physical abilities.

You quickly lashed out with a double kick only for him to bring out a blood bag. “Blood manipulation: Crimson binding”. Blood strands wrapped around you and caged you in.

But you froze them and easily broke it in the process. You hurried to try and bring him down with mixed martial arts, not wanting to hurt him too much.

Sparring with him actually felt like a dance. You dodged and had an instinct as to where the next move would come from, and he was the same. Barely any hits landed on each other for a while.

Ah right, you promised to go hard on him. You put two hands out in a V shape, with palms facing him. Noritoshi’s eyes widened at the familiar hand signs. It’s the very first one you showed him.

“Tatsumaki” A huge horizontal cyclone hit him and forced him back. “Enhanced Gravity: Output level 4%”

“Aarghhh” Noritoshi groaned as he was forced to the ground. You didn’t notice his hands moving.

“Convergence! Piercing blood” a sudden fast stream of blood shot out and grazed your cheek. It would have been worse had you not moved your head aside. Noritoshi’s eyes widened as blood poured from the wound.

You quickly made tree branches hold his hands apart and forced him back onto the ground. You pointed both your twin blades at his head. “I give!”

You released your technique and knelt down. “Are you oka-”

“Are you okay? I hit your face!” He exclaimed in worry, hand hovering just over your cheek. You stared at him in amusement. “It’s a serious matter!!” he insisted.

You covered your face with one hand, then wiped off the blood to reveal a flawless cheek. He gaped, “Reverse cursed technique. I see. Good fight” He wheezed out.

"You actually hit through my defenses in battle. That was amazing Noritoshi senpai." You whispered in amazement. There was something different about the blood he manipulated.

His bond to it was far stronger than your hold over his blood. So if you tried manipulating his blood, it's a low chance that you could get it to attack him.

You can manipulate anything and everything, even at molecular levels to some extent. But you can't produce what's not there. There seems to be a limit to your manipulation over certain items.

"I still lost. Thank you for the match." He said.

You held his hand for the first time as you pulled him up, when suddenly a searing pain hit the inside of your wrist.

"Ouch!" You exclaimed while Noritoshi winced as well. You both pulled back your sleeves to see a large bird surrounded by flames just below the inner wrist on your right hand. Noritoshi had the exact same symbol, but it was in the inner wrist on his left hand.

You quickly pulled over both your sleeves to cover the markings, “Just say we both got wounds, let’s keep this a secret.” You pulled back and acted on purpose, “Good fight. You almost got me there.”

He naturally followed your lead, but there was a brightness to his eyes that told of something else. “.... Yeah you got me. I’ll do my best to catch up to you next time we spar.”

“What happened?” Utahime ran towards the both of you upon seeing you both flinch forward. “No, Utahime sensei we just got some scrapes that stung badly, nothing too bad.”

“I see. I have a first aid kit on hand, feel free to use it if you need to.” She said, and pushed you two back to where everyone else was.

You both stayed at the back watching the other students ask to spar with each other. Noritoshi quietly tugged at your sleeve, hidden from view with his own large and wide sleeves.

You tugged back twice on his sleeve and grabbed his hand to squeeze it. His hands were rough and calloused from fighting, but also had a tenderness and warmth from the way they tried to hold onto yours.

Both your marks flashed with heat when your hands touched. Noritoshi turned to you with all the world's curiosity in his face.

But you pulled back and put some distance between the two of you so it wouldn't look too obvious. "That binding technique that you did earlier was cool. Is it possible for you to manipulate the blood even after I freeze it solid?" You asked to try and divert the attention.

"Actually I haven't tried yet. But I should be able to as the main composition is still my blood." He admitted.

The remaining time left on the field was spent mostly on the others working on their cursed techniques against each other, and with you engaging in tactical discussion with the other students.

You all bid each other goodbye and went your separate ways. Except… Noritoshi mouthed "library" after he waved you off.

You lifted your eyebrows silently in agreement and walked back with the rest of the 1st year's.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[mizunetzu]

I just skipped school and binge read all of your fanfics- They’re really good gRRRRrrr 🥺🥺 Keep up the good work!! That being said- Can I request a fluffy Hawks x male reader where the reader has a cold and is stuck in bed and Hawks takes care of him? Thank you vv much!!!

HAHHAHA WHY IS ALL MY HAWKS REQUESTS ALWAYS FLUFF (I mean ur like my second one but it’s still flufF) (and not that this wasn’t fun to write cuz it was HAAHA I’m lowkey proud)

(Also gRRRRur so nice but GO TO SCHOOL >:( BARK BARKK BAEKR)

——————

Hawks x reader - The Sick Fic

⚠️warnings - it’s as the title says. It’s the sick fic.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

(Y/n) coughed up sticky red blood.

“Y-yeah, no. I don’t think I can patrol today, Yusha-san. The villain from yesterday activated their quirk on me-and I’m feeling a bit sick.”

Yusha, the secretary to the (L/n) hero agency, typed something down on his computer. “Is it something we should be concerned about?”

“No.” (Y/n) croaked out with a chuckle. “Their quirk isn’t really dangerous, but it did make me a bit sick. It’ll pass, don’t worry.”

“Ok. I’ll send in one of your sidekicks to patrol with Hawks-san today.” More typing from across the phone. (Y/n) pursed his lips.

“U-uh,”

“Don’t worry. I’m sending a male sidekick.” Yusha practically read his mind. (Y/n) didn’t want any stupid girls hitting on his stupid, popular, pro-hero patrol buddy boyfriend.

“Thank you, Yusha-san.”

“It’s nothing. Get some rest, (H/n). We expect you to show up tomorrow.” Yusha ended up before (Y/n) could even say goodbye. He lazily dropped his phone onto his bedside table, burying himself under his bedsheets as best as he could. Just as he was getting comfy, the urge to cough up more blood kicked him in the stomach.

He flung himself over his bed, practically shoving his head into the small waste bin under his bedside table. He wiped his mouth with his forearm after hacking up more blood, his head suddenly feeling hazy and jumbled.

He groaned, and got under the bedsheets once more. The world seemed to be against him today, as another distraction forced him out from his beauty sleep.

His phone buzzed once. Twice. Then the annoying, overlapping ring of multiple messages being spammed buzzed out his phone, making (Y/n) cover his ears with his pillow.

Annoyed, he patted around the side table til’ his hand landed on his phone, pulling it towards him and under the sheets.

‘Keigo 🍗 - where r u :(‘

‘Keigo 🍗 - who’s this...rando dude patrolling wit me :(((‘

‘Keigo 🍗 - r u asleep or smth’

‘Keigo 🍗 - wake up ur late to patrol and I need my yakitori addiction funded today’

‘Keigo 🍗 - DUDE’

‘Keigo 🍗 - BBBBBBBBBB’

‘Keigo 🍗 - IM NOT GONNA STOP SPAMMING U TILL U ANSWER ME OR SHOW UP AN PATROL WITH ME >:(((‘

(Y/n) sighed. He opened the messages, meaning that Keigo would get the ‘message read’ notification, but he couldn’t care less. Tossing the phone lazily on the table, he muted the messages app.

———

(Y/n) stirred in his sleep when he heard tapping on his bedroom window. (Y/n) opened his sticky eyes, barely open enough to see a blurry red object tapping against the glass frame. Eventually, the object halted, gave up, and swooped down and out of sight. He shrugged.

Just as he closed his eyes, more pelting came from the window, this time louder and heavier. (Y/n) snapped his eyes open, flinging himself out of bed, and getting ready to activate his quirk.

He visibly relaxed when he saw the huge red wings tapping outside the window, with a certain hero crouching down, looking at him sheepishly and trying to pick open the window lock. The man waved with an embarrassed smile, his feathers following suit.

“Keigo Takami. What the fuck are you doing in my house.”

The man, Keigo Takami, chuckled awkwardly while (y/n) undid the clasps on his window. He stepped back, allowing him to worm his way in through the small window.

Keigo paused, half way squeezed in with his wings stuck in the cramped window frame. He was stuck. “Y...you need to buy a bigger window-“

“Are you dumb?” (Y/n) chuckled, the sight of Pro Hero Hawks, man who could pull absolute pussy, bent over his bedroom window, stuck with his wings awkwardly fluttering in place. “Just, I don’t know, send your feathers off until they’re small enough to fit you in.”

Keigo had a wave of realization. This man had no braincells whatsoever. “...oh, haha, you’re so smart~”

One by one, feathers jutted out from his back, each floating either inside (Y/n’s) room or outside the window. Once all of them were off, and his back were relatively empty, he tumbled ever-so-gracefully inside the room. He stood up, his wings rebuilding themselves in seconds, and did an awful curtsy.

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all day to take care of my sick patrol partner who do happens to be my boyfriend,”

“Speaking of patrol -what happened to patrol? A-and the dude you should be patrolling with? You should be out by n-“

A sharp, piercing pain shot through (Y/n’s) head. Now that the adrenaline from Hawks pounding on his window was subsiding, he seemed to remember how much his head was hurting.

He fumbled down, catching himself on the foot of his bed while Keigo lurched forward. “You good?” He mumbled, taking off his black wool glove.

He rested the back of his palm on (Y/n’s) forehead, before signing uncontently and replacing his hand with his lips. Even if he was burning up, (Y/n) froze.

After a while, Keigo drew his head back. “You’re burning up...”

Silence. Hawks awkwardly chuckled and played it off by running his hand through his hair.

“Lips are more sensitive than hands are-so I was just...you need to get to bed!” Keigo quickly stood up, gently ushering the sick hero to his bed. Pulling up the thick-set covers, Keigo hazily tosses his jacket to the corner and discarded his other glove.

“Try and get some rest. Did that dude’s quirk from yesterday do this?” He got a nod in response. “Alright. I’m gonna go change and get you some shit.”

With that and a warm smile, Keigo disappeared through the bedroom door. (Y/n) followed him with his eyes, right before he was out of sight, then let his eyes droop close.

———

“Pssst.”

A finger poked at (Y/n’s) cheek. He grumbled, furrowing his brows and keeping his eyes screwed shut. He heard a sigh from somewhere above him.

Something feathery tickled him from underneath his nose. He scrunched his nose up, expecting the odd feeling to go away, before feeling a sneeze build up. The watery feeling course through his nose before his head shot up every-so-slightly to let out a weak “Achoo!”

Keigo snickered. (Y/n) finally opened his eyes. Keigo was sitting beside him, now in casual clothes, holding a convince store bag and a red feather. The feather flew out of his hand and stuck itself on his back.

“Sorry I was out for so long. You didn’t have jack shit in your house, so I bought some medicine and takeout since I know you won’t eat soup and I can’t cook.”

It was true. The only thing Pro Hero Hawks is allowed to do is heat up a hotdog, and even then he might break the microwave. And (Y/n) won’t eat soup he made if his life depended on it. If he can’t even turn on the stove, what makes you think that he’d drink a whole bowl of soup made by him and not die?

“Whad’ja get?” (Y/n’s) voice came out more gravely and deep than he expected. Under different circumstances, that would’ve been kinda hot. Keigo pulled out things one by one from the bag.

“Ok so, I got painkillers, a cooling pack, a heating pad just in case your stomach starts hurting, a thermometer, and I found these cool matching red bird keychains and I bought them on impulse. One for you and one for me~ I also bought 2 beef bowls”

Keigo layed all the items down either on the bed or on the table beside it, holding up the keychains last. Shaking them around a bit, turns out there was a small bell inside both of them. (Y/n) tried, and failed, to hide his growing smile.

Keigo placed the cooling pack on (Y/n’s) previously burning forehead. The sudden coldness forced an involuntary groan from the bed sick male. He chuckled.

“Sorry. Deal with that for awhile and I’ll feed you~” Hawks saddled up in the spot next to him, holding the two plastic bowls and worming his way underneath the covers. He placed the food down on his lap and switched on the tv.

They sat in silence, the only thing being the sounds of the tv filling the room with the occasional reaction or snicker from the two. Keigo alternated between shoveling a forkful of rice and beef into his mouth, then feeding his boyfriend and carefully making sure none spilled onto his bed. The news reporter droned on onscreen, their voice being tuned out by the two hero’s.

“By the way, Keigo,” (Y/n) started, once he swallowed his food. Keigo gave a hum of acknowledgment, holding up a finger to (y/n), then to his mouth until he finished chewing. Thickly swallowing, Keigo hummed again.

“You were supposed to patrol today. With one of my sidekicks. What happened to that?”

Keigo looked at (Y/n), before looking back at the tv so causally. For a while he said nothing, until he opened his mouth.

“I ditched.”

(Y/n) made a sputtering noise. His shock turned into a long string of hacks and coughs, which Keigo waited ever-so-patiently for him to calm down from. “You ditched?! Keigo, you’re the no. 2 hero! You can’t be caught ditching!”

“Relaaaaax,” Keigo leaned farther into the bed cushions. “I told my agency and your stupid sidekick man that I was gonna check on you. It was a valid excuse.”

“Still!” (Y/n) rubbed at his temples. Hawks shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth. “You’re sitting here watching tv with me instead of working!”

“I needed a break. Plus,” Keigo held up his unfinished bowl of food defensively.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I love you too~”

(Y/n) sighed.

“I hope you get sick.” Hawks chuckled, saying something about being immune to all sicknesses.

Needless to say, (y/n) was patrolling with one of Keigos sidekicks the next day.

——————

[tadpole-san]

are we still friends? ;  d.g. part two pairing: titans!dick grayson x reader, on-and-off relationship warnings: dick being his therapy-needing titans self, slight canon divergence from titans 1x06, and an ending that may or may not lead to a part two a/n: i will never let go of my personal dick grayson grudge, but this exists solely because i love @capricorn-stark

The last time you had seen Dick Grayson, he’d outfitted himself with packed belongings and a one-way ticket to Detroit, Michigan. Seeing him off at the airport would turn out to be the last time you saw him for a year - a fact you hadn’t picked up on at the time, but did, in fact, predict. To a degree.

“You could come visit,” he’d offered, just steps away from his gate. “You - well, you said you had plans to go to Chicago, right? The drive’s not too bad.” It was hard to say no.

Because this was Dick Grayson, and he had to be so earnest about everything he did. Even when it was asking you to come see him as he was moving hundreds of miles away from Gotham (hundreds of miles away from you, a part of your mind whispered, even as you reminded yourself that this didn’t have anything to do with you so much as it had to do with his fractured relationship with Bruce). Because he was trying to make things work.

“How are you able to be friends with your exes?” you’d asked, bemused and flabbergasted all at once. It wasn’t the first time. “I really try to hate you, you know.” That got him to laugh - which was nice. You felt as though you hadn’t really smiled in a long time.

“Maybe that’s my superpower.”

“Your superpower is super annoying,” you’d deadpanned, before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you around, Grayson.”

An empty promise neither of you acknowledged.

After that, it was all too easy to fall out of touch with Dick - one too many missed calls, excuses of taking more shifts at his police station when you were more than capable of keeping up with the news that spoke of a vigilant Robin without its bat, until eventually, total radio silence. And you were happy to leave it at that, knowing that whatever Dick was working through, he’d clearly rather do it on his own.

So when even the Robin sightings in Detroit stopped entirely, you didn’t push things. Maybe he’d finally done it: give up the costume for good, leave the life behind like he said he would do, but never actually committed to.

This was probably a sign. That you need to go see him, like you said you would do, but never committed to.

Which means that the last thing you expect, on your morning coffee run in Chicago, was to quite literally run into the man of the hour himself.

“Dick?” The word comes in a way that is akin to a strangled duck squawking.  You wonder if the man before you is real - if you’re not just imagining the figure that stands before you, cuts and bruises littering his face. As if he’s been in a fight.

With his track record, there probably was a fight. With him, there’s always the fight.

“Sup?” Dick’s not the one who answers you first. It’s the kid standing at his side, walking with a swagger that speaks volumes to the confidence of a kid who’s filling out the big boy shoes with his own ego. You try not to judge too much - there’s always a story behind a stance like his. “Jason Todd, at your service.”

A train passes on the overhead, the sound drawing you out of your thoughts. You realize his hand is still offered to you, and you shake it, still staring at Dick. He’s tense, shoulders drawn, hunched in on himself and bracing for a fight.

Something’s up. And with the Boy Wonder, it’s always something big, and possibly earth-shattering. Inwardly, you sigh. On the outside, you smile wryly and introduce yourself to Jason.

“You probably know who I am,” you say, letting go of Jason’s hand and stepping back. Your grip on your bag tightens. “Dick’s a big storyteller, once you get him going.” Dick verbally steps in before Jason can say anything to either confirm or deny your words.

“I could use your help.”

He doesn’t say we.

“I can see that,” you deadpan, motioning to his face. Your hand stops shy of actually touching the bruise blossoming against tanned skin. “A personal favor, then?” He turns his head away from you, and you spot the (quite frankly) atrocious brown car parked on the curb.

“That’s my ride.” He’s defensive, and you get the feeling that it isn’t about the car. You raise your hand in surrender, but he doesn’t relax - in a way, it’s nice to know that you’re probably not the reason he looks ready to pull a Flash and run as soon as the chance to do so opened up for him.

“You’re parked in front of my ride,” you reply, reaching into your bag and pulling the keys out. You let them twirl around your finger as you turn and walk towards your car, looking over your shoulder at him. “Am I going to need to make a stop at home to get the old suit out?” Somehow, that actually brings a smile to Dick’s face, and he ducks his head slightly as he chuckles.

“I just need you,” he calls out, finally pulling a hand out of his pockets and raising it in your direction to let you see the phone in his palm that’s open to your texts with him. There’s a new one that is likely the address of whatever safehouse he was holed up in.

You try not to linger on his words for too long.

“They’re hot,” you hear Jason say. It’s followed immediately by a yelp - presumably from Dick either elbowing him or punching his arm - and a “you’re way too young for that.” Despite yourself, you grin.

You’d missed him. Even if you weren’t going to admit it to his face.

When you finally make it to the address Dick sends you, he’s not even the one who lets you pass Bruce’s more-than-extensive security system. It’s Jason who does that.

Instead, you find Dick bent over the bathroom sink, the blade of a scalpel pressed to the skin of his arm. There’s also an unconscious body cuffed to the shower behind him, but you compartmentalize that for later.

“Are you okay?” At the sound of your voice, DIck freezes - like a deer caught in headlights - and looks up at you. You can see him visibly relax as he lets out a sigh that works to relieve some of the tension wound up in his body. You raise an eyebrow, and walk over to him.

“It’s not what you think,” he tells you, then uses the scalpel to motion towards the device discarded on the white porcelain. You pick it up, turning it over in your hands. “Bruce planted a tracker, in me, and I’m trying to-”

“Cut him out?” you finish, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Cut it out,” he corrects.

“I know what I said.” You watch through the mirror’s reflection as he finally makes the incision, thick red blood pouring down his arm and dripping into the sink. You’re already opening the cabinet to find gauze to wrap his arm with. “Let me see that-” The ringtone coming from the phone between you two cuts you off. You look at him. And then you look down at the screen. The name Kori flashes across it.

“New girlfriend?” you dare to ask, meeting his eyes in the mirror. Dick purses his lips, swiping a bloody thumb over the screen to deny the call before he’s reaching for the tweezers.

“No,” He grits his teeth, maneuvering the metal tweezers in the wound he made. “We just met,” Dick adds, meeting your eyes again. For his sake, you offer a tentative smile. He sighs, and finally retracts a tracker that resembles a battery watch. It falls into your open hand. You’re glad for the distraction, because - shit.

Those eyes.

Dick possesses what you swear is the most beautiful shade of eyes you’ve ever seen, and he models them beautifully. Those baby blues were always going to be your downfall, and seeing them had been enough for you to call in a precious sick day at work so you could help him out on whatever case brings him to Chicago. They’re the reason you have a case in your car trunk containing a suit you swore to leave in the closet.

They make you realize you can be so weak.

“I’m not dating right now,” Dick continues, filling in the space of your prolonged silence. He doesn’t take the gauze from your hand - even though he could - and instead, holds his arm out towards you so you can wrap it yourself. “Actually, I haven’t really seen anyone since I was with you.”

“I think that says less about what our relationship was, and more about you going full lone-wolf.” You hesitate to finish, and you keep a loose grip on his arm. His skin is warm. “The more you try to be the anti-Bruce, the more you’re becoming like him. You know that, right?” He’s not looking you in the eye anymore. Anger isn’t what drives him to do that, you think - it’s more like a combination of guilt, of the expression of a kid who thinks he’s a disappointment to the people leaning on him. People shouldn’t lean on a kid.

“I’m working on it.”

“I know.” Finally, you set the roll of gauze aside and release his arm. It allows you to take the chance to reach for him and make him look at you again. “And thank you,” you add. “For coming to see me.” He manages another smile, reaching up to cover your hand in his. You know what he would do if you were still dating. He would’ve pressed a kiss to your hand, and he would laugh it off, probably with some sort of cheeky quip. A I knew you missed me too much or I’d come by to see you any day.

You’re not dating anymore. And it’s confusing as hell, because sometimes it feels like you still are. On the rare days that he still calls you for no reason to tell you about a case from work he’s stuck on, or to remind you that you made a promise to see him, pairing it with a good tease about how seeing him in the new uniform would probably be too much for you. On those nights, Robin isn’t flying solo on the streets of Detroit.

“The lead brought me to Chicago,” he explains, tilting his head in the direction of the man lying in the shower.

“Is it a work case?”

“Not exactly. It’s-” you anticipate the familiar complicated. The word doesn’t come. “There’s a lot I need to update you on,” he settles on saying instead, running stained hands under the sink. “And if it’s Chicago, you’re going to be my number one. Right?”

“Right,” you agree, traces of amusement seeping into your tone as you cross your arms. “I called in sick at work,” you add. “Am I going to need to make up an excuse for the rest of the week?” The question, lighthearted as it’s supposed to be, holds weight to it that neither of you acknowledge.

“I’m probably going to be out of the state in a couple of days,” Dick says instead of answering, drying his hands off with a towel. He lets it drop in the sink, walking back out in the hallway with you. “You don’t need to - it’s a lot. And there’s these guys I’m kind of traveling with-”

“Dick.”

When he faces you, it’s your turn to shove hands in your pockets to avoid wringing them out in front of him. You take a deep breath, leaning back on your heels to look at him. “You didn’t need to find me,” you tell him. “That Jason kid? He wouldn’t be sticking around if he couldn’t be decent backup for this.”

“Are you detective-ing me out right now?” Dick’s actually trying not to laugh. You’re not sure if you should hit him or not.

“That’s not a word!”

“You know what I mean! And yes! I’m trying to figure out what’s going on with you!” By now, he’s actually laughing - and even if a part of you is annoyed, sure, there’s more of you that just feels relief. Because you can’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that, either, and it gives you a bit of hope.

Hope that the parts of him you fell in love with aren’t as lost as you thought.

“There’s a lot,” he admits, shifting his weight and trying to step back so he isn’t crowding you in the hall. “I know - the Bruce thing, you’re sick of that bullshit. I got a lot going on.” His phone starts up again, and this time, he pulls it out. The fluorescent light washes out his skin, but you can see his expression sober up. ���I need to take this.” The traces of laughter in his voice are gone, and it feels like he’s slipping away again. There’s frustration that must show on your face, because he reaches out to you and moves a stray lock of hair out of your eyes in a silent apology.

“Go.” You manage not to sound as bitter as you feel - and with him, it’s not a bitterness that’s always there, but it inevitably creeps up on you. The same way the shadow of a bat hangs over him. Dick nods, and you start to walk away when he grabs your wrist again.

“You aren’t my backup for this,” he says firmly, and you know you’re fucked. Because he’s looking at you with those eyes, and it’s like you’re in that airport with him all over again, with nothing but empty promises and a broken relationship the two of you are hanging onto by a thread. “You’re-” he falters. He hesitates, and you’re ready to watch Dick Grayson walk away from you again.

“You’re everything.”

DC Taglist:

@cipheress-to-k-pop

[zenonaa]

'The conglomerate taught him a dozen languages and how to play as many instruments. They trained him to operate multiple types of aircrafts, earn billions of dollars and not bat an eyelid as a rival company begged for mercy... However, when it came to developing feelings, that was treated in the same way as stabbing a fork into a plug socket, or offering to wash the dishes instead of letting the servants attend to them. It was common sense not to do those things.'

Fandom: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Fukawa Touko, Togami Byakuya, Naegi Makoto Additional Tags: Togafuka Week Summary: Togami tries to prepare himself for his reunion with Fukawa.

Comments: Day 3 for TogaFuka Week! Fantasy/Kiss.

💗 Please like, share and comment if you enjoyed it! 💗

***

As the helicopter soars above the city, Byakuya visualises skyscrapers reaching toward the sky as if wanting to claim the blue expanse for itself, like that’s its God-given right. The buildings wouldn’t look out of place in a boss battle in a light gun video game. Makoto once compared them to the final level in an old zombie shooter that he played a few times at his local arcade.

Byakuya imagines the futuristic city, teeming with electricity and life, but the image lingers only for a couple of seconds before rusting, wilting, collapsing. In reality, Towa City is an industrial wasteland. Its railroad halo dips and splinters throughout, as if made from thorns, and the ghost of a bullet train explodes into dust that rains down on the city. Buildings have been amputated, leaving only stumps if nothing at all. Squinting, he discerns a car park that is now a graveyard, with graves instead of cars.

They land the helicopter in the concrete clearing behind a rundown hotel, the loud wailing of the rotorcraft’s blades slowing into pops before falling silent. No red carpet awaits them. A staircase unfolds from the helicopter’s doorway to the scarred ground. The sky is a red lipstick stain that fades into purple like a bruise.

And a short distance away from Byakuya stands Touko Fukawa.

Touko bounds toward him. “Byakuya-sama!”

Yes, he thinks, she would still call him that. Her wild mane of aubergine hair writhes with every step. Meanwhile, he glides over. His feet make no sound.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she says, stopping in front of him. She breathes in, filling her lungs with air. He brings a finger to her lips.

“Let me speak first.” Byakuya can feel her lips vibrate as words bubble in her mouth. After he lifts his finger off, her mouth hangs ajar but she stays quiet. Now it’s his turn to inhale deeply. “We have been on quite a journey. Before we met, I held the weight of the conglomerate and all the pressures involved, while you...”

The light against her lenses flashes warningly as her brow dips into a furrow.

“... had, and still have, your own,” he finishes. His teeth scrape against his lips. “When I entrusted you with Towa City, do you remember what I said?”

“No matter the distance, I will not feel a thing,” she recites.

“That’s right. You must understand that my creation was a business investment.” He swishes a hand through the air, maintaining eye contact. “Romance goes against my existence. At that time, though I had started opening up to the idea of relying on others, and letting others rely on me... I was not interested in... in romance.”

Her silence provides a clear sky that his voice fills with grey clouds. He coughs into his knuckles.

“Part of me rejected the idea of romance... And yet, to my surprise, during our time apart, where we could only speak in video calls, my heart grew fonder for you.”

Touko’s puzzled squint blooms into a wide-eyed stare. Its intensity burns his cheeks. Still, she doesn’t say a word. What if after she had drawn close enough, without the gleam on the computer screen on his face, she realised he is as cold as a monitor? Is that what is happening now? Aoi sometimes remarked that Touko was too good for him, and when Aoi became annoyed enough with something he did or said, she would add that Touko deserved better.

He used to never doubt himself, but for the first time in his life, he wonders if he is good enough.

It feels like he has taken his first step somewhere damp and mouldy, where the floorboards could give way at any moment. Without moving, his stomach drops as if he’s already falling. Byakuya’s tongue squirms in his mouth, as if trying to reverse the words that it already unleashed, but he can’t take them back.

Instead of trying to articulate his feelings, he decides to demonstrate them to her. He grabs her waist. Her head jolts back in surprise and a moment later, their lips bump together. For several long seconds, they stand stiffly, Byakuya’s hands on her body, Touko’s hands cupping air, until he needs to peel himself away to breathe.

She gazes at him, brow wrinkled, not smiling. Then she opens her mouth and asks, “Are you okay, Togami-kun?”

The voice does not belong to her. Byakuya blinks, fracturing the concrete, the sky, her body, revealing his true surroundings. Opposite him sits Makoto, the two of them seated in a helicopter.

“You zoned out there for a good few minutes,” says Makoto.

Byakuya responds with a grimace.

To bat away the encroaching silence, Makoto chirps, “I can’t believe in an hour, we’ll finally be reunited with Komaru and Fukawa-san.”

In response, Byakuya gives a solitary hum. Makoto’s smile wanes.

“Are you motion sick?” he asks Byakuya.

“No,” Byakuya says more harshly than intended, the syllable cracking the still air like a whip and making Makoto tense. He flattens his tone and adds, “I’m in thought. That’s all.”

“About the reunion?”

Byakuya nods.

“It’ll be fine,” Makoto assures him with conviction that puts Byakuya on the defensive.

“What am I supposed to say to her?”

‘Her’ being Touko, of course. The conglomerate taught him a dozen languages and how to play as many instruments. They trained him to operate multiple types of aircrafts, earn billions of dollars and not bat an eyelid as a rival company begged for mercy. With the matter of future heirs, they instructed him on what to look out for on female applicants’ forms while choosing potential mothers. However, when it came to developing feelings, that was treated in the same way as stabbing a fork into a plug socket, or offering to wash the dishes instead of letting the servants attend to them. It was common sense not to do those things.

And yet here Byakuya was, spending the journey to Towa City mentally rehearsing how he was going to confess to a woman who had gained the power to make his heart swell too big for his chest. The conglomerate could not have prepared him for such a woman. Such an intelligent woman. Such an empathetic woman. Such a loyal woman.

Most of all, a woman who drew strength from what the conglomerate called weakness. Love.

“I mean... you can say hello?” suggests Makoto.

Byakuya’s steely gaze clenches Makoto. “Then what?”

“Like... ‘How are you?’”

“I can’t treat this like a regular meeting, as if we had only last seen each other at the end of work the previous day,” says Byakuya.

“Why not?”

“This one is different.”

As Makoto’s eyes flicker, he drinks in the tension in Byakuya’s shoulders, the tightness in his fists, and says, “Ah. I see.”

Though Makoto must have known for some time now. He and the others had started alluding to Byakuya’s feelings for Touko before Byakuya was even in denial about them, back when Byakuya didn’t know what he was experiencing, or what was making his stomach flutter.

Evening has dyed the sky orange, darkness creeping in at the edges. Byakuya stares at it through the window. His unsmiling reflection leaves a faint imprint on the glass. Silence swirls around them, hanging over their heads like the rotating blades of the helicopter.

“Are you going to tell her?” asks Makoto, and he doesn’t need to elaborate.

“I should,” Byakuya replies.

“You can try a pick-up line.” Without having to look at him, Byakuya can hear the grin seeping into Makoto’s tone. “For example... Do you like raisins? How would you feel about a date?”

Byakuya’s reflection glares as Makoto carries on.

“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together. Or - ”

“That’s enough,” Byakuya says with a shudder, raising a hand. “I aim for my demeanour to be calm and composed. I do not intend to act like a fool, throwing out hackneyed lines.”

“Sorry, sorry. But if you don’t mind me saying, you’re overthinking it, Togami-kun.”

This earns Makoto a look from Byakuya. The curve of Makoto’s lips is slimmer now, but still holding on.

“In these sorts of situations, it’s best not to use your brain...” Makoto taps himself on the head. “... but to follow your heart.” His hand shifts to his heart and pats there next.

Byakuya tightens his lips and returns his gaze to the window.

“Easy for you to say,” he mutters.

The helicopter lands by the hotel that Touko and Komaru have been living in. If not for the lit windows and neon sign, the dark column would have blended in with the night. Steel bars cage the building, mostly unbent. Byakuya’s attention fixes longest on the sign that flashes ‘TOWA HOTEL’, ‘TOWA HOTEL’, pulsing like his heartbeat, reminding him over and over where he is.

He balls his sweaty hands into fists. He can do this. ‘Follow your heart,’ Makoto had said, and his heart has been caged for so long. It’s time that he freed it.

As in his imagined scenarios, Touko runs over, her arms spread as if about to take. Byakuya tenses, for a moment thinking that he has to catch her before she flies away again.

Fortunately, she stops in front of him, her feet rooted to the ground. “Byakuya-sama!”

Byakuya swears he feels the spray of her spit, but it might just be his sweat. Makoto digs him gently in the ribs, quirks his lips, then walks toward Komaru. At no point does Touko’s eyes stray from Byakuya, who lifts his chin and adjusts his tie. Low laughter simmers in Touko’s mouth.

“I can finally smell you...” She hugs herself. “It has been so long.”

In the past, he would have told her to shut up after saying something like that, but that doesn’t seem appropriate now. Such a comment used to come across as vulgar, and maybe it still does, slightly, but he has grown accustomed to the vines that her existence has curled around him. His tongue feels thick in his mouth as he tries to think of a response.

“Well, I can smell you,” he says.

This prompts Touko to shrink back and worry her lip with her teeth. “D-Do I...? I showered earlier today. Argh, did Komaru swap my shampoo for dog p-?”

Touko cuts herself off with a groan and shakes her head. Byakuya reaches a hand toward her.

“I mean you smell good.” He immediately cringes. Good. He said, ‘good.’ Her brow creases, whether it be from confusion or from hearing such a lame adjective, and he adds quickly, “You smell like...”

Byakuya breathes in but finds himself unable to smell her, so he leans toward her so he can. She gasps. He straightens sharply.

Time ticks as Byakuya mentally flips through the scripts he had rehearsed on the helicopter.

“Romance goes against my existence,” he says.

No, wait. He hadn’t meant to say it like that.

“Went against,” he clarifies. “Remember when I said ‘No matter the distance, I will not feel a thing’?”

Touko nods slowly, frowning. His head fills with steam, rendering it practically useless, which leaves him one other organ to depend on. His heart.

“Do you like raisins?” he says. “I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together.”

Her troubled expression gives way to concern. “Byakuya-sama...?”

Byakuya lets out a frustrated groan and slaps himself on the forehead. “What I want to say is...”

She springs onto tiptoe and pecks his lips.

In that moment of contact, time stops. No more than a second could have passed, but by the time she returns her heels to the ground, he feels like he has been flung up into the sky before crashing back down again, his head spinning.

While he stands frozen, she wraps her arms around him.

“I understand,” she says muffled into his chest.

He hesitates, then hugs her back, and presses his lips against the top of her head. She smells like strawberries.

[caysophia]

Sam Guthrie x Reader(f)- New Girl (smut)

NSFW

(h/c)-hair color

(h/l)-hair length

(e/c)-eye color

Sam POV

I woke up to the same speaker wake up call I have heard for the past few years. I cupped my hands over the ears to muffle the sound of the speaker until it stopped.  I stood up and put on a grey shirt with a fannel and jacket ontop with my boots and hat. I walked out and went to the canteen to grab something quick to have before walking to the hangout room.

I walked in and Rahne and Danielle were sitting on the couch watching TV. I sat down in the chair beside and joined. That lasted for quite a while, Roberto entering and leaving the room multiple times. Illyana I guess stayed in her room for most of the morning. Only come in to grab a new crayon once in a while. I walked around the facility not wanting to be stuck in one room for too long. being in this cage was enough. I walked into the canteen and had a conversation with Roberto about random crap once in a while, and waited for the daily session. That's just pure bullshit.

Around 2 hours passed and we were called to the stupid session. It was the same as always. Why are you here and what is your mutation.

3rd pov

No one answered the questions like usual, just staying quiet. They looked around at each other to see if anyone would answer. no one did. The room stayed silent with Dr.Reyes asking more questions and trying to get them to answer. When the door opened to the room.

Sams POV

Dr.reyes asked us questions but no one budge. she tried for a few minutes before the door opened up, in walked a girl with (h/l/c) walked in, probably 5'5-5'6. She looked around waiting for someone to stay something. I forgot I was looking at her until she locked eyes with me and I looked away and slouched in a chair pulling my hair a little bit frontwards to hid my face.

Y/n POV

I walked into the room that dr.reyes told me to come to when I was ready to met everyone. I opened the door and the room got quiet. I looked around and observed the strangers in the room. 3 girls and 2 boys. two of the girls sitting very close to each other and a blonde sitting in between the 2 boys. I looked at the boy with that ruffed up hat, we locked eyes and he turned and slouched in his chair.

"This is Y/n. She's new." Dr. Reyes told the group before mentioning to the empty chair beside Hat boy. I scratched the back of my neck and sat down, he shifted his seat moving it more towards the blonde. "So, whos gonna talk. You know you won't be able to leave unless you corporate with the program." Dr.reyes stated, And the blonde laughed "this is a cage, not a program." she laughed looking at the dr "enough Illyana."

I looked at 'Illyana' and back at dr.reyes "why doesn't new girl tell us about herself." she laughed, dr.reyes glared at her.

"Why don't you introduce your self." she gestured to me, I gasped"Why don't you introduce your self." dr.reyes said, pointing her clipboard at me

"um, okay I guess." I cleared her throat and sat up " I'm Y/n L/n and u-um that's it. um, yeah." I stuttered out. Illyana laughed "what's your power?" I looked at her, Illyana started again "What is it, some little mind-reading?"

I tightened my jaw. Dr.reyed yelled at Illyana to stop.

I looked at her and smirked "I can cause things to combust in an instant." the room went silent, to the point you could hear a pin drop" And boil you alive from the inside out, so hot your flesh will melt off of your bones." I smirked. Illyana Stood up, her eyes a bright blue "That's enough!" Dr.reyes yelled and put up a force around her "To your guy's rooms, Now!" Pointing to me and Illyana. I laughed "what did I do?" dr.reyes looked at me "it's for your safety, and others."

Sams POV

Dr.Reyes walked the 2 out of the room because telling up we could leave. I stood up and fixed my hat, Roberto walked up to me " Well, then. Now we have two crazy women... fun." and he walked out. Rahne and Dani had left already following Reyes out the door.

I stood there in the room, thinking about what just happened before walking out. I walked around and went to the lounge to hang out and play fooseball with Roberto.

"You were staring at the new girl the whole time you know. You like her or something?" he laughed before moving the pole to hit the ball I hit into his court. I looked up at him "What?" I questioned. Roberto looked at me smirked "you know what I'm talking about. You couldn't take your eyes off of her. It's like you just spaced out watching her." he leaned closer towards me "someone likes crazy." he laughed, I glared at him.

"you don't know what you're talking about ." I glared "I don't like her, I haven't even talked to her." I laughed "yeah ok. Then why did you stare at her the whole time she entered the room and didn't take your eyes off of her ." he said with a teasing tone, I took a step back "I'm going." and with that, I left the room " Bye Hillbilly Starshine!" I heard Roberto laugh, I rolled my eyes and continued to walk.

'I don't like her, I don't even know her.' i thought to myself 'then again, I couldn't stop staring at her.' I walked around outside for a while before hooking my self up to the giant concert block and harness.

I looked over and say Rahne, Dani, and Y/n. Rahne started talking to her telling her about something, the last thing I saw was her looking directly at me. Smiling.

Y/n POV

I was able to be let out of my room after Rahne and Dani told Reyes they were showing me around. We walked around the facility looking around and making jokes. We walked outside and we stopped in front of a concert field.

Sam was hooking himself up with a harness and long thick chain to a faint concrete block. we locked eyes "And this is sam, he can generate energy and propel himself through the air." Rahne informed me about him. Sam finished hooking himself up and we locked eyes again, and he launched off. Spinning in circles. I jumped back." it seems like sometimes he just comes out here to hurt himself." Rahne frowned as I watched the man spin in circles not being able to say in a straight line. He hit the floor with a hard crash, I screamed and went running over to him. Rahne held me back. " I wouldn't do that." I looked at her "Why?! He just crashed into concrete!" and pulled away and ran to him.

I bent down on the ground and he opened his eyes and groaned  "I need I need to learn how to land." he mumbled completely ignoring me and stood up "hey! you just crashed into the ground you should take a break." I said reaching for his hand, he stared at me and pulled his hand away " This is normal, I don't need to rest yet. Stop it." Rahne ran over and grabbed my hand "Your still human, you're just gonna hurt your self more! Your arm is already broken and your all cut up!" I yelled and he stared at me and glared "why do you care?"

At that point, I don't know why that hurt so much, I looked down at the ground and pulled my hand out of Rahne's. And looked back at him "sorry, tough guy." and walked away. Leaving Dani and Rahne with sam.

3rd POV

Y/n walked away towards the main building. Sam cracked his knuckles" what's up with her?" he questioned confused "Your what's wrong!" Dani pointed at him "why are you being so stuck up? you normally the nice one. now you just being a jerk, and that's Illyanas job." Dani said as she walked closer to him, Rahne stood between the two

"hey we don't need to fight. But she is right Sam. You got defensive when Roberto asked you why you were staring at her during the group." Rahne confronted him. " Why does everyone keep saying that!" he yelled "I don't have a crush on her! I just met the girl, yeah she pretty and nice and caring, and str- No! stop it." sam blurted out and unhooked his harness and started to walk off, face red, and slightly annoyed.

Rahne and Dani being left in the dust again. Dani and Rahne looked at each other and laughed "someones got a crush." and they laughed and walked around outside some more.

A few days pasted, Sam still being shy and Agitated around Y/n or any questions about her. Y/n still wondering why she wanted to help him, worried she might have had just ruined a chance to maybe get to know him.

Y/n Walked around the facility trying to find her way to her room so she could grab her stuff and take a shower. After taking a few missed turns she made it to her room and looked at herself in the small mirror on the concrete wall. She fixed her hair and grabbed a change of clothes and her shower bag and walked out.

She had been here for about 3 days, Sam still not talking to her. She had introduced herself to Roberto and started hanging out with Danielle and Rahne. Illyana and Y/n stayed far away from each other, Illyana called her nicknames like 'teapot' and ' explosive' which arent the worse nicknames someone could have but they were annoying.

She walked down the hallway trying to retrace the steps that Dani and Rahne took to show her where the bathroom was. She took a right and say a door with a sign "Women's Bathroom" and opened the door "Hello?" she said as she entered, no one answered. After making sure she was alone. She turned on the water and stripped down. She let the warm water run through her hair and down her body, she washed her hair and body and turned off the water and wrapped her towel around her body, and walked towards the sinks and mirrors.

She looked at herself and thought "What is his problem though? why is he annoyed at me, I didn't do anything." she shook her head and rolled her eyes. y/n got dresses and did everything else she had to do before exiting the bathroom and walking to her room. Dani and Rahne were standing outside it. They looked at her and smiled.

Y/n pov

I exited the bathroom and walked to my room, feeling a lot better to be clean. I turned down the hall towards my room, Dani and Rahne stood outside it and smiled at me, I ran to them "Hey!" I smiled and opened the door to put my stuff down "Hey, its almost time to eat dinner. And then we're gonna go to the attic. You in?" Rahne asked looking a little so happy "Uh sure, why not." I said and closed the door slightly "what's in the attic?" The 2 girls in front of me looked at each other before answering "nothing, it's just where we hang out after somedays."

I took a deep breath "ok then, come on let's go." I said as we walked to the canteen, we had some small talk and joked around with each other during the walk. Danielle and Rahne were nice, I like them.

We turned into the canteen laughing and walked to go grab a tray. We sat down and made some more little jokes here or there. I looked around the room, Roberto was sat down with Sam And Illyana was also with them around. I pushed the food on the tray around a while talking to Rahne and Dani. I pushed it away with a sigh.

"what's wrong?" Dani said turning her head towards me "Nothing, just not hungry" I said with a smile looking around "Are you still upset about the incident? its been 2 weeks, I bet you he forgot about it by now." I bit the inside of my cheek and looked over at the table with the others, Roberto and Illyana were laughing as sam sat there running his hand down his face.

"No, why would I? I bothered him, it was my fault I should have just listened to Rahne." I said with a chuckle looking back at them " Ok then, come one let's go put theses down," Dani said looking over at the others, they were getting up, I guess to go to the attic? We stood up and put are trays next to the large metal sink, Roberto Whispered something to Rahne and she nodded. "Oh god." I thought to myself, now wanting to maybe take back my invite to the attic.

3rd POV

Sam, Illyana, and Roberto were the first ones to make it to the staircase that leads to the attic. They waited in silence for the other 3  "Why do we have to wait, can't we just meet them up there?" Roberto questioned "No, We have to wait for the Wolf and her little girlfriend to bring Tea Kettle. just wait." she said sitting on the window title.

Soon after Rahne, Dani, and Y/n turned to the corner "hey." Dani said greeting the others "Finally come on." Illyana motioned her hand towards the door. Roberto opened the door and walked up the stairs, the rest of the group followed. Y/n was the last one to go up.

"Come on hotplate, It's fine." Illyana laughed as she jumped in one of the old dusty chairs. She looked around the room, A bunch of old furniture covered with sheets. she looked in the middle of the room, an old chair with a lie detector machine "wonderful." she rolled her eyes before standing behind Dani and Rahne who sat on the couch next to Roberto. Sam sat on a table on the side of the room.

"Whos going first?" Roberto asked "I ca-"Danielle started before being cut off by Illyana pointing at Y/n " New girl. You."

Y/n POV

" New girl, you," Illyana said pointing at me, I rolled my eyes. How bad could it be? I sat in the chair and Rahne hooked me up, Everyone looked at me "whos first?" Dani asked looking around, I took a deep breath "Why are you here?" Roberto asked.

"I lost control." I stated, Illyana looked at the paper "Lie. why are you here?" the room went silent. I gave a shy laugh " I lost control and might have boiled some people alive and made another explode." I looked around, Illyana was looking at the sheet with Rahne who looked a little scared. Roberto and Dani was looking at me their eyes wide the same with sam "well, maybe more than one. who knows it was a party or well a blood bath. I'm here so I'm not thrown in jail and killed by electric chair." I looked around "truth..." Rahne said quietly "ok next." I said nervously and unhooked myself.

"My turn."Illyana said hooking her self up "new girl, ask." I thought about a question but couldn't think of one "why are you here?" I asked it a simple question, also I want to know. She looked me dead in the eyes "I killed 18 men. one by one." she smiled. After everyone asked more questions and Dani and Rahne went it was sams turn.

Sam got up in the chair, Roberto hooked him up and then sat back down. I saw him fidget with a piece of coal and blurted out "what's with the coal?" Sam stopped for a second and looked up "It's all I have left of my dad." and looked around "why are you here?" I asked quickly, wanting to know the answer I have been wondering for the past 3 days.

"I got claustrophobic, I was mining with my dad and his crew. The cave collapsed, I freaked out and exploded basically. I killed them." He stated, "I'm also here so I'm not in jail." I felt bad for asking but I had to know.

"Oh, I got one!" Roberto Said with a smirk, Sam rolled his eyes and Illyana laughed "shoot." sam replied, I looked at Roberto who was looking in between me and sam. I raised a brow and looked towards Dani who shook her head. Roberto gave a slight laugh "what's up with you and y/n?" Sam clenched his fist with the piece of coal "Nothing, I don't even know her." he replied and I looked at the ground.

I heard Roberto sit up a little to look over at the board "What's going on, you're lying."  I looked up and my eyes widened "I mean, you do stare at her at the sessions and have been focused on her the whole time. why do you just tell us, you're not hiding anything."  I stepped forward and put my hands on the couch " He doesn't have to answer that Roberto." I stated with a glare, Illyana sat up "He does though, he's hooked up. So, I would listen." she said with a smirk "come one sam, we don't have all night." I looked down and took a deep breath, wanting to leave the room.

"If you would like to know, so bad. I think she's a nice girl." He started adjusting his hat "And that's all, nothing is going on." He said taking off the cords "but you're leaving something out." Roberto pressed on, it was starting to get annoying and the energy in the room was not nice. Sam jumped out of the chair "What else it there! What do you want me to say?! That I love her ?" he yelled, I flinched. his voice echoing through the room. "Ok, guys stop." I heard Danielle say to try and calm down Sam, and the room in general.

Roberto stood up "Well then why are you always so defensive?" he laughed and I saw sams fist start to glow "Ok guys stop!" i yelled before they could do anything else "He doesn't have to answer, he's annoyed. just stop. He doesn't have to do anything its fine." I said looking at the two boys "nothing is going on, I swear. And sam is getting defensive probably because you bothering him about it every 10 minutes! I don't understand why its such a big deal!" I yelled at the room, my fist tightening.

Rahne turned around on the couch and reached for my hand to try and calm me down "Ow!" she pulled her hand away and held it close to her "why is your hand so hot? Y/n you need to calm down, there are cameras everywhere. Reyes will and can lock you back up." she stated I looked around and at the camera in the corner of the room " I'm going." and with that, I ran down the stairs.

"y/n!" I heard someone yell as the door slammed shut behind me.

Sams POV

"I'm going" and with that, she ran out of the room, Illyana smirked, "well then, I think someone knows they can't hide things for long." I looked at her "Can you just stop for like 2 minutes?!" I yelled at her before running down the stairs to catch up to her "Y/n!" I yelled right when the door slammed.

I pushed it open and saw her turn down the hallway, I ran after her. The sound of my boots echoed down the hall, I heard her shoes skid with a loud screech and she hit the floor. I ran towards her "Hey!" I yelled but not to loud to maybe alert Reyes. She pushed her self against the wall and covered her ears. I bent down in front of her "You okay?" I said softly as I- went to go touch her hand, she flinched "Don't." she said shakily, I reached for her hand and grabbed it 'Your not hot anymore, it's fine." I chuckled and she looked up "I'm sorry about that, Illyana and Roberto have been, well you know." She laughed "Teasing you? it seems like it, but why we don't even talk to each other..." she said and seemed to be thinking about it.

I sat next to her on the wall, we stayed silent for a while before we heard footsteps. we looked at each other "Reyes, run." I jumped up and pulled her up and we ran. We ran down a few hallways before we stopped. We caught are breathes and looked at each other, still holding hands.

She ran her hand through her hair and took a long deep breath. I watched her chest rise up and down, she threw her head back and took another breath. She looked at me and winked "wanna do something? that can maybe get up both deep shit?" she laughed, I raised an eyebrow "And that would be..."

She looked down the hallway "Come on!" she laughed and pulled me "Where are we going?!" Not very sure if I should be doing this or not. She kept running forwards and ran into one of the old bedrooms. I looked around the room, only a twin bed was in it. I looked at her "why and what are we doing." I ask nervously.  she walked towards the bed ad closed the door.

"Why have you been staring at me?" she asked looking at me, not breaking eye contact. I swallowed and cleared my throat "I don't know." not knowing how to answer without it being kinda creepy, she walked closer to me and pulled me by the collar of my shirt. she leaned close to my ear "You got a crush, miner? Because it seems like it. You think I haven't seen you." my face went red and pushed her up against the wall " I could say the same thing about you."

NSFW  v

Y/n Laughed and looked at sam right in his eyes "are we gonna do this or not?" she said with a smirk "you wanna?" sam responded with a laughed y/ns face fell " if I didn't want to I wouldn't have asked." and with that sam kissed her.

Sam pressed his body up against hers and kept kissing. Only taking a break to breathe. Y/n pushed him onto the twin-sized bed. she took off her boots and sam did the same. Y/n straddled sam and started to kiss down his neck, leaving a few bites here and there before finding a place on his collar bone to leave a hickey on.

Sam groaned and started to take off his jacket, y/n did the same. Sam flipped them, y/n landed on the bed. sam took of his flannel and hat, throwing them somewhere in the room, Y/n and sam looked at each other.

Y/n grabbed sam by his hair and pulled him back into a kiss Y/n grabbed sam by his hair and pulled him back into a kiss. the kiss slower than the beginning just want to enjoy the moment. Sam pulled away and started kissing down her neck, leaving hickeys all over. The concrete room echoed with slight moans and breathing. Y/n tugged at sams shirt "Off." she said in a breathy tone, he sat up and threw it behind him and started to take off her shirt.

"What never seen a shirtless girl before?"y/n said looking at the shirtless man above her, he glared at her " Not one as beautiful as you." and he ran his hands down her sides, y/n sighed. He started kissing her neck again, y/n tried to unhook her bra. Sam shoved his hand under her back and held her up. She threw her bra to the side " what? enjoy the view?" she said with a smirk, sams hair fell in his face. she looked up " You wanna go further?" she asked him, not wanting him to be uncomfortable as she knew what it felt like. "only if you want to." she nodded and sam unbuttoned her jeans and slide them down she kicked them off.

Sam undid his belt and throw it down "well that's quite harsh." Y/n chuckled . They laughed at each other, enjoying this time. Sam looked at her, admiring her. like it would disappear after they were done. sam put his uncasted hand on her waist using the casted one to stay up, his rough palm making her laugh at contact he rubbed small circles into her hip. He kissed down her stomach, stopping at her underwear line. He rubbed small circles through her underwear with his thumb. Y/n gasped and grabbed the metal bed frame. Sam continued to do it a few more times, her moans filling the room. sam slide them down and took them off.

He rubbed her clit his thumb before slowly entering a finger. sliding it in and out at a slow pace "Sam." she moaned as he continued"use your words" and smirked and looked up at her "More. please more." she moaned louder, sam entered a second finger going faster them before. her moans filling the room they were in, "fa-faster please sam." she moaned as he quicked the pace, her knuckles turning white from how hard she was holding onto the metal bed frame.

"you like that, baby girl?" he said in a deep voice, she let out a high pitch moan "I'm gonna-!" sam pulled his fingers out of her and licked them "you like that, baby girl?" he said in a deep voice, she let out a high pitch moan "I'm gonna-!" sam pulled his fingers out of her and licked them. she caught her breath "your such an ass, you know that." she wined looking at sam, he smirked and pulled down his black boxers and hovered over her.

He rubbed himself a little before lining up with her "just tell me when to stop, okay?" he said, she nodded. He slowly slipped in her, y/n hands went straight to his back "wait." she said in his ear as her nails dug into his back. they said like that for a while, letting y/n adjust "go." and sam started pumping in and out at a slow pace, sam groaned into y/n ear. y/n nails causing him to moan even harder "faster!" she moaned as she picked up his pace. Y/n digging her nails into Sams back.

The room now filled with moans and groans, "I'm gonna cum!" she came around sam with a loud moan, Sam pulled out quick finished himself off The room now filled with moans and groans, "I'm gonna cum!" she came around sam with a loud moan, Sam pulled out quick finished himself off. Y/n laid on the bed trying to catch her breath. Sam fell next to her with a deep breath. y/n looked at him, he turned his head and smiled at the girl next to him in bed. they both laughed and kissed each other "that was ... wow." y/n said with a sigh "it was, wasn't it?" he laughed and stood up to put on his boxers.

Y/n looked at him confused "where are you going?" she asked "to go grab a towel, I saw a janitor's closet down the hall. ill be right back." sam said and exited the room. a few moments later Sam came back with 2 towels and a blanket. he hander the towel so she could clean up, he did the same. Y/n put her underwear back on and her shirt. sam laid down on the bed against the concrete wall, y/n cuddled up against him.

"This wasn't a one-night stand was it ?" y/n blurted out, sam kissed the back of her shoulder " No, not if you don't want it to be." sam said softly in a sleepy tone " I don't want it to be," she said and throw the blanket sam found over the two, sam pulled her closer to his chest, keeping his casted arm on his waist. "goodnight, sweetheart." was the last thing y/n heard before she fell asleep.

Morning

The light shone through the gated window in the old bedroom, y/n, and sams clothes thrown all over the floor. Y/n yawned, waking up sam in the process. "five more minutes." he mumbled into her back, y/n laughed a little bit "come on, we have to get up. we still have to worry about the others ." Y/n sat up with a groan, her lower half was sore. sam opened his eyes "sorry." he gave a shy laugh, y/n slapped his exposed back"ow!" he yelled as her palm hit the scratches she caused on his back "those are quite big by the way." she said giving him a wink.

They got up and got dressed before exiting the room to wake to the canteen.  The two walked n the room and everyone looked at them "where were you two last night?" Roberto asked Sam, he scratched the back of his neck "our rooms, why?" sam replied, Illyana laughed "the visible, and may I say dark, hickeys say different. on both of your necks." she said with a smirk.

y/n jaw dropped slightly, forgetting that the hickeys given last night were in very visible places. Sam wrapped his arm around her waist "well then, wonderful." y/n and sam looked at each other and laughed. They shared one more small kiss before going to their tables.

Extra

Y/n pov

I sat down at the table with Rahne and Danielle.they looked at each other "you guys made up I guess." I kicked Dani's shoe and gave her a glare.

Sams POV

I sat down at the table with Illyana and Roberto, when I sat down Roberto slapped my back "Ow, you bitch." and gave him a glare. Roberto gave me a smirk "Ooh,  so that's what she's into huh."

I punched him hard.

[ingridsama]

Little Red Riot (Part Two)

Crimson eyes glared down on the wooden floor of the hut as breakfast was being served to them at the dining table. Two pairs of eyes had been staring at him for a long time that he started unconsciously fidgeting in his seat. Last night, he almost died. He and his friends joined in hunting the werewolf that had been rampaging among their village as their own definition of fun.

But Kirishima didn't know how dangerous that task actually was until he was staring at the beast's face-- frozen in horror at what might happen to him if he made a wrong move.

"Please eat up, Kirishima-kun," a feminine voice brought him back to reality and he met kind green eyes that belonged to Midoriya's mother, Inko.

"Y-yes... thank you for the meal," he answered before he froze upon meeting a pair of bright red ones that had been staring at him the whole time.

Kirishima willed himself to look away as he reached for his chopsticks to start digging in on his breakfast when the slamming of the front door had him jump from his seat in fright.

Looking back, Kirishima saw a teen with just the same age as his, standing by the door and glaring at him-- he had white-red-colored hair that was equally parted in the middle and heterochromatic eyes of silver and blue.

The stranger held gazes with Kirishima for a moment before he looks away and stomped towards Midoriya's now empty room and slammed the door behind him.

"Half-and-half sure is mad as hell," the blonde werewolf said as he smirked, ignoring the glares Midoriya was giving him.

"I'm going to talk to him," Midoriya said before excusing himself and entered his room where the stranger went.

"Who was that?" Kirishima asked, turning to Inko who was washing up the utensils she used to prepare breakfast.

"That's Shouto," Inko said with a smile. "He and Katsuki, here, are staying with us,"

"S-so he's... a werewolf too?"

Inko hesitated but nodded to confirm what Kirishima said.

"He's upset because we're letting you live," Katsuki answered. "He hates humans... especially hunters like you,"

"I'm not a hunter," Kirishima said in defense. "I just volunteered to go with the hunt. Besides, I'm particularly not a fan of werewolves either so I guess the feeling is mutual,"

Katsuki didn't reply back and Kirishima took it as a sign to start eating his breakfast-- trying hard to ignore the tensed and awkward air that filled the dining table as he shared his breakfast with the werewolf that almost killed him.

"Ain't spicy enough," he heard Katsuki grumble after taking in his first spoonful of breakfast and made to reach for the condiments at the middle of the table when he winced and pulled his hand back.

Kirishima's eyes widened as he realized that Katsuki's left arm was bandaged and a blotch of red had stained it.

"Fuck," Katsuki cursed silently, hissing in pain as he cradled his arm.

"Language!" Inko hissed from the kitchen.

"S-sorry," the werewolf grumbled.

"D-did I... Did I do that?" Kirishima asked.

Somewhere during the commotion that happened last night, Kirishima could vaguely remember how his body automatically moved on its own out of adrenaline and fear that he had almost shot Midoriya-- if the blonde werewolf didn't come to the rescue in the way and pushed the greenhead out of harm's way.

"Of course, you're the only one here capable of hurting us with that gun of yours, hunter," A voice retorted even before Katsuki could reply and Kirishima looked back to see Midoriya and Shouto coming out of the room.

The half-and-half eyes were cold and full of hatred when they met Kirishima's and the scar on his left eye added to the hostile aura the werewolf was emitting.

"Shou... I told you it was an accident, didn't I?" Midoriya said gently with a smile, rubbing soothing circles on the back of Shouto's hand that relaxed the latter.

"Yeah, I wouldn't die with a bullet grazing my arm, half-and-half," Katsuki agreed, throwing Kirishima a wink before looking back at Shouto. "So no need to get worried about your brother,"

Shouto rolled his eyes. "My concern has been for Izuku only," he answered. "That hunter would've killed him last night if you had been too late in pushing Izuku out of the way so..."

Shouto abruptly stopped himself and Katsuki's smirk grew. "So... what? Keep going half-and-half, you're almost there," he said.

Shouto growled before looking away, scrunching up his nose that made Midoriya smile.

"Katsuki-kun, are you done eating? I need to change your bandages," Inko said. "Izuku, Shouto-kun, please go ahead and eat your breakfast before it gets cold,"

"U-um..." Kirishima called as Katsuki stood up from his seat. "I-if this means anything, I-I'm... I'm sorry, for... for shooting you, or... for not shooting you, I... it was an accident,"

"Well, I wouldn't say that it's alright since it really did hurt like hell," Katsuki answered, scratching his nape.

"Kacchan, you're way out of character today," Midoriya said.

"Did almost endangering your life changed you?" Shouto followed.

"SHUT UP, BASTARDS!" Katsuki yelled.

"And he's back," Midoriya muttered under his breath, shaking his head in amusement.

"M-Midoriya," Kirishima called. "T-thank you... for the meal a-and for last night, but... I have to get back to the village,"

"What are you talking about?" Shouto said.

"S-Shouto..." Midoriya made an attempt to stop him.

"E-eh?" Kirishima answered in confusion.

"You didn't tell him?" Shouto asked, turning to Midoriya.

"I-I was about to," Midoriya said.

"Tell me what?" Kirishima asked, dread filling him up as his mind went haywire-- was his friends killed? Or did they declare him dead already? Are they going to kill him after all? Who wouldn't, though; he knew too much already for Midoriya to let him go.

"U-uh... Kirishima-kun," Midoriya said, "It's not that we don't... trust you, but... you've seen Katsuki and Shouto already s-so we thought t-that... that letting you go back to the village isn't s-safe for... us, so--"

"Unfortunately for you-- and inconveniently for us as well-- you'll be staying here for a while," Shouto finished what Midoriya had trouble starting.

Kirishima met Midoriya's eyes as his mind processed what the greenhead just said before finally uttering his answer. "... what?"

***

Plop!

Goes the sound of the water as another stone dived down the pond as Kirishima threw stones at the innocent body of water to relieve the anger he was feeling.

Midoriya had just broken the news to him this morning-- with Kirishima seeing and knowing who the werewolves were and who was protecting them, they couldn't let Kirishima go back to the village. The redhead had tried negotiating but it just ended up with Kirishima lashing out at Midoriya when the greenhead stood his ground and shook his head no in letting him go.

Kirishima threw another and bigger stone down the pond with unintentional strength that caused some water to splash back at Kirishima-- coincidentally hitting him square in the face.

With his tension rising up, he grabbed a bigger stone and threw hard on the pond with a loud curse.

"Damn," A voice behind him caused Kirishima to jump back and turn sharply-- only to see the blonde werewolf looking at him with an amused smile on his face. "What did water ever do to you?"

Kirishima looked away, annoyed. "Leave me alone," he grumbled as he turned back to the pond-- frowning at his wavy reflection on the water.

"Inko-san told me to come and fetch you since I don't think Deku would be able to persuade you to come inside,"

"Well you won't be able to persuade me either, so leave me alone," Kirishima snapped.

The redhead turned his head back to the pond, fist clenched tight in frustration-- frustration that he couldn't escape back to the village and Katsuki still wasn't leaving him alone as the blonde stood there with his arms crossed, giving no indication that he was leaving anytime soon.

Giving out a demoralized grunt, Kirishima snapped at the werewolf once more. "I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE, DAMN IT!" he yelled. "Isn't already good enough for you that I can't escape here?! Why do you have to tail at me like some dog?! Go away! "

"Kirishima-kun? Everything okay?" Midoriya entered the scene with worry in his eyes and Kirishima started to see red.

"Absolutely!" Kirishima yelled angrily. "Everything is fine! I can't go home after encountering your monsters for pets, but it's totally fine!"

Kirishima knew he had hit a nerve when Katsuki's eyes darkened but he didn't care-- he was angry and he wanted them to know that.

"K-Kirishima-kun, please calm down," Midoriya said as he took a step closer. "I-I know you're upset about this, but--"

"I'm not upset, Midoriya! I'm furious! Why can't I go home? Why are you keeping me captive here?! I'm not going to tell anyone about you or them... I just... I just want to go home!"

"Please understand," Midoriya said, growing frustrated as well, as he walked closer. "We're just being careful, I--"

Midoriya was cut-off when a hard punch got in contact with cheeks as Kirishima gave him a right hook-- causing the greenhead to stagger back.

Wide green eyes met wide crimson ones as Kirishima also got stunned by his actions.

"M-Midoriya..." Kirishima drew his fist back and tried to help the greenhead up. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I don't know what came over me, I--"

Both sensed another presence nearby and Midoriya turned his head to meet heterochromatic eyes that were radiating violent anger.

"S-Shouto..." Midoriya mumbled and Kirishima sensed the greenhead's fear.

"M-Midoriya?" Kirishima asked as he glanced at the latter and at Shouto.

"You hurt Izuku," Shouto growled as his teeth started sharpening into fangs and his eyes seemed to glow.

"Run," Midoriya muttered.

"W-what?"

"Run, Kirishima-kun!" Midoriya pushed the redhead away just in time for Shouto to transform in his wolf form-- hackles raised as his eyes locked dangerously on Kirishima who had fallen on the ground, frozen in fear.

"Shouto, please! Listen to me!" Midoriya pleaded as he scrambled back to his feet to try and get Shouto to calm down.

But the half-and-half hybrid was blinded by his outrage and leaped over Midoriya-- claws out as he targeted Kirishima who only had time to close his eyes and welcome death.

Another growl permeated the scene followed by a yelp that had Kirishima open his eyes in shock to see a blonde werewolf standing in between him and Shouto.

Kirishima's breath was caught up in his chest as he looked up at the same bright red eyes that belonged to Katsuki as the werewolf glanced at him before giving out a warning bark at his comrade-- warning him to back off.

"Get up!" Midoriya's exclamation jolted Kirishima back to reality as the greenhead pulled Kirishima up to his feet and got him away just in time for Shouto to charge at Katsuki-- both werewolves snapping at each other and fight for dominance.

"Izuku! What's going on?!" Inko asked as she ran towards them and watched the hybrids fight-- horror in her eyes.

"Mom, please get Kirishima-kun out of here... Please," Midoriya said as he pushed Kirishima to Inko. "I need to stop them before they get hurt,"

But before any of them could say another word, a yelp erupted from the fight and Midoriya turned to see Shouto lying unconsciously on the ground-- Katsuki standing next to him and let out a sad whine as he nudged Shouto's paw.

Inko gasped and Kirishima's eyes widened before the scene.

"No..." Midoriya whispered as his body willed itself to run to both hybrids as they transformed back to their human forms.

Katsuki's knees buckled from exhaustion as his eyes fluttered close but Midoriya caught him on time and laid him next to Shouto who's eyes were fluttering open.

"Izu...ku," Shouto mumbled.

"I-I'm sorry..." Katsuki whispered as Midoriya knelt in between them.

"Shut up, your wounds aren't that bad. You're not dying!" Midoriya said as he got out some bandages he always kept with him and started treating their wounds.

Inko was by his side and covering up Katsuki and Shouto with blankets as Kirishima just stood there-- stunned that a werewolf he had known to be dangerous just saved his life.

"You'll both be fine, okay?" Inko said with a smile as she and Midoriya started patching up the wounds they got from the fight.

"M-Midoriya..." Kirishima called but Midoriya didn't give a sign that he heard him at all-- either that or he was ignoring Kirishima. Even Inko couldn't look up to meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I..." Kirishima stuttered and looked down on the wounds on the hybrids' bodies-- wounds that he caused. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Midoriya's actions paused as he took a deep breath and answered. "You've already done enough, Kirishima-kun..."

"Look, I'm sorry... I--"

"If you want to go back to the village so bad, then you're free to go..." Midoriya cut him off. "With what you did, you proved that humans like us can be more of a monster than them... So, please... just go before you cause another injury,"

Kirishima looked at Inko for help, but she had looked away sadly. Then he looked at Katsuki and saw his wounds.

"I'm sorry..." Kirishima whispered before he turned and ran away from the scene-- leaving with a heavy heart.

~ TO BE CONTINUED ~

[kim-seungmine]

the time is now

title: the time is now

characters: (fem) reader x kim seungmin of stray kids (feat. choi lia of itzy, lee felix + bang chan of stray kids)

genres: romance, rich kid au, friends to lovers au, (sort of!) mafia au, dedicating this to 191109 seungmin & levanter era!seungmin

word count: 7.9k 

warnings: alcohol consumption, violence (nothing too wild tho), i haven’t proofread, idk what im doing tbh (but seungmin drives an aston martin i hope that makes you feel better)

synopsis: you and seungmin spent years pushing each other away, only to be confronted by your biggest fears when you finally decided to stop running away.

a/n: i hope this doesn’t suck :(((

Summer is for fun. Summer is for rest. Summer is for romance.

But summer is also for opportunities, and that’s the sole reason why you’re standing inside the Laura Ryu boutique—where you can’t even afford its cheapest pair of earrings. The luxury fashion brand is open for internships for the very first time and now it’s one of those “a million girls would kill for that job” positions in South Korea.

“Good morning, everyone.”

The sweet but regal voice belongs to Julia Choi, Laura Ryu’s daughter who’s specifically flew back from New York to Seoul for the summer to help her mother managing the internship. You know her better as Choi Jisu, your childhood friend who’s currently attending Parsons School of Design.

“I’m Choi Jisu, and I’m going to be your mentor throughout the internship. Well, technically I’m responsible for all of you here so please, stay in one piece until the end of summer although it’s going to be absolute hell, okay?”

Everyone laughs, and soon you’re ushered to one big studio inside. You see a placard with your name on one of the table and quickly head there, giving Jisu a little wave as she tells the other interns to find their stations.

After all the interns are seated, Jisu claps, effectively silencing everyone. “And now, something to motivate you,” she announces. “We’re going to monitor every single one of you and by the end of summer, we’re going to choose one intern to help with our next collection. How’s that sound?”

Excited whispers are heard all over the room, and you hope you’ll survive summer in one piece.

“Y/N! Wait up!”

Jisu is running down the stairs, her heels making loud clacking sounds against the marble floor. She envelops you in a tight hug the moment you’re within an arm’s reach. You’ve missed Jisu, it feels like it’s been ages since you volunteered at the animal shelter together.

“I can’t believe you actually applied!” she chirps.

You chuckle. “Well, I can’t believe I actually got in.”

Jisu snorts. “Oh please. I don’t need to see your portfolio to know how amazing it is. You’re probably the only one who sent a proper portfolio.”

She greets the shopkeepers, leading you outside. “Are you free? Let’s catch up!” she offers. You nod, linking your arm with hers. “What do you want to do? Coffee?”

“O—”

A white Aston Martin pulls over in front of you, causing Jisu to gasp and check her watch. The window rolls down, revealing an annoyed Kim Seungmin on the driver’s seat. “Yah Choi Jisu,” he snaps. “I know I’m just your insignificant cousin, but couldn’t you at least tell me that you were going to be at your Mom’s boutique the whole day?”

“Oh shoot, sorry Seungmin! I totally forgot,” Jisu panics, turning to you with apologetic eyes. “It’s okay,” you assure her. “Go. You’re stuck with me for the whole summer anyways.”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m not gonna leave you behind. Seungmin, you don’t mind if I bring Y/N along, do you?”

Yeah, Kim Seungmin. Someone from your “summer is for romance” phase two years ago. You’re well aware that you’re an intern at his aunt’s boutique, but you thought you wouldn’t meet him since he’s set to take over his father’s law firm instead of becoming the heir of Laura Ryu’s fashion empire.

“It’s fine,” you refuse. “We can hang out some other time, Jisu. You two have fun!”

“Come with us,” Seungmin interjects, calmly as usual. Two years of not seeing him in flesh has weakened your defense. Seungmin has always looked fine, but now he looks ten times hotter with his dirty blond hair and you’re cursing yourself for being so shallow. Jisu shrugs, opening the door and pulling you inside.

Seungmin glances at the empty passenger seat then at the rear-view mirror. “So where are we headed, Young Mistresses?” he asks, his tone both sarcastic and playful.

“We were going to grab some coffee. Just stop by at the first Starbucks you see,” Jisu answers before attacking you with questions. Seungmin mumbles an, “Okay Miss” before making a u-turn. You feel all eyes are on you when you enter the café, suddenly realizing that you just stepped out of Kim Seungmin’s Aston Martin with Choi Jisu attached to your side.

For a split second, you forgot that you’re hanging out with South Korea’s top socialites who are way too cool for Starbucks.

After getting your orders, the three of you are chatting about every little thing. “And how is our little Byul? Has she been adopted?”

You and Seungmin exchange awkward glances, causing Jisu to cock an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“I didn’t go to the shelter last year,” you confess.

“Me neither,” Seungmin mumbles, sipping his Americano in a haste.

“Okay, neither of you went to the shelter last year, so what? What are you guys being so weird about?”

“Nothing,” you and Seungmin answer in unison. Jisu examines your face and snaps her fingers, seeming to get the idea. “Well, if that’s the case… why don’t you two talk things out?”

“Wait what happened to catching up?” you panic, while Seungmin grabs his cup and stands up. “I should drive you home,” he says.

Jisu clicks her tongue. “Sit down, both of you.”

You and Seungmin do as told, begging her with your eyes to save yourselves from this situation. “As you said, Y/N, we’re stuck together for the whole summer so we still have a lot of time. And no thank you, dear cousin. I’ll just take the cab. See you!”

Your friend smiles at you one last time before walking out, stopping the first cab she can find. You turn to Seungmin, finally letting yourself indulge in his pretty eyes that only seem to warm up whenever you’re around. Contrary to popular belief, there’s nothing special about Kim Seungmin except for the fact that he’s a straight-As law student, looks both adorable and hot, and is actually a sweet, humble boy despite being filthy rich.

Okay, you’re definitely not over him.

Seungmin clears his throat. “So, how’s the internship so far?”

“It was only my first day,” you answer. “We didn’t do much yet. The real fight starts tomorrow, I guess.”

“You’re in good hands. Jisu handles everything well, and her Mom won’t even show up until the last day so you’re going to have fun.”

You laugh. “But one of the interns is going to be included in the team in charge of the next collection so I suppose your aunt will appear once in a while, right?”

“She’ll be in Paris the whole summer,” Seungmin explains. “Jisu begged her to let her handle the program because she misses home, and here we are now.”

“How about you? Been doing fine, I guess?”

The little spark in Seungmin’s eyes fades at your question. He stands up, returning your puzzled gaze with a cold one. “Let me take you home.”

“You don’t need to,” you retort, slightly offended. “Seungmin, did I say something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t,” he denies. “Please let me take you home. Jisu will kill me if I leave you alone here.”

You’re not satisfied with his answer, but decide to follow him. Seungmin enters the driver’s seat and starts the engine, heading to your neighbourhood without a word. “You still remember where I live?” you ask.

“I’m a law student Y/N. I can remember a lot of things.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. This is probably the only thing you hate about Seungmin: he shuts down everyone the moment he shows a hint of weakness. “Seungmin… are you okay?” you try again. “I’m not getting off until I get a proper answer.”

Jisu once told you that everyone in their big family sees a therapist every month; you know for sure that Seungmin must be their favorite patient because they get paid a fortune for counselling a very good boy who answers everything with positive words.

Seungmin is a strong, positive guy, but not all the time. People tend to forget that. He tends to forget that.

Looking at how tense he is, you decide to drop the subject. “How’s Chan and Felix?” you ask while scrolling through your Instagram feed, looking at a photo of the said boys posing in front of their luxury cars.

Seungmin’s eyes soften at the mention of his best friends. “Aren’t you the one who go to the same university?” he questions endearingly.

Christopher Bang and Felix Lee were your classmates in Fashion Journalism—a class which Felix signed up for by mistake. He tried to have it erased from his timetable, but changed his mind when he realized that everyone in that class was girls. Soon, his best bro Chris Bang joined him and when they found out you were friends with Seungmin and Jisu too, they wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Yeah, but everytime I want to say hi they’re always surrounded by their friends.”

“You mean Seo Changbin, Lee Minho and Yang Jeongin?”

You nod. Seungmin laughs, slowing down his pace as he reaches your neighbourhood. “Just say hi. Those guys are harmless.”

“Easy for you to say,” you scoff. “Seo Changbin radiates this ‘you can’t sit with us’ vibes stronger than those girls in Mean Girls.”

“I mean it,” he repeats. “Just say hi. Felix calls you all the time anyways. You’re a part of their so-called circle.”

“You mean your circle?” you correct him jokingly, unfastening your seatbelt as he smoothly hits the brake in front of your house. “Thank you for taking me home.”

Seungmin smiles your favorite smile, the one where his eyes disappear into crescent moons. The door is opened, yet you’re just sitting there, trying to look for answers inside Seungmin’s doe eyes.

“What is it?”

You chew your bottom lip, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

Your Golden Retriever puppy named Sun died when you were in fifth grade. You couldn’t function for the rest of summer, so your Dad suggested that you volunteer at an animal shelter. You eventually registered for a 2-week volunteer program where you fell in love with a lively Pomeranian you ended up adopting and a lovely boy named Kim Seungmin.

You and Seungmin went to different schools (he attended an elite all-boys school), the volunteer program was the only time you could meet him. He brought his cousin Choi Jisu the next year, and it became a routine for the three of you from then on. Your beautiful friendship was perfect until your 18th birthday, when Seungmin gifted you a box full of photos of you he had taken as your birthday present.

After 8 years, you finally realized that Kim Seungmin wasn’t just a friend you volunteered with. He was the one you played hide and seek with, he was the one who taught you to use a camera, he was the one who sang to you when you cried after one of the dogs in the shelter got sick.

“Have I ever told you that I love your voice?” you asked him on one Sunday morning, right before you turned 20. “You could be a singer.”

“No, but thank you. You said it right when I started doubting myself.”

“This is not an empty compliment, Seungmin. I’m serious.”

Seungmin ruffled your hair, eyes lighting up at your seriousness. “You never say empty words, Y/N. I know that.”

After a few minutes of trying to find the right response and not finding any, you decided to let his compliment hang in the air. You laid beside him, keeping a safe distance because hearing him breathe so peacefully was enough to mess up your insides.

Seungmin turned to you, and for a while he just stayed like that, quietly examining your face while you were on the verge of freaking out.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t change his position, eyes still locked on your face as he whispered, “I asked myself that too, but I honestly don’t know. I just hope I can see you like this forever. Seeing you makes me happy.”

Speechless, you didn’t dare to meet his eyes. How were you supposed to react? Was Seungmin drunk?

“Seriously,” you croaked to break the silence. “You should audition to become an idol or something.”

“Should I?”

“Well, depends whether you want it or not, but go ahead if you want! You have nothing to lose anyways!”

His lips curled into a sad smile. “Nothing to lose? Y/N, money isn’t the only thing I have.”

Whenever you started to feel that maybe you and Seungmin could become something more, the universe always made sure to remind you that he wasn’t just a boy you grew up with. He was the only son of a successful lawyer who rode limousine to school and owned a black credit card he used without thinking. He appeared on nation’s newspaper after attending exclusive parties you could only dream of going. He was someone who flew to London with private jet over the weekend because he wanted to take some photos.

You laughed, locking eyes with him without realizing. “But with your money you can have everything, Seungmin. You and Jisu are different from the rest of us.”

Ten years of friendship and you never once talked about this. You knew Seungmin wouldn’t mind; he wasn’t the type who liked to flaunt his wealth, but he wasn’t one of those people who didn’t like to be reminded of how loaded they were. He never cared. But you were afraid he would think that you did, so you always avoided making comparisons.

That day, you had to do it. Maybe you were too protective of yourself, but you couldn’t risk getting hurt. One little slash on your heart, and the wound would leave a permanent scar.

Seungmin hummed in agreement, breaking the eye contact to look at the clear sky.

He left the shelter the next day, and you never talked to him again.

“Jisuuuu,” you whine as Jisu pulls you into Rose’s, a fancy bar that she frequents. “I thought we were just going to hang out!”

“We are!” Jisu exclaims, waving at the bartender before choosing a spot. She orders you a drink you’re not familiar with before pouting at you. “Okay, sorry for not telling you, but we’re not gonna hang out alone today.”

The door opens, revealing Chan and Felix. The latter immediately throws his arms around you, and you can’t help but break into an endearing laugh. “Y/N!!!! Why is it so hard to meet you? Don’t you miss your expensive friends?!”

You pull away from his grip. “Excuse me, but since when your socialite agenda includes your humble friend right here?”

Felix pouts, ordering a glass of Dry Martini while Chan and Jisu are whispering among themselves. You scoot closer to them. “What are you guys whispering about?”

The three of them snicker at the same time and you figure this isn’t just the usual “hanging out” session.

You turn to Chan. “Bang Chan, spill.”

“Wow, hearing someone that’s not my parents calling me Bang Chan is so refreshing,” Chan says. “It’s like having 2 personalities. Christopher is this hot, alluring, seductive man no one ever says no to, while Bang Chan is his inner child—soft, caring, funny… but still hot—”

Jisu shoots Chan a deathly glare before smiling at you. “You like Seungmin, don’t you?”

You take a sip of your drink and let her question sink in. Looking at your friends’ faces, you know that it wasn’t even a question. They feel it, and there’s no use of denying your feelings anymore.

“And that’s all we need to know!” Chan exclaims, standing up from his seat. He slips in a few dollars into the bartender’s pocket. “Seungmin doesn’t know we were here.”

Felix slaps his shoulder. “Bro you were literally the one who told him to come here. Stop trying to be cool.”

“Ah… you’re right,” Chan answers as Jisu rolls her eyes. “But anyways, Seungmin is will be here soon. Talk to him, okay?”

After waving them goodbye, you glance at your surroundings. Everyone is chatting with their friends while sipping their drinks happily; they’re in their natural habitat, while you’re just sitting there hoping Seungmin will come soon so you can get out of there as soon as possible. The bartender notices your uneasiness and offers you another drink to try.

Just as you start contemplating to leave, Seungmin enters the bar. He gives you a small wave when his eyes land on you, like it’s natural to see you there. The bartender serves 2 glasses of drinks before Seungmin even reaches you, “Gin and tonic, Mr. Kim’s favorite.”

Taking off his suit, Seungmin sits beside you and sips his drink. “When Chan kept terrorizing me to get here ASAP I know something’s up,” he says, examining your face. “… and you want to leave.”

Without waiting for your answer, Seungmin takes his coat. “Put it on my tab,” he tells the bartender, putting his hand on the small of your back and leads you out.

“Do you want to talk?” he asks after you’re sitting inside his car. “For real this time.”

He sounds apologetic, hurt and hopeful all at once and you recall everything you said to him two years ago. Those words left a deep scar in your heart, you can only imagine how broken Seungmin must have been.

“Yeah, we do need to talk.”

You never want to allow yourself to feel insecure, but the voices in your head get wild sometimes. You hate to admit it, the same way Seungmin hates to admit that he’s not always the calm and strong heir everyone expects him to be.

The only way to tune out those voices is to visit the park near your house to play on the swings

Seungmin has rolled up his sleeves so he could help you push the swings. You try to look over your shoulder. “Kim Seungmin what are you doing? Push it harder!” you demand, to which he shakes his head.  

He continues to push the swings gently, still allowing you to feel the cold wind on your face. “No,” he answers firmly. “You’ll get sick.”

Knowing you can’t change his mind, you just let him set the pace, and soon your heart starts to feel lighter. The voices get muffled by Seungmin’s low humming. You have a lot of explaining to do, yet he hasn’t said anything, not even telling you to smile a little. This time you’re not sure if it’s because of the swings or Seungmin or both, but the voices are almost gone now and you decide that’s enough for tonight.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper quietly. Seungmin stops pushing, letting the swings moves by itself before coming to a halt. He kneels down in front of you, a frown on his face. “Why? What did you do?”

“Two years ago… I’m sorry I pushed you away,” you sigh. “I’m sorry I did it like that. And I’m sorry for pestering you the other day. I don’t have any right to force you to tell me things.”

Seungmin heaves a sigh, grabbing your hand to stop you from fiddling with your shirt. He slowly laces his fingers with yours, the warmth of his eyes reminding you of the old happy days when the two of you would sneak out from the shelter to have a picnic under the clear sky. “And I shouldn’t have left,” he reminds you. You only stare into each other’s eyes until he blurts out, “Can we start over?”

You almost cry at how easy and right it feels. You spent years of your adolescent life telling yourself that this wouldn’t work, the wall you built to protect your heart was destroyed by the very person you built it for. But you find it impossible to lie when he’s looking at you with so much hope and adoration. When you finally nod, Seungmin rewards you with his toothy grin that always makes your insides flip.

The voices in your head shout out warnings at you, but you quickly shut all of them down. You’re not going to let them win. You’re not going to let them stop you from loving the only boy you want to love.

“Let’s take things slow, yeah?”

Seungmin beams at your words, pulling you up to envelop you in his arms. He waits until you relax before tightening his hold. You rest your forehead on his shoulder, breathing him in as he mouths words you can’t decipher into your hair. “Remember when you managed to persuade that young couple to adopt Vivi?”

“My lucky day,” you murmur, unconsciously pulling him closer to you.

“It was my lucky day too.”

“Of course it was! The owner also bought you chicken when Jisu and I were the ones working hard! You just nodded along with us!”

Seungmin chuckles. “I got to hold you for the first time that day. You were so happy that Vivi got a new home that you just jumped into my arms. Then you started crying and ruined my Balenciaga shirt, but I was beyond happy. You stayed in my arms until you fell asleep, and I got to watch you sleep.”

You pinch his waist softly. “You’re such a creep.”

Seungmin’s laugh only makes you feel even giddier than you already are, so you just close your eyes and relish in the feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist securely. “Shall we go to Jeju tomorrow?” he suggests.

“Jeju?”

He pulls away, enough for him to see your face but still holding you close. “Yeah. I can book us tickets so we can fly tomorrow and spend the whole weekend there. You don’t have internships on weekends, right? We’ll go to pretty places and I’ll take hundreds of pretty photos of you. We can have dinner by the beach since our villa is facing the ocean. You love seafood, right? Our chefs—”

“Kim Seungmin, what happened to taking things slow?” you giggle, causing him to let out a cute frustrated groan. “I’m sorry. How about a road trip to Busan then?”

“You can drive to Busan?”

“You’re underestimating me, love.”

Seungmin’s phone rings when you’re about to utter a sassy remark. He glances at the caller and releases you, his eyes turn cold as he accepts the call. “Yes, father?”

You can’t hear what his father is saying, but whatever it is, Seungmin doesn’t look happy. You reach for his hand carefully, and he quickly squeezes yours while responding to his father in a polite, business-like manner. He walks you to your house, telling his father that he’ll be home soon.

Seungmin pulls you into his arms again as soon as he slides his phone into his pocket. “Duty calls?”

“Mhm,” he replies. “As you can see, I had a meeting today, and Father wants updates.”

“He already involves you in meetings? That’s cool!”

“Nah, I can’t voice out any opinion yet. I’m just there to listen.”

Seungmin detaches himself from you, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek. “So, I’ll pick you up at 6?”

You nod, not even bothering to protest that it’s too early because you want to see him again soon. Seungmin enters his car and starts the engine. He rolls down the window, grinning when he sees you wave at him. The phone call must have bothered him, but you decided to let it slide. “Text me when you get home,” you tell him.

Take things slow. You have to take things slow.  

Not only does Seungmin know how to drive to Busan (while looking extremely attractive behind the wheels), he also knows Busan like the back of his palm. He took you to all the pretty places and took pretty photos of you as promised. Now you’re at the balcony of the Kim family villa (you figure they have apartments and villas scattered in the whole country), nestled in Seungmin’s arms while waiting for the sun to set.

“Wait, sit over there!” Seungmin forces you to move from your spot to the end of the couch. “The angle is pretty!” He snaps a few photos with his newest Leica camera that’s worth a car. You give him your silliest poses before bursting into a fit of giggles. Seungmin puts the camera on the coffee table and pulls you back to him. “Enough photos for today,” he mutters, settling you on his lap. Seungmin never struck you as someone who loves skinship, but he never misses a chance to wrap you in his arms, and you’re not complaining. He probably feels the same blissful comfort you feel whenever the two of you touch.

The sun begins to set, and for a while you focus your gaze on the sky, admiring the way the sun paints it with shades of orange. Seungmin shifts underneath you, pressing a kiss on your exposed shoulder to earn your attention. You meet his eyes, and you see a tinge of worry in them. “What is it?”

Seungmin takes an awfully long time to answer your question, causing you to cup his face. “Tell me.”

“Do you trust me?”

The question has you frowning. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

Seungmin smiles, but the tinge of worry is still reflected through his orbs. “Whatever happens, I’ll try my best to make this work, okay? I’ll do anything to make this work. I want you in my life, more than you can imagine.”

“Seungmin—”

“There will be days when I’ll be away for meetings, there will be days when I’ll feel like absolute shit because of my Father and the business,” he reveals. “Sometimes it will feel like I’m keeping you in the dark and I know you won’t like that, but there are so many things I need to sort out now, and I can’t tell you anything yet. Is that okay?”

You can’t base your relationship on not-knowing! You can’t base your relationship on excuses and blind faith!

“Is it too much if I ask you not to let me wait for too long?”

Seungmin shakes his head so fast you wonder if it hurts his neck. “You know how smart I am,” he boasts. “Trust me, you’ll be amazed at how good I am in getting things done.”

“You better be, there are a lot of people waiting for your help, Lawyer Kim.”

Your boyfriend chuckles. “Speaking of getting things done, I have a request for you.”

“Request?”

“There’s this masked ball held by Chan’s Dad next month, and we’re all attending. I’ve been looking for a nice mask, but everything seems mediocre. Will you design one for me?”

You squeal, immediately attacking him in a tight hug. You’ve always wanted to design jewelries, including masks. The mere thought of buying the materials, matching the design according to Seungmin’s style and drawing all the pretty details launch you to cloud 9 in an instant.

“I guess you like it,” Seungmin singsongs. “I have one more request though.”

You tilt your head in excitement.

“I want you to be my date.”

Your smile falters, but Seungmin tug at your lips softly, gesturing at you to smile again. “Everyone will wear a mask and you’ll only take it off at midnight, so we can leave before midnight if you want. Besides, I’m just a guest. All eyes will be on Chan.”

“But what kind of dress am I supposed to wear? Everyone will—”

“Aren’t you a designer? You’ve sewed a lot of dresses, wear one of them.”

“But they’re not from designer brands, aren’t you ashamed?”

“I don’t care,” Seungmin tells you in the most caring tone. “You’re you, not Julia Choi. Not Felix Lee. Not Christopher Bang. And you’re not me.”

Flashbacks from your painful conversation two years ago come in a flash, but now both of you are looking at it from a whole different perspective. Your smile slowly returns, and Seungmin huffs a sigh of relief. “That’s my girl.”

“Can I tell you something too?”

He nods.

“There will be days when I’ll feel like I’ll never be good enough to succeed in anything,” you begin, biting your lip to prevent tears from falling. “I don’t let myself dwell on it most of the time, but sometimes I fail. Is that okay?”

Seungmin cradles your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’ll knock some sense into you whenever you’re about to drown in self-pity!”

You pat his head in return, hoping that this Seungmin—the one whose eyes radiate sunshine and voice laced with honey, the one whose laugh sounds like a sweet melody—will be the Seungmin he shows to the rest of the world more.

Seungmin is still cradling your face, gaze flickering to your lips every now and then, triggering you to do glance at his lips in return. The pull is too tempting, you wonder if you should just crash your lips on his or let him decide for you.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” he whispers, barely audible. Your eyes flutter close, and Seungmin doesn’t waste any time. His lips meet yours in a fleeting kiss, making your breath hitch at how soft and burning his lips feel. Seungmin kisses you deeply, taking his time to savor you and you’re going insane at the way he clutches your waist, the way he hums everytime you pull him closer. It’s almost too much, yet at the same you know he’s still holding back as if he’s afraid that this is all just a fever dream.

“Seungmin, please.”

“Mhmm?” he tries to speak against your lips, hazy eyes gazing into yours.

“More,” you breathe out, determined to make him let go and kiss you the way he wishes to although you’re blushing like mad. “I’m not going anywhere, so just kiss me.”

“You sure?” he mutters, eyes waiting for your approval.

You close your eyes again, and right that moment you feel Seungmin’s lips move against yours. This time, he lets go. Hovering over you, he pours all the feelings he had suppressed for years into the kiss. You’re soon lost in all the love and passion he has for you, his every touch eating your skin alive. You’re lost in Seungmin, Seungmin, Seungmin and you hope he knows you feel the same.

“Stay still!” you yelp, fixing Seungmin’s mask as the limousine stops in front of the ballroom where the party is held. Mr. Song, Seungmin’s chauffeur, opens the door for both of you. You start to panic upon seeing reporters snapping photos of other guests entering the ballroom. Seungmin steps out, looking like His Royal Highness from a reputable kingdom.

He extends his hand to you. “Come on, love. Jisu and the others are already inside.”

The sound of shutters and the blinding flashes almost make you shut the door and tell Mr. Song to drive you home, but Seungmin reaches for your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. “I’m here. You’ll be alright.”

Gathering some courage, you finally set your foot on the ground. Seungmin helps you with a gentle smile he knows will calm you down. He leads you inside, holding your hand a little tighter whenever someone seems to make you uncomfortable.

You spot Jisu from the gold feathery mask she showed you the night before and her signature high ponytail. A redheaded boy joined her with a drink in his hand, and you know for sure that it’s Felix. Everything at this party is grand, and by grand you mean people with diamond-studded dresses, a huge orchestra group, extravagant chandeliers, ice statues, and all kinds of foods and drinks you know absolutely nothing about.

“You okay?” Seungmin asks, releasing your hand to take a slice of chocolate cake that the waiter offers before handing it to you. Jisu squeals at the cake, taking the same cake from the waiter. You look at her in awe as she digs in right away. “How do you eat that at a place like this?” you hiss, earning a laugh from Felix.

“We’re here to enjoy ourselves, darling. Eat up!” he encourages you. You turn to Seungmin, who gives you a spoon. “Why? You love chocolate.”

You take a glance of everyone around you, nobody is eating. They’re either dancing or laughing or drinking. “Do you guys usually eat? Or are you doing this to make me comfortable?”

“We’re not some dukes and duchess Y/N. Wait, even dukes and duchess eat at parties. Shut up and enjoy your cake!” Jisu deadpans with a full mouth, causing you to laugh and do the same. Seungmin keeps his hand on the small of your back all the time, making sure you’re okay. After finishing your cake, he pulls you to the dance floor.

“No Seungmin, I’m not dancing with you,” you yell at him. Seungmin pretends not to hear you, his eyes glint with mischief. He puts your arms around his neck, then his own around your waist. You thank the heavens for the slow music because the last time you danced was in the second grade. Seungmin leads the dance, slowly backing you into a corner and pushes his mask up to plant a kiss on your lips.

“Been dying to do that.” He smirks at you as you glare at him, thankful that the mask is hiding your flushed cheeks. “Thank you for going with me. I know this isn’t your thing,” he adds, twirling you smoothly.

You scoff playfully, caressing his left cheek. “If you’re thankful, ride subway with me for the whole week.”

“Easy,” Seungmin, bringing your hand to his lips. “Your wish is my command, you know that, right?”

“All you need is tux and mask to become all flirty, huh? Did you dream to be a Disney prince?”

Seungmin shrugs, pulling you closer so you can rest your chin on his shoulder. The song comes to an end, switching to a more upbeat one when Seungmin’s phone vibrates. Though reluctantly, he takes the call and walks you to the water fountain near the salad bar.

“I’m at Mr. Bang’s party,” he says. “But Father—okay.”

The call ends just like that. Seungmin curses under his breath, wordlessly taking you back to where Jisu and Felix are standing. “I need to go now,” he breaks the news.

“Dude, you just arrived!” Felix protests.

“It’s my father,” Seungmin informs dryly. The redhead’s eyes become softer, and Jisu dismisses her cousin. “Don’t make him wait,” she urges him. “We’ll take care of Y/N. Who knows, she may find someone cooler than you.”

Seungmin looks at you with so much guilt, so you give him your most convincing smile. “Go. You can tell me about it later.”

After giving you one last “I’m sorry” look, he disappears into the crowd.

Felix cheers when the orchestra plays a song he knows. “Ohhh I love this song! Come on Y/N, time to rock the dance floor!”

As you’re about to pull Jisu along with you, Mr. Song walks toward you. He stops, bowing at the three of you. “Miss Y/N, Young Master asked me to take you.”

“Why? I thought Seungmin is meeting his father?”

“He does have some things to take care of, and you’ve been requested to join him.”

You glance at Jisu and Felix who tense at Mr. Song’s news. “Is this bad? What happened?” you try to ask, but Mr. Song only waits for you.

“It’s okay.” Felix rubs your shoulders. “Go with him.”

You nod. “See you guys later.”

Mr. Song guides you out like he knows the building by heart. Once you’re back inside the limousine, he enters the driver’s seat. “Is everything alright, Mr. Song?”

The old man smiles. “Young Master Seungmin is a very nice boy. He has clear goals and works hard to achieve them. And he wants to make you, especially, happy.”

He stops in front of an abandoned warehouse. You open the door before he does, taking off your heels while he holds the door for you. “Just give him a chance,” he says.

You quicken your pace when you hear someone scream. Peeking inside, you spot at least 10 men dressed in all-black surrounding a man who’s sitting on a chair, his hands tied and eyes blindfolded. Blood oozing from several parts of his body, his face completely bruised.

You look back to where Mr. Song is, but he only gestures at you to come inside. You slide the door a bit more to squeeze yourself in, looking up when you hear a familiar voice.

It’s Seungmin, swinging a baseball bat in his hand, his dress shirt stained with blood. “This will be the last time I ask you,” he hisses, sounding nothing like the Seungmin you know. “Tell me where the Hwangs’ secret hideout is. If not, I’m afraid I’ll have to change my weapon with something more impactful.”

One of the men hands him a gun. Seungmin takes it to the hostage, loading it near his ear. “I-I’ll tell you! Please spare me!”

The hostage goes on to provide all information that Seungmin needs. He swings his bat once again, hitting the hostage’s waist before throwing it again. You’re frozen to your spot, the whole event unfolding right before you feels like a stab on your heart. Seungmin runs his hand through his disheveled hair, then notices you standing there.

“What the fuck Y/N what are you doing here?!” he yells, voice shaky and raspy. Seungmin quickly turns around to his people, pointing at the hostage who’s lost his consciousness. “Take him away,” he commands lowly. “You’re all dismissed.”

The men drag the hostage’s body and leave the place quietly. Now, it’s just you and him facing each other. Seungmin is about to take your hand in his, but decides to stop himself when he realizes that they’re covered in blood.

“Did Mr. Song drive you here?”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Your body shakes as you involuntary recall how Seungmin beat the hostage up. The look in his eyes, his emotionless voice, the way he swung his bat without hesitation.

“What are you, Kim Seungmin?” you quiver, taking a step further from him. You need to get out, you need to be anywhere but here. You need something, anything that can make you forget what you just witnessed.

“Please,” Seungmin pleads. “Please Y/N. I’ll tell you everything. Please listen to me.”

“This is what you’ve been trying to hide from me? The fact that you torture people to get what you want?!”

Seungmin eventually grabs your hands, begging you to look at him. “I’m looking for other ways, love,” he utters. “But for now I have to do whatever my father says. His words are law, but I’ve vowed to myself that it won’t be like this for too long. I’ll stop him.”

You swat his hands away. “For years you made me think that we couldn’t be together because I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, that no matter what I did I would never be good enough, that I would never be able to fit in. It turns out you’re just saving yourself, aren’t you Kim Seungmin? You only care about yourself!”

“How am I supposed to tell you that this is me, Y/N? How am I supposed to tell you that this is how my family lives? Would you—,” he pauses, wiping his tear-stained cheeks. “Would you even spare me a glance if you knew that I’m no better than a murderer?!”

“That’s up to me to decide!” you shout. “You don’t get to make decisions for me, Seungmin, but you didn’t even give me a choice in the first place!”

When he runs out of words to say, you force your body to turn around, exiting the warehouse with your last bit of strength left. Mr. Song is waiting for you, your heels ready for you to wear. You slip into them, refusing to look into his eyes when he offers you help.

You feel Seungmin’s eyes on you as you walk away. Even after what happened, you can’t help but return his gaze. He looks broken and lost—on other days, you would have run to him and took him into your arms.

But now is not the time, no matter how desperate you are for answers. You turn on your heels, your heart shattering into pieces as you remember the question Seungmin asked you in Busan.

“Do you trust me?”

Jisu’s maid pushes a trolley full of snacks and drinks into her room. You politely refuse everything, but your friend pours herself a glass of champagne, chugging it down in one go. She lets out a dejected sigh once the maid leaves the room, glancing at you warily.

“I’m so, sorry Y/N,” she whispers. “I can’t believe his father did that to you.”

“Did he really send me there so I could see Seungmin like that? And you knew about this?”

“I didn’t!” Jisu exclaims. “I mean, I do get the gist what his father does, but I never knew it was that bad. And I didn’t know he asked Seungmin to do all the dirty deeds himself. That man and his greed.”

Jisu sits beside you. “The way Seungmin’s family runs the law firm changed since his father took over,” she explains. “I guess this is why he wins every single case now. He does literally everything to win, and he expects Seungmin to do things his way later.”

“Has Seungmin ever told you this?”

“No,” she mumbles. “I know Seungmin’s been stressed high school, but I never knew this was the reason. He’s seeing his therapist almost every day, Y/N. I thought you would help him and vice versa. I know the two of you have liked each other since forever. I’m sorry.”

You wrap your arms around her. “You’ve been nothing but sweet to us. You, Felix, Chan… you guys are my everything.”

“How about Seungmin?” Jisu starts sobbing. “I’ll respect your decision whatever it is, but what are you going to do now?”

You try to clear your mind, imagining how you and Seungmin will be if you live without each other. Will you be able to bear the unimaginable pain? Will he?

“Jisu, do you know if Seungmin’s parents are home?”

“No, they’re in Paris with my Mom.”

“Then can you drive me to his place?”

The Kim family butler takes you to Seungmin’s bedroom. He knocks the door, waiting for a while before opening it when nobody answers. The big room is empty, but the attic ladder is pulled down. “Young Master likes to spend his time in the attic. He probably fell asleep there,” the butler says.

You nod, thanking him before climbing up. The attic is neat and warm, with Seungmin’s photos decorating the walls. Several dog plushies are placed on a small wooden rack, while some get special spots near his mattress.

You lie down beside him, taking a good look of his sleeping form. He’s no longer covered in blood (which definitely makes things easier for you), and his steady breathing calms you down within seconds. You wonder how it feels like having to sacrifice everything in order to have everything. You think about how Seungmin wakes up in fear everyday, waiting for his father’s cruel orders.

“Y/N?”

Seungmin blinks at you, squinting to make sure that it’s really you. “Hi. Your butler let me in.”

He scrambles to get up, but you stop him. “Lie down. You must be tired.”

You scoot closer to him, feeling his body tense up when you circle your arms around his torso. “You can tell me everything now.”

Seungmin begins his story, explaining how his father never says no to clients, no matter how impossible their cases are to win. He often works with his clients to eliminate everyone in their way, using any methods possible. When Seungmin started high school, his father told him to watch how the law firm worked, and eventually forced him to do things by himself so he would “toughen up” and “understand how business works.”

“Mr. Song has been helping me form plans to end this. He’s Father’s most trusted person, so he knows everything. I still do fact checks, of course. I’m trying to be as careful as possible. I’m trying to take down my own father, and if I take even a step wrong, it’ll be over for Mother and I.”

You sigh, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you pat his back softly. Seungmin keeps his hands to his side the whole time, afraid to cross the line although you’re glued to him.

“Father has ears everywhere Y/N. He probably knows how serious I am with you and wanted to test you. I’m sorry you had to see all of that.”

“Test me?”

“Yeah. Whoever decides to stay with me after knowing everything will earn his approval.”

“Has anybody else gone through that?”

“No,” he answers. “Believe it or not, you’re my first girlfriend.”

You raise your eyebrow. “Believe it or not? Of course I do, it’s obvious that you had no dating experience!”

“Y/N,” he calls out. “You’re here to say goodbye, right?”

Seungmin has pulled you away, sitting up and waiting for you to do the same. “It’s okay. If I were you, I’d be so disgusted at myself too. Don’t think about me, just think about what’s best for you.”

“You never… killed anyone, right?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll never do that. You have my words.”

“I trust you, Seungmin,” you state. “I asked myself again and again, but my answer remains the same. You’re not a bad person and I trust you. I know you by heart, and I’ll love you as long as I can.”

You wish you could promise only boy you’ve ever loved an eternal love—it sounds beautiful, something that lasts forever. But you know better than to give Seungmin empty promises. He’ll probably break your heart if life doesn’t allow him to change his world, but you’re willing to take the risk.

Seungmin releases the breath he seemed to be holding for the past few minutes. “That’s my girl,” he praises. “That’s all I could ask for.”

“Let’s only think about now, okay? You’re not alone anymore, you have me.”

You cup his cheeks and capture him in a loving kiss, basking in the warmth of his body when he scoops you into his arms. Seungmin’s gestures still feel hesitant, but you convince him with every kiss, with every sweet word you utter against his lips until he finally melts and kisses you harder, each kiss more ardent than before.

“You’re never lacking in my eyes, don’t forget that,” Seungmin tells you, enunciating each word clearly so you’ll let it sink in. “You’ve always been more than enough. Everything I could ask for.”

You only grin, pecking his swollen lips one more time before allowing yourself to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat.

Both of you let your own images of the future loom over you for so long, feeding yourselves with doubt and fear.

Now it’s time to let go.  

more a/n: i spent a long time writing this, i hope this is still good and not boring! i’m happy that my first story in 2020 is for seungmin. the ending is somewhat bittersweet, but it was the only option that felt right to me.  

[1phoenixfeather]

31 day December challenge #13

Hello,

sorry for being a bit late. I have been feeling really down for a few days and trying my best to get out of it. It actually ended up that I screamed for help to a friend of mine who help me out a bit, sure it ended up to be a concept. But maybe I give that story  shot another time.

This tho, was really fun and I might actually end up writing up some continuations on this. Got the idea from pinterest btw, and here is the picture with the concept.

I hope u have a great advent and I hope you guys enjoy todays prompt.

Hero followed Vigilante, aware of the color of the blue color of their hair meant they could read minds. Which meant they had to be careful of their thoughts and actions. This dungeon-like hallway was filled with people who either had made any crime or maybe had annoyed Vigilante. Or had a power that was dangerous and uncontrollable.

Hero turned to a door with a sign, “don’t even think that thought, Hero.” Vigilante exclaimed and gazed at them. The sign said; do not engage. Hero swallowed and got curious about who was in there. 

“What is the meaning of this?”

Vigilante sighed and opened a small piece of the door, it was dark in the cell. But there was a girl in the corner, she had white hair and looked like she was tired. Vigilante slammed the small opening shut, “I encountered her as I patrolled the city. She was out of control and a danger to others if I hadn’t been able to read minds I hadn’t made it out alive.”

Hero knew but had rarely seen anyone with white hair. To control the elements required extreme control and calm not to disturb the balance or even hurt anyone else. “You know what happened to her to lose control?” If she even had control before that or learned. Too many couldn’t control their powers.

“Her whole family died and I don’t think ever learned control fully.” Vigilante gestured them to keep going, but Hero couldn’t leave a poor girl to a dark cell. “Hero, don’t…”

Hero smirked at them, pulled their black hair back. “We don’t want them to turn bad do we” Hero had seen these cases and would avoid it if possible. 

“Hero don’t…!” Vigilante outburst but Hero turned into a ghost and entered the room. The girl cried and had summoned a small fire in her hands and even had a small dome of wind around her.

The darkness made it possible for Hero to match even in physical form. But just in case they kept the ghost form, “hey… You want some company?” Hero came closer and realized how strong the wind was around her, was this a defense? 

The girl turned fast to see the dark cell, sending a stream of wind to the wall. All got through Hero’s ghost from, “who’s there?” Her voice was small and light. Deep from crying for a long time they guessed.

Hero turned to their physical form and knelt down, “I’m Hero, I want to help you.” 

The girl shook her head and turned. “No one can help me now. I JUST WANT MY FAMILY BACK!” It echoed through the walls and Hero turned to ghost form when the wind circled through the whole cell. How had Vigilante been able to read this girl’s mind? It was like her actions were separate from her thoughts.

“I know, I know. But if you don’t want to be here all your life…”

“JUST GIVE ME BACK MY FAMILY!” The girls screamed and the fire became bigger. Hero quickly realized they had to be totally honest with her, that would at least make her easier to handle. “AREN’T YOU A GHOST YOURSELF?!”

Hero got a bit closer, “that’s not how it works and no one can give you your family back. But I can help you feel better and control your power.” The girls cry outburst into a loud mess and the wind called down into a mild breeze, “I can teach you control and get you out of this terrible place. You could stay with me.”

“How are you gonna teach me control, Ghostie?”

“I have struggled most of my life with my power, I got no help from any of them in the orphanage where I lived on and off. No one wanted a kid who constantly disappeared.” Hero got back to their physical form, held a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder.  “I didn’t know how to get in or out of tither states and could be a ghost for days at the time before being seen again.”

The girl calmed down even more, “you really can make things better?” She curled up and looked so small.

Hero brought her into a hug, a hug Hero would have needed at her age. “I can try and you want to know a secret?” She nodded as Hero smiled, could really get attached to this girl. “Your pain will be easier.”

“Okay” that was all she could say and all she needed to say for Hero and Vigilante to understand. The opened and Hero carried her out, she winched at the sight of them. But Hero reassured them calmly.

Hero smirked at Vigilante, “try to go back to the real Villain, huh?” They suggested to Vigilante who didn’t look very happy but surely was happy to get this young girl off their hands.

If you like my work, please click this link -> https://ko-fi.com/phoenix_feather711

[lilikags]

Game Plan (Kenma Kozume)

Gamer soulmates do exist, huh. 

Pairing: Kenma Kozume x female gamer reader  Type: fluff, soulmate au Before read notes: The game referenced here is Epic Seven, sorry if you are confused but I think you get the idea... right?

You sighed. You didn't know what to do. It was gym class, the last class of the day. It was your least favorite class. They were doing volleyball, and you knew just about nothing about it, even though you had been forced to play it for years. You figured you'd forgotten how to play.

After changing into your gym uniform, you started to think about what you were going to do after school. It was a Friday, meaning that it was the weekend as soon as school ended. You were going to play games, since that's what you usually do. Roana's coming out today, huh. I guess I'm going to pull. She seems good. I have enough to pity in skystone, and I've got about 400 bookmarks. So, 80 summons without using skystones, and  3,800 skystones'll be used up if I do end up pitying. If  I just do the daily missions, it'll take me around probably 80 days to get that back, not including the daily sign in prizes and the Re:Birth event, if I get stuff from that- (1)

"(y/n)! (y/n)! (y/n)!" you heard a voice call you. Looking up, probably after the third time you were called, you asked, "What's up?"

"Geez, your head's in the clouds! What'cha thinking about?" you best friend, (b/f/n),

"Hmm.... well, just what I was going to do later," you replied, knowing that (b/f/n) could see through you like just-polished (does that makes sense?) glass.

"What were you going-" (b/f/n) was interrupted by the teacher, who had started the class. She sorted the class into 4 groups, with 2 games going on at a time. You and (b/f/n) were separated, so you couldn't talk during class. You mostly just stood there and walked around, looking like you were trying. During your second game, your team and (b/f/n)'s teams played each other. (b/f/n) was really into it and made you participate for once.

When class was over, you went to the locker room to change, and as you were about to put your shirt on, (b/f/n) did a jump scare on you, which made you jump.

"What the heck, (b/f/n)?" You always hated jump scares, especially from (b/f/n), because her hands were always cold. Cold hands on bare skin (A/N: it sounds weird, but you're in the locker room. changing.) is always the worst.

"Heh! Got'cha again!" (b/f/n) laughed. You sighed. You finished changing and left the locker room. You started to think about your game plan for Epic Seven. (A/N: it's an amazing game, check it out!) You weren't too far into the game, and you'd just entered midgame by being able to auto Wyvern 11 and want to focus on building a golem team. You had already built and 6-starred Cermia, your nuker, and wanted to build Cecilia, your tank and defense breaker. (2) You were thinking about using either speed/hit sets or health/def/hit sets, when (b/f/n) scared you again.

"Can you just stop that already?" you asked (b/f/n), getting annoyed from her jump scares.

"Y'know, (y/n)..." (b/f/n) started.

"Yes?" you answered, curious to what she was going to say.

"Why don't we go to the mall later?" You were surprised that you didn't expect (b/f/n) to say that. It seemed very (b/f/n) though.

"Since when have I willingly gone to the mall?" you asked, not wanting to go.

"I heard there's a new anime store there~~" (b/f/n) tried to convince you. That was the reason you were going to go. You and (b/f/n) bonded over anime years ago, and you always watched every season's most popular anime. (3) So even though you spent more time playing games than watching anime, you were always on top of the trends and still loved it.

"Okay, I'll go," you answered, trying to hide the fact that you were actually excited.

Riiiiiing! Riiiiiing! The bell rang, meaning that the school day was over and you were finally free. You and (b/f/n) walked towards your lockers together, since they were right next to each other. You listened to her talk about fashion and other things like that. She'd gotten into that recently and was all over it.

Both of you finished gathering the stuff you needed over the weekend, and while at your lockers, you and (b/f/n) had decided to drop off your backpacks at (b/f/n)'s house, so that you could talk the whole day. You don't talk too much, but (b/f/n) does, and you don't mind her talking much.

(b/f/n) wanted to go to the clothing shops first. She had to go to some family reunion soon, so she had to buy something fancy. You accepted, knowing that (b/f/n) wouldn't forget about the anime store, because ever since she discovered Kimetsu no Yaiba: Demon Slayer,  she's been all over it too, and you were 99% sure that new anime store would have Kimetsu no Yaiba merch.

You didn't know much about fashion, so (b/f/n) picked out the clothes for herself and asked you for a second opinion. While she was picking out clothes and trying them on, you had nothing to do, so you thought about the build you were going for. (A/N: for Cecilia, referenced earlier in the chapter) Your phone was almost dead, and you wanted to save the remaining battery in case your parents called or something. So, you borrowed (b/f/n)'s pen, which she carried everywhere for a reason you haven't been able to figure out for years, and started to write out your plan for building Cecilia.  

                                                                *

"Hm?" Kenma noticed some pen marks on his skin all of a sudden. He and Kuroo were walking to practice when he noticed it.

"What? Did you notice something from your soulmate? ~~ Hmm~~~?" Kuroo teased him, knowing what was up.

"Mhm. She wrote something."

"Hmmm? Let me see," Kuroo leaned over to see what was being written.

Cecilia-

- Speed/hit set

- main stats: Effectiveness%, Def%, health%

- substats: effectiveness, def, health, eff. resist

"Hmmm... seems like game stats?" Kuroo figured. Kenma shook his head.

"Character build?" Kenma nodded, meaning that Kuroo's second guess was right.

"You know which game?"

"Epic Seven, I guess."

"Heh~~? So you do know. Maybe gamer soulmates do exist~~" Kenma didn't reply. The two walked into the court, and they began their daily volleyball training. Kenma noticed that there was something new written in few minute intervals. (A/n: does that make sense?) They had a common theme: Epic Seven builds. First was Cecilia, then Tamarinne, then Ravi, and so on.

"Woah! Your soulmate writes their skin?! Cool! Mine doesn't! I've tried lots of times, and they wouldn't respond!" Lev noticed what (y/n) was writing.

"I think they're for herself," Kenma muttered.

                                                                   *

"Wait, (f/n)!" (b/f/n) called out. You turned around. "Hm?"

"You're walking too fast! I can't keep up!"

"You're just slow."

"Oh, come on!" (b/f/n) had to run to catch up with you. As you entered the store, one thing caught your eye. It was an Epic Seven Poster, which you went straight to.

       (b/f/n) followed straight behind, and asked what this was about.

"It's an Epic Seven poster. I don't know who made it, but I'm buying it. It has Krau, Ludwig, Aither, Vildred, Destina, Yuna, Ras, Arky, Mercedes, Karin, Iseria, and best girl Angelica in it. It's totally worth." You explained, putting on a smirk and feeling like you're the smartest around.

"Oh, you really like this game," (b/f/n) said.

"Yeah, you didn't know? All this time?" you said back, trying to get at her for those jump scares.

"I just didn't know you liked it this much. Maybe I'll give it a try."

"Wait... really?!"

"Uh, yeah."

"We're going back to your house and getting you this game once I'm done here."

"Once WE'RE done here."

"Yes, once WE'RE done here. Yes, yes."

The two of you walked around, excitedly looking at the different merch they had there. You ended up buying lots of stuff, since you're a collector and love collecting things. Once the both of you got to (b/f/n)'s house, you took her phone out of her hands and downloaded Epic Seven. You charged yours while you were at it, and you gave it back to her once you got back and it loaded. Even with the tutorial, you explained everything in detail, and (b/f/n) knew she couldn't stop you, so she just listened and figured it would make understanding the game easier.

You had tons of notes on your hand at this point, so you figured you might as well write (b/f/n)'s username on there as well. You wrote it, along with her discord server, since (b/f/n) had gotten it recently and invited you to her server.

                                                                            *

Kuroo was staying over at Kenma's for a sleepover, and they were playing Smash Ultimate. (A/n: if you don't know what this game is, you live under a rock.) Then, Kuroo noticed some more notes on Kenma's hands.

"There's more."

"Hm?"

"Your soulmate wrote more. Let me see~." Kenma lifted his hand from the controller for once, and Kuroo spotted a discord server and an Epic Seven username.

"Ooh, maybe they want you to join a server?"

"No way. It's probably for herself again. There wouldn't be any need to tell me."

"Let's join it! I want to see who's in it. Your soulmate'll be there!"

"I don't really care."

"I know you'll join it later 'cause you're curious."

"I don't really care."

"Well, I'm joining it."

"It's rude to just join other people's servers without their permission-"

"Whoever gets the link is welcome~~" Kenma sighed. He couldn't stop Kuroo at this point.

→ kuroo hopped into the server.

(b/f/n): Uh, how'd u get the server invite? idk who u r.

kuroo: I got it from my friend. His soulmate wrote it on her hand.

(b/f/n): Ah, I know who you're talking about. I think.

kuroo: Ooh, great! Let's introduce them!

(b/f/n): OMG YAAAS. I wanna see how their ship turns out~~

kuroo: Great minds think alike, let's take this to private chat

(b/f/n): 'kay- got it!

(y/n): You know I joined the server, right?

(b/f/n): ...

kuroo: ...

→ applepi joined the party.

applepi: Well, you can write your plans here. I don't mind.

(y/n): I don't mind either.

(y/n): Hey, applepi, if you're my soulmate, text me.

applepi: later

(y/n): now.

(b/f/n): wow, hasty now, eh?

(y/n): I just want to confirm.

(y/n): and when I read the word "hasty", i immediately thought of Haste. pretty high on the tier list imo.

kuroo: what?

(y/n):

       (y/n): That's mah boi Haste. Ever since Melissa event. tho W. Schuri and A. Vil are higher on the list but they're ml so they're hard to get.

applepi: He's cool, but Roana's better.

(y/n): she ain't even out yet. tho best waifu now.

applepi: well, it's because she gives the revive buff... vampiric touch isn't that great compared to revive

kuroo: can you just take this to private

(y/n): thank you

Placeskip brought to you by Haiba Lev.

Soulmate: So, you're (y/n)?

(y/n): yeah. Wanna try going out? It seems pretty interesting how people instantly fall in love with their soulmates. I wanna test a theory.

Soulmate: ....

(y/n): I'm an expert on Epic Seven. I know "cheats". well not really, but farming gear gets better when you do it my way.

Soulmate: sure. ok.

(y/n): actually, I don't know your name yet. what is it?

Soulmate: Kozume Kenma. Just call me Kenma.

(y/n): vid call?

Kenma: .... not yet.

~~~END~~~ uwu

Extra! bc this is the 1st chappie! :)

"Hello?" Kuroo answered.

"Can you see us?" (b/f/n) asked.

"Yeah, can you see us?" Kuroo asked and answered. We both nodded.

"I think he's cute! If you don't hurry up, I'll take him~~" (b/f/n), the scare and provocation master told you.

"He's mine already... baka," you muttered. Kenma heard it, and both of you blushed.

Hello, it's Lili! I hope you liked my terrible first fic!

Some notes:

- (1) This whole time, I was talking about Epic Seven. It's a great game.

- (2) Def break/decrease defense- debuff that decreases the opponent's defense by 70%

-I'm not an expert at E7, I've only been playing since the SSB (Seaside Bellona) banner (July 2019) so I'm not that great. And it was the first gatcha game I really ever played besides Food Fantasy and Love Nikki, but those don't really count.

- 2174 words 

- Suggestions/comments/constructive criticism/grammar suggestions all appreciated!

Edited 5/10/20. Posted on tumblr: 7/4/20 Edited on tumblr: 10/12/20 Note: There are pics on the Wattpad chapter, but I couldn’t put them here (I lost them when I changed computers :/). Check it out there if you’d like to see the pics!  Credits: Original header image is from Igor Karimov on Unsplash.

[fanficsaremylifeline]

Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Summary:

Tired of Tony and Steve's constant fighting and bickering, the other Avengers sentence them to couple's therapy.

***

“DAMN YOU, STARK!”

Ugh, it was way to early for this, Tony was only two coffees in and dealing with Steve required at least two more cups. His holy coffein intake didn't seem to matter to Steve though, as he came storing into the living room, interrupting Tony and Rhodey's highly intelligent discussion about Jeopardy.

“What?”, Tony shot over; he was however pretty sure that he didn't want to know and most certainly didn't care.

“When the milk is empty, just throw the damn carton out! Is that so hard?”, Steve moaned and gestured around with the empty carton.

“And who says it was me?” Steve was completely right, it had been Tony. But before he'd admit to that, hell'd freeze over.

“Please, can we not argue about it like five-year olds? Just throw out the milk so I know to get a new one.” With a sigh and an exasperated and frankly quite condescending eye roll that Tony did not miss, Steve turned and walked out again.

“For fuck's sake”, Rhodey groaned, once the door had closed behind the super soldier. “Correct me if I'm wrong, JARVIS, but that puts the milk-fights somewhere in the mid-twenties, right?”

“It was indeed the 26th time Stark and Rogers have fought over the milk”, JARVIS reported. “Add that to the 19 discussions about profanity, 23 about appropriate levels of music during night time, 11 about Star Wars, 17 about Star Wars before Captain Rogers had seen them, 28 about how to make proper coffee, 24 about cars vs motorbikes, 16 about Monopoly and 8 about how to pronounce GIF. Together that makes 172 in the last 16 days.”

“You kept fucking count?”, Tony groaned. “you Rainman...”

“No, not Rainman. I currently feel like something between Ms Doubtfire and Mary Poppins. So either you two get your shit together or I'll turn all Nurse Ratchett/ Ms Trunchbull on your asses, capiche?”

“Yes, Mum...”

“Just get your damn coffee”, Rhodey grumbled and turned his attention back to the rerun of Jeopardy.

“Ok, but hear me out.” Tony pulled up the holographic model to show Bruce what he was talking about. “If we manage a miniscule version of the arc reactor, the Hulkbuster wouldn't be just some giant armour, but could fulfil some minor automated functions.”

“What kind of automation are we talking about here?” Having that powerful a reactor comprised into something that was supposed to take down Hulk, without blowing up an entire city block... Bruce wasn't too sure about that.

“Mostly for movement. We're talking about copious amounts of weight here, and without some form of automation, Thor'll be the only one who can actually move in it.”

“Yeah, I get that. It's just... Does it have to be arc-technology? Last time it was Hulk against Ironman, I almost blew up half of New York and was this close to giving you a heart attack.”

“But that's why we need to make it smaller so...”

“TONY!”

Ugh, not again. Steve stormed into the workshop and stared Tony down.

“Steve, please. Me and Tony are very busy and...”

The super soldier barely graced Bruce with as much as a fleeting glance and pointed right at Stark. “Next time you're hungry, stay the hell away from my leftovers!”

“Right, because I would voluntarily eat your sprouts with cabbage and shit”, Tony scoffed and turned back to the Hulkbuster model.

“Every time I put my name on it. And of all the Avengers you're the only one disrespectful enough to ignore that.”

“Oh, so now I'm disrespectful?”

That was it for Bruce. Those two could continue for hours like that and Bruce was not gonna do that to himself. And, as much as hulking out might help to get those two idiots in line, Bruce really was not keen on doing that either.

Neither seemed to notice him leaving the lab and after the door had closed behind him, Bruce leaned with a heavy sigh against the wall. “JARVIS? What's the count?”

“193.”

.

“Boss, your presence is required in the briefing room.”

“Oh, come on.” Tony hated being interrupted mid-project with a passion. “Scale 1-10 how important is it?”

“According to Agent Romanoff it is at a 17.”

“Fine”, he groaned, put the wrench down and trudged upstairs. It couldn't be an imminent mission, JARVIS hadn't sounded any alarms, so there was probably no need to worry.

Or maybe there was, at least judging how all the Avengers stood around the table, eyeing him sternly.

“Where's the fire?”

“For weeks, you and Rogers have been at each other's throats”, Clint began, and Tony was already done.

“Right then.” Tony turned on his heel and walked back towards the door. The locked door. “What the fuck, J? Unlock the door!”

“I am not authorized to do that.”

“Excuse me?” Tony stared at the camera. “You are my AI. My command trumps every other command you're given.”

“Not if I deem it crucial.”

“Traitor!”, he hissed before turning back to the Avengers. “Taking over my AI comes with dire consequen...”

“Shut it, Stark”, Nat interrupted and motioned for him to sit back down next to Cap.

His hands raised in mock-defense, he complied.

“And now listen, both of you. Your bickering is making everybody miserable.”

“Amen to that”, Wanda threw in.

“We're not that bad”, Steve stated, and Tony nodded along.

“JARVIS?”

“In the last 4 weeks alone have been 256 incidents. This number accounts only for altercations within proximity to the tower and all tech linked to my server.”

Granted, Tony got how that might be annoying. However... “That is so not on me.”

“Excuse me?” Steve turned to Tony, pure offence written all over his features. “Clearly the team cannot excuse your behaviour or they...”

“It's on you both”, Natasha made clear. “And everybody suffers for it. So you left us with no choice: you're being sentenced to couples therapy.”

“No.” Both Tony and Steve stared at her with wide eyes, their jaws on the ground.

“You can't be serious”, Tony protested once he caught himself again. “We do not need therapy!”

“Tony's right”, Steve nodded.

“See?” Tony gestured between himself and Rogers. “We're agreeing on something! There's absolutely no need for any type of counselling.”

“Your opinion doesn't matter”, Banner made clear.

“Yes, it does! I run this damn team.”

“And I finance this damn team”, Tony finished Steve's reasoning.

“As your doctors, me and Helen already signed off on it. And so has Fury. You're going and that's it.”

Fuck. Tony slumped back in his chair. Therapy. With Rogers.

“Everything is handled with utmost discretion”, Vision explained. “The SHIELD-approved psychologist has already signed a NDA and should arrive at the tower as we speak.”

“THE FUCK?”, Tony yelled out, “our appointment is NOW?”

“So neither of you can weasel out of it”, Rhodey shrugged.

That was the worst part about all this: his honey-bear being part of all this. It felt even worse than JARVIS being part of this conspiracy.

“Fine”, Steve just groaned, “Let's get this over with.” With that he got up, looking at Tony all expectantly until he too, followed suit.

“Conference Room C”, Nat fake-smiled and waved them away.

Tony was in no hurry to get there any time soon and inspected the spectacularly unspectacular white walls of the hallway.

“Come on!”, Steve complained.

“Why?”

“Because we shouldn't let the doctor wait!”

“I couldn't give less of a fuck about that doc or your annoying need to be perfectly on time.”

With an eye roll, Steve just turned and strutted off towards the conference room. Fine with Tony; he could very well do without the nagging.

He was gonna get them back; Nat, Rhodey, Clint, all of them. And if it was the last thing he'd ever do; Tony was gonna get his revenge.

.

Mark was nervous, immensely so. He was about to start counselling Captain America and Ironman! How in the name of everything that was good and holy in the world was this real life?

It was incredibly bizarre; as a kid he had collected the Captain America baseball cards and just two weeks ago he gifted his son the newest Ironman action figure; his daughter never went to sleep is she didn't have the Avengers-blankie.

But there wasn't time for more than two deep breaths, the door opened and in walked Captain America. Keep it together!

“Hello, Mr Rogers, the name is Mark Simmons; it's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise”, he smiled and shook the outstretched hand. “Please excuse my partner's tardiness; it's his form of protest.”

“Don't pretend like you want to be here”, Stark scoffed as he walked through the door, before he turned to Mark. “Good day, doctor. Just so you know, up until ten minutes ago, neither of us knew about this...” - he waved his hands around, gesturing between the three men - “arrangement. And to be perfectly honest, neither of us really fancies the idea of therapy.”

“Your honesty is appreciated”, Mark smiled. “Since I'm already here though...” He motioned for the two to sit down and, less willingly than anything else, they complied.

“Well, since neither of you know what to expect from me or our meetings, let me explain what it is I do. My name is Mark Simmons and I specialize in business psychology; you could say couple's therapy for a co-workers. What I'm here to do, is to get the communication going.”

“Oh there is no issue there”, Tony rolled his eyes. “This one's more than vocal about what I apparently keep on doing wrong.”

“Not apparently”, Steve hissed.

“It doesn't seem to bother the others.”

Oh dear. Not even five minutes in and Mark already feared the worst; this would be a tough one.

“I understand that your situation is a difficult one”, he commented, when he finally got a word in, “since you not only work but also live together. But that's why it is important for us to get to the bottom of it all, of where all this tension stems from.”

“We don't like each other”, Stark shrugged”, what more is there to it?”

“More than you'd think. I do need to say right away that this will only work if you are honest with me and each other. In return I assure you that I will be transparent about any and all methods and intentions.”

“That does sound reasonable”, Rogers nodded. Still, even though he seemed to be more open to the whole idea than Stark, the Captain was just as apprehensive; he just tried to hide it.

“No promises”, Stark made clear and Mark could only smile.

“Thank you for your honesty, Mr Stark.”

“Tony.”

“Right then. If you'd be willing I would like to hear some of the typical arguments you have, so I can get a better picture of the situation.”

“Ask JARVIS, he keeps a log”, Tony snorted.

“It is not my job to counsel JARVIS” - whoever that was - “you two are my clients, so it's from you I'd like to hear it.”

“He's just got one to many sticks up his ass”, Tony shrugged and toyed around with a screwdriver he got out his jeans pocket.

“No, he's just a sloppy and spoiled prat, who never learned how to share and live with others.”

“I am not sloppy! I mean sure, I can get sloppy in bed...” He left the rest unsaid, and a smug grin played over his lips.

“You see”, Steve groaned, “everything is a joke to him! I – honest to God – can't remember if I've ever had a serious conversation with you.”

“Well, maybe I don't want to have a serious conversation with you”, Stark shot back.

“Well, doctor”, Steve forced a smile, “I guess there you have it.”

Wow. This was gonna be just great.

.

“Hey Tones.” Rhodey, that traitor, walked into the lab and shot Tony the smuggest grin. “How was your first session with Dr Simmons?”

“You're an asshole”, Tony grumbled and turned his attention back to the motor he was repairing.

“Thanks dear, I love you, too.”

“Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking?” Tony must have looked sufficiently pissed off, since the smugness in Rhodey's look changed to something sombre.

“Me and the rest of the team were thinking that whatever is going on between you and Rogers can't continue like this. It's breaking the team and it's breaking the two of you as well. So you're gonna deal with it.”

“And what if I don't?”

“Then we're gonna lock you two in a room with Hulk.”

“Proactive choice. Just gotta warn you: this is gonna end in disaster.”

“Can't be worse than it is now.”

.

“So why don't you just throw the empty milk carton out?”

It's been thirty minutes and the two Avengers were still fighting over the damn milk. But, instead of giving Mark the chance to dig a little deeper and guide the conversation towards what really upset them, they kept on talking over him. If their last four sessions were anything to go by, they probably forgot Mark was there.

“I have more important things going on in my head to check if I finished the milk or whatever.”

“Right because it's too much to ask for you to take these three seconds to check that.”

“Yeah, but guess what, Rogers: I don't owe you shit.”

Ah, finally, they got to a bigger issue. For a few moments they just stared at each other, Tony's defiance head-on meeting Steve's confusion.

It was the super soldier that broke the silence. “That has nothing to do with me wanting you to do this for me. It's just the proper basis for a bunch of people living together.”

“And why am I the only one that gets your speeches? Clint drinks the juice right out of the container, Vision has zero instinct about privacy and walks right through walls, Thor eats everybody's pop tarts and I don't think I can recall a single time that Wanda cleaned the microwave. So please, Captain, what is it about me that is so unbearable or well, more so than the others?”

“Because you do it on purpose!”, Steve cried out. “All that bullshit didn't start until about two or three months ago. So what the hell changed that you felt the need to be such a pain?”

“Because I can't allow myself to like you.” Tony all but spat the words in Steve's face, got up and turned to Mark. “Thanks, doc. For everything.” Not sure whether it was meant sarcastically or not, Mark just stared after Ironman as he walked out.

“Well”, he eventually cleared his throat. “I guess we can stop talking about milk, leftovers and swearing.”

“Yeah...” Until now, Steve had stared at the closed door, only now he turned to Mark. “Let's just hope he shows up next time...”

.

He didn't.

But Steve hadn't really expected anything else. All week, Tony had kept away from Steve, not once did they run into each other.

After Tony missed another appointment, Steve got worried. Fine, he had been worried ever since Tony had told him that he couldn't like him, but now he allowed the worry to come through.

“Bruce?” The scientist was – as he had been for the last few days – by himself in the lab.

“Steve, hey”, Bruce smiled and waved for Steve to come inside. “What's going on?”

“Have you seen Tony these last few days?”

“Of course not”, Bruce chuckled, “he's in his house in Malibu.”

“Wait, what?” Steve couldn't help his face from dropping.

“Yeah, he said something about some issues with the LA branch of SI.”

“Oh. Right then. Thanks.” With an awkward wave, Steve turned and walked out, as Bruce's concerned looked burned into the back of his head.

Right, SI LA needed its boss every now and again; it made plenty of sense for Tony having to go there somewhat spontaneously.

Something in Steve's gut felt so very off about it though. Disappearing from one moment to the next, not even cancelling their sessions with Dr Simmons... Something was not right and Steve felt somewhat responsible.

Unfortunately, very impulsively so; as much as he hated flying, Steve found himself in the next machine to California.

All through the flight, he had thought about what he wanted to say, but now that a cleaning lady, Miriam, led him through the villa, his head was pretty empty.

In a wide light-filled room, Tony sat on the floor, screwing around with something that looked like it had once been part of an Ironmansuit.

“Tony.”

“Rogers, what the fuck do you want?” Stark didn't even look up.

“I want to check on you.”

“Could've just called.”

“Would you have picked up?”

“Probably not”, he admitted, still not gracing Steve with as much as a fleeting glance. “Thanks for flying out though and have a safe journey back to New York.”

“Tony, I'm not leaving until you talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?”, Stark groaned, threw the wrench on the ground and glared at Steve. “Seriously, what do you need to hear to fuck off?”

“The truth.”

“How original.” With a roll of his eyes, Tony got up and wiped the oil off his hands. Steve doubted it was of use, the rag that had probably once been white was almost black by now.

“Tony, please.”

“Why?” He strutted right up to Steve but he wasn't about to let himself be intimidated. “Why do you care?”

“I care about you and our team. And I thought we have gotten close, I do consider you a friend. And that's why I care about you.”

After staring at Steve for a few moments, Tony dropped his head. “Fuck”, he mumbled. “Right here goes. I'm sorry for screwing with you these last weeks. It was all my fault and I'll be good from now on and we no longer need to deal with the shrink. Deal?”

“No”, Steve made clear. “I flew to LA so we can work on what has the entire team upset and isn't good for the two of us either. So tell me, what I can do to make you more comfortable around me, and I'll gladly do it.” He took two careful steps towards Tony. “Please.”

“I appreciate that, but there's nothing you can do.”

“You said you can't allow yourself to like me.”

When Tony stayed silent, Steve continued: “Is it because of Howard?” It had to be, Tony's Dad was the only thing that connected them profoundly enough for Tony to hate Steve.

“What do you think?”, Tony scoffed. “The great and amazing Captain America, Howard's greatest ever creation, I just never could measure up to.”

“Tony, I'm so sorry...”

“Can it”, Tony interrupted him, “because it's not your fault. You were dead then, it had nothing to do with you and everything with Howard being the worst.”

Wow.

“But you don't want to end up like your Dad, so you forbade yourself to like me”, Steve finished the explanation and interpreted Tony's shrug as affirmation of his assumption. “So why be a pain in my ass then?” This part, Steve didn't really get: Tony could just stay away from Steve, the Tower gave more than enough opportunities for that.

“Just because”, Tony mumbled, as he actually blushed. What the hell? As hard as he tried, Steve couldn't remember Tony Stark ever being flushed.

“That's not an answer.” Steve was aware that he was entering dangerous territory; a cornered Tony was even more dangerous than he normally was. But what was the alternative? Him and Tony just avoiding each other, pushing it all way down until it all blew up in their faces?

“Rogers, please...” Tony's voice went softer, almost a whisper, the exact opposite of how Steve had expected Tony to react.

“Tony, you're seriously worrying me.” Steve took another step towards Tony, who looked like he just wanted to bolt. “Please, what's bothering you?”

“You are, damnit!”, Tony yelled out. “The fact that you're nothing like the damn asshole I pictured you to be throughout my childhood. The fact that you're actually a pretty great guy. The fact that I like you, no, that I like you too damn much.”

Steve couldn't follow. The part about Tony's childhood and Howard, he got. But the almost desperate look in Tony's eyes... “I get that all that, with me, Howard was, or still is...” At Tony's exasperated face drop Steve halted mid-sentence. Was he missing something? Judging by the way Tony looked at him, he probably did.

“You really don't get it, Rogers, do you?”

His meek shrug was only met with a Stark-typical eye-roll.

And then everything seemed to happen at once. With two big steps, Tony closed the last bit of distance between them, grabbed Steve by the shirt collar, pulled him down and pressed their lips together.

And Steve's mind just went blank. Of all the things he'd expect Tony to do... This was not one of them. Frozen in shock, Steve could do nothing but let Stark kiss him.

“Here you go”, Tony shrugged, once he broke away and took two steps back. “Now if you'd please fuck off, I'd be very grateful.” With that he turned and motioned to walk off.

“Tony, wait.” Steve heard himself speak, before he realized he had done it. But it was all so very much in a haze, and Steve wouldn't bet a lot on this being real life and not just a dream, so before he knew it really happened, he grabbed Tony's arm, pulled him back and immediately their lips met again.

After a few shocked moments, Tony's arms wrapped themselves around Steve's shoulders.

Steve had no idea what was really happening, but he didn't care, because it felt amazing. It was electrified, passionate and all the little things that irked them about each other seemed to vanish, making room for desire to run wild.

“Rogers”, Tony mumbled after a while, “what is...”

“Shut up”, Steve shot back, not in the mood for talking.

“Works for me”, Stark chuckled, and, with his hand on Steve's neck, he pulled him down and deepened the kiss even more.

Was this a good idea? Probably not. Did Steve care? Fuck, no.

.

When Steve woke up the next morning, he wasn't quite sure where he was. He definitely didn't know this enormous bed, and these silky bed sheets were not to his taste.

Oh. Right. He was in LA. In Tony's bed. And very naked.

Shit.

What was more, he was alone in Tony's oversized bed. There was no genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, but a note.

Steve,

sorry, had to dash. Help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen, if you want.

I'll see you in New York.

TS

Shit. With a loud groan, Steve fell back into the cushions. What did he think? He didn't, that was just it. Or he thought with the wrong body part. Sure, it felt good, very much so. Kissing someone hadn't felt that good ever since he kissed Peggy. And then... Passion just took over.

That was admittedly the weird part, Steve wasn't someone who just let himself run over with desire and just jumped right into bed with whoever kissed him. Well, he and Tony had a lot of pent up tension between them and now they just had the need to get it all out.

I'll see you in New York.

Well, maybe things would be a little more relaxed between them from now on. But Steve doubted that.

.

“Omigod”, Nat sighed, “I can't believe I'm saying this but I liked it so much better when they were fighting.”

“Tell me about it.” Clint fell down next to her on the couch. “The way Cap just silently stares at Stark is seriously creepy and so awkward.”

“And Stark barely ever talks any more when Steve is in the room and flees as soon as he's got the chance”, Wanda observed.

“If it weren't those two, I'd say they're boning”, Clint giggled, until he stopped dead. “Omigod. Do you think that Steve and Tony...”

The assembled Avengers just looked at each other with wide eyes.

“It would explain so much”, Nat eventually broke the silence.

“All that bickering and fighting is just unresolved sexual tension”, Bruce commented.

“We gotta fix them!”

“Right”, Nat scoffed, “because they both would react so positively to us walking up to them and telling them to bone.”

“Maybe we should stick them back in therapy.”

“Because that went over so well the last time.”

“What then?” Rhodey looked around the group. “There's gotta be something we can do!”

“We'll leave that to you”, Nat suggested, “you're the only one who can get through to Tony.”

.

With a ping the elevator doors opened and Rhodey walked into the penthouse, already dreading in what state he was about to find his friend. “Tones? You in here?”

“Platypus!”, Tony beamed and staggered towards him with wide open arms. Shit. He was really hammered.

“Here”, he handed Rhodey a bottle, clearly not realizing that it was already empty. “Drink with me!”

“How about we switch to water?”, he suggested and took the still half-full bottle of whiskey out of Tony's hand.

“You're so boring”, Tony moped and walked over to the kitchen cabinet, where he got another bottle. “So boring”, he repeated after a generous sip. “Just like Steve. He's so stupid and boring.”

“Yeah, I know.” Gently, Rhodey guided Tony to a couch and all but pushed him down. “I'm not worried about Rogers, though.”

“You should...”

“Nah, I'm only responsible to look after you.”

“I'm fine”, Tony claimed, however swaying and slurring a lot more than fine would suggest.

“I know you are. That's why you ran off to LA, avoid Steve since you're back, lock yourself in up here and drink that much again.”

“I'm really fine”, Tony repeated. “Look!” He T-posed and shot him a kissy-face. “I'm so good.”

“Right, then you won't mind talking to Steve, would you?”

“But I don't want to.” Not unlike a child throwing a hissy fit, Tony crossed his arms in front of his chest; all that was missing was Tony sticking his tongue out at Rhodey.

Well, if Tony was gonna act like a four-year-old, then Rhodey'd pack out his parental voice. “And why don't you want to talk to him?”

Thankfully, he was too drunk to pick up on James' condescending tone. “Because he's stupid.”

“And why is he stupid?”

“Because he is.”

“Tony.” This was gonna be a tough one.

“Rhodey”, he mocked him.

“Well, if you're fine, then I can go.” He got up off the couch and, as he had expected, he couldn't get two steps until Tony stopped him.

“Don't go”, he mumbled, grabbed his arm and pulled him back on the couch.

“Alright, I'll stay”, James smiled. “You gonna tell me what has you upset though?”

Tony clutched a pillow and looked down on the floor. “We... we had sex.”

“You did what?” Oh damn. They were right, the Avengers were damn right about them.

“He... He just didn't get it, so I showed him. And then he kissed me back. And then...” Instead of finishing his sentence, Tony took another sip from his bottle.

Well, damn.

“Sounds to me like you and Steve have quite a bit to talk about...”

“Talking fucking sucks”, Tony groaned and slumped against Rhodey's side.

“It helps though”, he shrugged and put his arm around Tony's shoulder.

“Still sucks”, he mumbled and snuggled into the embrace.

Rhodey had lived through enough of Tony's drinking sessions to know that a) Tony was about to fall asleep, that b) Rhodey would not be able to move until he woke up again, that c) the chances of getting thrown up on were at least in the high seventies and that d) this disaster human being was his absolute favourite person in the entire world.

“I love you, Tones.”

“I love you too, Honey-bear.”

.

5 days. 5 days since Steve had flown to LA to confront Tony about their 'situation'. 5 days, since Tony had grabbed his shirt and kissed him. 5 days, since Steve kissed him back. 5 days, since Steve had just about the best night ever. 5 days, in which Steve couldn't think about anything else than the surprisingly soft lips, the taste of coffee, the strong hands on his body and most of all, how good being with Tony had felt.

And with all that came a realization: that flutter in his stomach that came every time Steve was around Tony was not dread, awkwardness or anything like that, it were the butterflies in his stomach going into overdrive.

When Steve finally gathered enough courage to talk to Tony, he ended up standing in front of a locked door.

“I'm sorry, boss has restricted access to anyone.”

“JARVIS, please.” In the worry about his friend, Steve didn't give too much thought to him currently trying to reason with a bodiless robot. “You can't tell me that he's doing alright. Let me please talk to him.”

“Since he is not in imminent physical danger, I am not authorized to ignore boss' orders.”

“Is he drinking?”

“Yes.”

“With his history, it's more than dangerous for him to be locked up all by himself with these amounts of alcohol, don't you agree?”

“I do”, he admitted and the door opened for him.

“Thanks, JARVIS, you're the best.”

.

“Tony?”

Damnit. JARVIS was really keen on disobeying all of Tony's orders, was he? “One of these days”, he groaned towards the general direction of the camera, “I'll donate you to a high school.”

“I believe my fosterlings there would be less determined to kill themselves and be more grateful for my unwavering support.”

“You sure as fuck aren't supporting me”, Tony hissed, as Steve walked all through the penthouse in search of him. If Tony was lucky, Rogers would respect the sanctity of the bedroom, where Tony had created a make-shift workstation on and around the bed.

“I have your best interests at heart, even if you might not realize it.”

For fuck's sake.

“Tony?”, Steve called again, closing in on Tony's location.

“He is in the bedroom”, JARVIS announced and boy, if looks could kill, Tony would have to install new security cameras.

“Can I come in?”

“Whatever”, Tony grumbled and the door opened to the sight of a nervous Steve.

“Hi.”

“Rogers, I don't know what went wrong with you that you can't seem to get I don't want to see you.” Tony didn't even bother with looking up at Steve and hoped to whoever was in charge of hurried prayers that the super soldier would see it as nonchalant and not recognize the pained insecurity. Which, by the way, fucking sucked.

All of this, of what happened these last few weeks, months, fucking sucked.

It started to suck, when Tony got to know Steve for who he really was: not the absolute pinnacle of American perfection who Tony would never be able to measure up to, but instead.... Sure, Steve was all that, but so much more.

As much as Tony pretended to be exasperated and annoyed by his in all honesty at times pathetic tries to catch up to modern technology, his determination was really commendable and quite adorable. Same with his annoying righteousness; knowing about Steve what Tony knew now, he could recognize and appreciate how passionate Rogers was about the things most important to him. And that undying loyalty... But not – as Tony had thought – to the US army, the government and blindly following orders, but to the people closest to him. Even to Tony. Who had been quite the dick. But even though he didn't understand a word of it, Rogers often listened to Tony's engineering rants. And listening to Steve going on and on about injustice or whatever, Tony just got roped in by that seemingly boundless passion.

And with all that wrapped up in *that* package... Yeah, Tony really had fallen for Steve. And he hated himself for it.

Why of all people did it have to be Captain America that made Tony's heart skip a fucking beat? And why in the name of Edwin Jarvis did Tony 'confess'? Why couldn't he have just stuck to the fucking plan, ride these damn feelings out and be enough of a pain so Steve would hate him?

But no, Mr Impulsivity just couldn't leave well enough alone and keep it in his damn pants, could he?

“I'm sorry, Tony”, Steve eventually apologized.

“For what?” For being a giant idiot, who didn't get what was going on? For pushing what should have been left alone and thusly making everything a million times worse?

“Yes, to all of those.”

Tony didn't even realize he had said all this out loud, but whatever. Not like all this could be even more fucked up...

“But there's a bit more I need to apologize for.” Almost cautious was Steve's movement as he walked up to Tony, who sat on the bed. “I'm sorry that I'm so slow and dumb when it comes to feelings. I'm sorry I brushed all of your actions off as you being nothing more than a childish pain in my ass and some other choice words I feel like leaving out of this right now”, he chuckled and yes, that was indeed a blush creeping up Steve's face. “Because I know you're not like that.”

“Oh?”, Tony shot over, rife with sarcasm. “Then what am I like?”

Steve locked eyes with Tony, sincere and earnest. “You're so generous, intelligent, caring, admittedly quite funny and supportive of everybody important to you. I know you like to play all that down, hide behind the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist tag, but that's all it is. A tag. But that passion, that fire... You light up every room you enter and that's not because of your genius-billionaire-bullshit, it's because of your big heart.”

Huh.

As much as he hated to admit it, Tony was speechless and could only stare at Steve with wide open eyes.

“And I'm especially sorry that it took me so damn long to realize that all that has roped me in long ago.” Steve scooted closer, bringing them mere centimetres apart. “It took LA to make me understand that this weird feeling in my stomach whenever you're around, had nothing to do with dislike or annoyance. More like the exact opposite.” As he spoke, Steve's voice went quieter as he leaned in closer, and before Tony could compute any of this, Steve's lips were on his.

.

“What the fuck?”

When Nat opened the door to the kitchen, she couldn't quite believe what she saw: Tony, making coffee and Steve's arms wrapped around his waist, with his head rested on Tony's shoulder.

“Hi Natasha, want a cup?”, Tony asked, barely looking over.

“I'm good”, she waved him off and pulled Clint, whose jaw was still on the ground, to the table. “Let me guess, therapy did you two a world of good.”

“We might not be that pissed about it any more.” Tony turned around, and leaned against the somewhat blushing Steve.

“Thanks for forcing us to go”, he grinned.

“We told you.”

“Yeah... Guess that wouldn't make you the smartest person in this building after all...” Steve grinned over at Tony, who smacked Steve's side.

“It's definitely not you, I could have told you that long ago”, he shot back with a smirk.

“Oh really?” Steve raised his eyebrow and Nat felt like she was about to get sick.

“Oh god, what have we done”, Clint hissed over, staring wide-eyed at Tony and Steve. Flirting. Actually flirting.

“We've created a monster, that's what we did.”

[sunnytumbies]

just follow my yellow light (and ignore all those big warning signs)

Warning! This fic includes mentions of depression, anxiety, needles (in a medical setting), and dealing with grief/trauma. Please stay safe should you choose to read! 

A/N: This is also a more plot-heavy fic, with most of the fiendery occurring in the very last sections, so please be aware of that!  Word count: 8499 Title: “Yellow Light” by Of Monsters and Men

The thing about hospitals is that they’re all the same.  

Cal understands why people hate them—really, he does—but sitting here on the exam table, the paper crinkling beneath him, a blood pressure cuff tightening around his bicep, he can’t help but feel...safe. Understood.  

He’s biased, he guesses. He grew up in one, doodling on prescription pads with crayons, running his favorite toy car along the floor (weaving around the nurse’s practical clogs on his hands and knees, look, Mom, look at how fast I am!), his mother Marianne bouncing him on her lap as she updated charts on her computer even though he was far too old for that, stray blonde hair that escaped from her tight bun tickling his cheek. Every once in a while, she’d turn to him with a wide, warm smile.  

The whirring of blood pressure machines were his lullaby. The smell of antiseptic was the closest he got to the smell of home, and was in fact the very smell that followed him home from work with Marianne, permeated the whole house along with her tired sighs and her whispered arguments with his father Henry when she thought Cal was sleeping.  

So, yeah. Cal likes hospitals. Don’t overanalyze it.  

The nurse—Alicia, today—gives him a small, tired smile, the expression of someone who genuinely cares but is too busy to do much about it. “Dr. Moore says everything looks good, Cal. Just make sure to keep an eye on your lungs. Don’t bind for too long and keep doing your injections around the same time each week, okay? You know where to find us if you need something.”  

“Thanks, Alicia,” Cal says, but she’s already whisking out the door. Cal wonders how many patients she has. Alicia oversees the hospital volunteer program, and even though Cal's known her for years, he swears her face is as young and beautiful as it was when he was a child. She’s funny and whip-smart and strong and she likes Cal best, he thinks, but lately she’s looked so tired. 

He wonders if she’s one of the nurses who really cares about all of her patients. He wonders if that kind of thing is sustainable.   

Alicia cares, he thinks.   

He’s walking down the corridor, idly rubbing at the bandage across his forearm—and yeah, okay, if he has to name one part of the hospital experience that he could do without, it’s the blood draws—and he’s so fixated on reaching under the bandage to rub at the stinging skin there that he almost runs directly into Sweater Guy, who reaches out preemptively to steady Cal by the shoulders. 

“Shit, sorry,” Cal mutters reflexively, then looks up to see that it’s him and, well, fuck.  

Cal’s been volunteering at the hospital for six months or so, now, answering call buttons for the nurses and giving directions to confused family members and just grunt work, really, something—nay, anything—for him to put on his resume, and at every single shift he’s volunteered for, he’s seen Sweater Guy.  

He’s Cal’s height but twice as skinny, collarbones jutting out underneath his sweaters (his endless sweaters, usually layered over collared shirts and rolled up to the elbows, no matter how swelteringly hot it gets outside). The sweaters bother Cal more than they should, because they all look expensive, and yeah, sue him, he’s a little bitter, because he buys one new pair of shoes a year and calls it splurging. He’s a candy striper, Cal thinks. He wears a pair of yellow-tinted glasses that Cal cannot for the life of him make sense of, constantly slipping down his nose (and yes the yellow compliments the rich brown of Sweater Guy’s skin beautifully, not that Cal has noticed, thanks). He has what Zara always insisted is sex hair, expression perpetually annoyed, like he always has something better to doing.  

And he avoids the fuck out of Cal.  

“It’s not on purpose,” Zara said one day a few months ago, leaning conspiratorially  over their little table in the hospital cafeteria, mouth full of mediocre tuna fish sandwich, because Zara is a godless heathen who enjoys tuna fish sandwiches. “He’s just...busy, you know? He doesn’t avoid you more than he avoids anyone else.” 

“Except he does,” Cal muttered, toying with the bottle cap from his soda. More than once he’d made eye contact with him in the hall, and then watched him completely switch directions, head ducked down low over his shoulders.  

Not long after that, Zara--who had, until then, occupied the third room in he and Amy’s apartment--left school to attend a community college program for mortuary science, because Zara is, in addition to being a godless heathen, a chiefly ridiculous person, and now Cal doesn’t have anyone to complain to about this.  

It shouldn’t bother him, except...Cal is likeable. He is. He charms nurses as though that’s what he’s getting volunteer credit for. Babies smile at him on the street. He’s likeable.  

So what the fuck, you know?  

“I apologize,” Sweater Guy says now, and Cal is hyper-aware of the guy’s chapped lips, of his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down nervously in his throat. He makes himself look away.  

“You apologize? I’m the one who didn’t see you, dude,” Cal says, and God damn does that yellow sweater he’s wearing look nice on him. It shouldn’t. Yellow is categorically the worst color. Cal’s pissed.  

Sweater Guy actually cracks a smile. “Yes, well. I’m glad we avoided a collision.”  

And just like that, he’s walking off, and Cal doesn’t know what he’s supposed to make of it, if it means anything at all, but surely first contact after six months of silence means something.  

“Hey,” he calls out before he can think better of it. “What’s your name?”  

Sweater Guy stops and blinks, surprised, then pauses for a minute like he has to think about it. “Oh. My name is Quincy Washington.” He swallows. “What’s yours?”  

“Cal.”  

“It’s nice to meet you, Cal,” Quincy says softly, and Cal watches him walk away until he disappears around the corner.  

* 

Cal has a routine. He’s never been particularly organized, never been the type of person with color-coded planners or who lays out his outfits the night before, but he has a routine for check-up days: after picking up his inhaler refills and testosterone from the hospital pharmacy, he’ll treat himself to an iced chai tea latte with almond milk, hot if it’s cold outside or he’s feeling adventurous. He shifts his weight from foot to foot as he waits in line to place his order, his lips flicking up into a small little smile as he pulls out his phone, realizing he finally has an update, deciding to send it to the group chat he still has with Amy and Zara: 

I figured out his name!!  

Amy texts back immediately, and Cal’s little smile splits into a full-blown grin. ???????????

Sweater Guy, Cal types, shifting forward as the line moves. It’s Quincy Washington, apparently. 

Cal grins when he sees a message from Zara appear: r u sure he gave u his real name? that sounds pretty made up ngl :* but hey u finally talked to him!!!! told u it wouldn’t be hard!!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 

Cal rolls his eyes a little, but good-naturedly. Zara was always convinced that Cal has a crush he’s not addressing, a conspiracy theory that has infected Amy as well, because no one fixates that hard if they DON’T have a crush, Cal, come on. Cal maintains that while he isn’t blind, there are about a million things more interesting about Sweater G--Quincy than how attractive he admittedly is. 

Cal: In my defense, he talked to me first, and it’s only because I ran into him. 

Zara: charming! did u gaze longingly into his eyes? did he gaze longingly into urs?

Cal rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. Well it wasn’t his EYES I was looking at. ;) (I  was looking at his stupid yellow sunglasses.) 

Zara: silly! u should’ve asked him if he needs roomies. it would be an honor if my old room went to The Cause :)))

Cal’s lips droop, the smile sliding off his face as he pockets his phone. He knows Zara meant nothing by it, but he’s been compartmentalizing the roommate situation until now, and it’s not something he can particularly deal with at this moment. He doesn’t have to, as it happens--at that moment, an impatient “--sir? Sir, may I please take your order?” breaks through his mental abstraction, clearly not for the first time, and he shakes his head to clear it, cheeks flushing as he approaches the counter, mumbling apologies. He orders his drink, iced chai tea latte, please,  making sure to leave a hefty tip in the jar. 

Eager to spare himself further social anxiety, Cal grabs his drink as soon as it’s placed on the counter, mumbling another apology as he grabs a straw and walks briskly out of the exit closest to the parking lot, sipping eagerly at the drink (he swears it’s even better than usual) and what do you fucking know. 

“Quincy,” Cal says when he reaches his car, clamping down on the little thrill he gets from knowing the name. He swirls the drink a little like some kind of movie character with a glass of wine. He’s chill. He’s cool. 

“Oh. Hello, Cal,” Quincy says sheepishly. He’s standing at the front of a car—not just a car, the car—its hood propped open in a universal sign of defeat. “I seem to...be having some car trouble.”  

“No fucking way,” Cal breathes out, because some things are too strange to be coincidences.  

“I’m...I’m sorry?”  

Cal shakes himself. “No, you’re good, sorry. It’s just that, uh. This is your car?”  

It’s a Mercedes AMG, and it’s been parked next to Cal’s car every day for a couple months now. Cal’s awe hasn’t dulled with time. He figured it belonged to some paranoid doctor, rich and extravagant and scared enough of car crashes to buy a luxury armored SUV. The fact that it belongs to Quincy isn’t strange all on its own—because sure, whatever, Quincy is well-off, that’s a thing that happens to people—but the odds of the day he realizes it belongs to Quincy being the same day he learns Quincy’s name after months of wondering and silence?  

Well.  

“Yes. It’s practically new,” Quincy says sadly, “but I’m hopeless with cars. It’s probably something rather foolish.”  

And then, because Cal is a masochist, he finds himself saying “Well, I know a thing or two about cars,” and yeah, okay, this is happening, apparently.  

“You do?” Quincy’s expression is nothing short of hopeful. “Cal, I would be incredibly grateful.”  

“Of course,” Cal says, already moving toward the car, because who is he to say no to a beautiful boy in a yellow sweater, to a beautiful car with its hood propped open? “It’s no trouble. Keys?”  

“In the ignition.”  

Cal forces himself to focus on the task at hand, even though sitting in the driver’s seat makes him feel downright giddy. He tells himself it’s the car’s immaculate leather interiors, the sheer novelty of sitting in a ridiculous, extravagant vehicle, and not the boy standing in front of the hood with his arms folded across his chest in defeat. He takes a breath.  

Although, he thinks as he twists the key in the ignition, surely this is an acceptable thing to be intrigued by. Why is unassuming Quincy, who looks no older than Cal, driving an armored SUV—and not just any armored SUV, but one that can sustain machine guns and hand grenades?  

He guesses people could say the same about him and his car, because the upkeep of classic cars is a bit of a bitch, but Cal’s beat-up inherited ‘59 Chevy Apache isn't machine gun proof, and it certainly isn't new. She's valuable, of course, but she was passed down to him, not bought fresh off the lot, and that value is probably tempered by years of dings and scratches. She's not a symptom of extravagance the way this absolute mammoth must be. So. Not the same, actually.  

When he tries to crank up the car, it makes a horrible grinding sound that he knows well, the needles on dashboard instruments shuddering. Cal takes great pains to compose his amused grin into something more sympathetic.  

“Good news and bad news,” he says, slamming the car door behind him reflexively before cringing. This isn’t the Apache, with its squeaky doors and stubborn latches, and that door alone probably cost more than Cal’s college tuition. “The good news is it’s nothing serious. You’ve just got a dead battery.”  

Quincy slumps a little with what Cal assumes is relief. “That seems manageable.”  

“The bad news, though,” Cal says. “Do you have jumper cables?”  

“No,” Quincy replies, ducking his head like he’s embarrassed.  

“See, that’s what I was worried about.” Cal gestures to his own car. He sips at his latte, and is genuinely alarmed to realize it’s almost empty. It’s delicious, but still, he’s only had the drink for twenty minutes at the most. “I don’t have mine either. I--” Cal considers the location of his jumper cables, in a heap in the living room of the apartment, leftover from a Skype debate with Zara centered on a story her classmate insisted was true concerning jumper cables and nipples. Cal doesn’t regret the use of a visual aid--he won the debate, after all, because seriously, have you seen jumper cable clamps, there is no way--but he decides this is not something he needs to share with Sweater Guy. “They’re at home. I can go grab them and come back to give you a jump, though? Our place is literally right around the corner.”  

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Quincy hedges, a little desperately. Cal sees him battling internally between the need to be polite and the need to get his car running again.  

“You’re not imposing,” Cal says, “because I offered. Seriously. Apologizing to me when I ran into you! Thinking you’re an imposition after I offered you something! You’re too nice for your own good, Quince.” The nickname slips out without Cal’s consent, and he feels the tips of his ears warm.  

Quincy looks at him, tilting his head curiously. “I have an anxiety disorder,” he says after a moment, very plainly, and Cal feels like the biggest asshole in the world. He feels like an even bigger asshole because his knee-jerk reaction is to laugh, because what a mood, really.  

To his abject horror, the laughter actually bubbles out, warm and genuine and fuck, he needed it, but he can also feel himself blushing crimson, because Jesus Christ, Cal, this is not the kind of reaction you should be having to this information. “I’m sorry,” he manages after a too-long moment. “I’m so sorry, oh my God, I promise I’m not laughing at you. It’s just...fuck, we’re not allowed to be that blunt, you know?”  

Quincy inclines his head again, an unspoken question, and yeah, okay, you made this bed, Cal, now lie in it.  

“I just mean, like...okay. Example. I’m chronically ill, right? I have asthma, thanks for that, genetics, but anyway the point is that I tell people I’m sick and they’re like, get well soon! They don’t understand that I don’t...want that. They don’t get that I’m sick, and that it’s okay! That’s fine! If you’re sick, you either have to be dying, or you have to be overcoming it or some shit. I just…I wish I could introduce myself like hi, I’m Cal, I have depression and my lungs don’t work very well. But I can’t, because that’s weird, that makes healthy people feel awkward, and our whole lives are about making healthy people feel better about our fucking lives.” He takes a breath, a little more painfully than he would prefer because it's goddamn cold out. “I just mean...I don’t know. It’s refreshing.”  

Well, okay. Emotional intensity with Sweater Guy is not what Cal banked on happening today, but Sweater Guy is Quincy Washington, and now that he’s looking at him up close, he kind of feels like he’s demystifying him or...or something. The expensive sweater, he sees, is fraying at the sleeve from being picked at nervously. That annoyed expression, the one Cal always interpreted as aloof, is the face Quincy makes when his glasses start slipping down his nose. His sex hair is just...really good hair, perhaps a little mussed at the roots from a tendency to run his hands through it with the air of an exasperated father in a movie, and what’s wrong with that, really? 

Sweater Guy, as it happens, is just a guy.  

Anyway, Cal’s shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, feeling the full force of the straight-up monologue he’s just delivered, but then Quincy is saying “That’s exactly it” in this relieved goddamn voice, so maybe things are okay after all.  “What is that? Why do they make it so weird? It’s not as though it’s contagious.”  

“Right? I don’t know. I’m just kind of exhausted of healthy people.” He inclines his head, toward his car, moving to the driver’s side because, again, it’s cold as shit and his lungs ache and he really should get Quincy that jump. “I’ll go grab those cables.”  Something in the pit of his stomach grumbles at the movement, and he frowns, a reflexive hand coming up to rest on his belly. Weird. 

“Oh, yeah,” Quincy says, like he’s forgotten what the whole point of this was (and doesn’t that just make something warm pool in Cal’s chest, God, he’s so screwed), and casts a withering glance toward the hospital doors. Cal looks at him for a second, shivering underneath his layers in front of his out-of-commission car, and before he can think about it any further than that he’s saying “You can ride with me there and back, if you want? It’s awfully cold out.”  

Quincy positively beams. “I would like that very much, Cal.”  

Okay then.  

* 

Amy is doing an honest-to-God tarot reading in the middle of the living room when Cal gets home, complete with candles and a red cloth draped over their coffee table, and isn’t that just their whole relationship summarized. He throws Quincy a put-upon glance over his shoulder, and Quincy bites his lip to keep from laughing. Has Cal mentioned that Quincy is attractive? God fucking damn it.  

“Permission to enter the divination room?” he says in lieu of a hello, and Amy startles, nearly knocking over one of the candles. 

“Cal!” Amy says, scandalized, staggering to her feet. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming! I would’ve gotten rid of these!” 

Cal can’t help but chuckle. “I’m not going to have an asthma attack from candles, Ames.” 

“You could! Go--go stand in the kitchen or something! Make your friend help me!” 

Cal gives Quincy a look, a sort of see what I have to deal with? shrug, and Quincy responds with an amused smirk. “I’d be happy to help,” he says in a tone that sounds like he’s honest-to-God fucking with Cal. “What tarot deck is that?” 

The kitchen is essentially attached to the living room, the two only separated by a narrow doorway, but Cal shrugs and takes this opportunity to wriggle out of his jacket and grab a soda from the fridge. He has a feeling he’s gonna be here for a while. As he reaches into the fridge, however, that strange little twinge deep in his belly makes itself known again, and he grimaces as a cramp seizes his insides. He closes the refrigerator empty-handed, leaning a suddenly-clammy forehead against the cool stainless steel. This does not bode well. 

“So how do you know Cal, again?” Amy is saying just as he’s composed himself enough to re-enter the living room. Quincy has migrated to the couch, at least, albeit with his back ramrod straight, Amy apparently having been satisfied that Cal is not in any immediate mortal peril. 

“He volunteers at the hospital with me,” Cal says before Quincy can say anything, and when Amy glances over at him, Amy mouths Sweater Guy over Quincy’s head. Amy’s eyes bulge, so Cal forges ahead before she can say something to embarrass him. “His battery died, so I came here for the jumper cables.”  

“Riiight, the hospital,” Amy says, a barely restrained grin in her voice, and God, when Amy tells Zara that Cal brought Sweater Guy home he is never going to hear the end of it.  “Did you put up the fliers, by the way? We’re really gonna struggle this month if we don’t get it figured out soon,” and Cal looks up sharply, idly placing a hand on his stomach when it protests at the movement. Why is Amy bringing up the roommate fliers now?  

“I know,” Cal says slowly, trying to communicate please don’t do this now with just a glance.. He sits on the couch next to Quincy, careful to leave a socially acceptable distance between them. “I know, Amy. But...no, I didn’t.” He wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve, his stomach starting to churn in earnest. 

“Cal,” Amy chastises, and Cal thinks he would prefer anger to disappointment. “Did you talk to anyone, at least? It’ll be easier if it’s someone we know for, like, negotiating rent and stuff.”  

“Um,” Cal says eloquently, but then Quincy is saying, “Actually, he talked to me,” and alright then, that took a turn.  

“Oh,” Amy says, skeptical, but her face has brightened nonetheless. “Really?”  

“That’s part of why I brought him with me to grab the cables,” Cal says, because he’s rolling with this, apparently. He really is never going to live this down. “To show him the room.”  

“I wanted to see it for myself,” Quincy says sagely.  

“Uh, yeah,” Cal adds lamely.  

Amy is giving him this proud goddamn grin, and Cal is having trouble looking at it, because seriously, it shouldn't be like this. Amy has left this whole roommate search up to him, which is a nice gesture—Amy could live with anyone, with her natural inclination toward small talk and her compulsive baking which is the least unwelcome coping mechanism and her goddamn optimism, but Cal, with his bound chest and testosterone injections, has a lot more to lose here. The thing is, Cal, for all his charm and his mock-flirting and his wolfish grins, has a hard time with people, so him bringing home a coworker (or whatever he's supposed to call Quincy—coworker doesn't feel right, and Cal's trying really hard not to overanalyze that) isn't exactly a common occurrence. Amy is a proud parent smiling at her kid for making friends on the first day of kindergarten, and Cal loves her for it, he does, but it also chafes against him like his chest binder on a hot day.  

"Well, go ahead," Amy finally says, breaking what could have turned into an awkward silence. "Don't let me stop you! I'm Amy, by the way. What's your name? I’m not sure I caught it." She glances at Cal as she says with a terribly unsubtle wink.  

"Quincy Washington," Quincy says in that same quiet way he told Cal. "It's wonderful to meet you, Amy. I’m a fan of tarot myself and you have an excellent eye for ambiance."  

"Thanks!" Amy beams, and Cal wrenches himself off the couch and ushers Quincy down the hallway before Amy loops him into a conversation about the history of tarot or some shit. Cal loves her to death, but knows she’s practically chomping at the bit. He won’t be surprised if she’s  texting Zara as he speaks. 

"You did me a solid, there, Quincy," Cal says quietly when they're far enough down the hall to be out of Amy’s earshot, hyper-aware of how sluggish he is. "We can just waste a little time and then I'll get you that jump."  

"May I see the room?" Quincy asks, and Cal's heart just about stops entirely. "I'm glad to have done you...a solid, but I do happen to be looking for a room to let." His voice catches strangely and unfamiliarly around the slang.  

Cal stares at him for a second. "Seriously?"  

"I am very serious. If you'll have me, of course," Quincy says then, rushing through the second sentence and looking self-conscious about it.  

"No, I just..." Cal says in something like disbelief, then shakes himself off. "Anyway. I guess I'll show you the room, then?"  

"Please," Quincy says, so Cal leads the way.  

"It's kind of small," he says apologetically, pushing open the door and flicking on the lights. They're Edison bulbs, and they cast the room in buttery yellow. "And obviously we'd move this stuff out of here if you moved in."  

Quincy doesn’t say anything, and Cal turns to see that his face is frozen in genuine, slack-jawed awe. It's more than a little endearing, and Cal tucks his fond little grin away before he speaks. "You're a book guy, huh?" 

"You could say that," Quincy breathes, and moves forward a little. "May I—?"  

"Go for it," Cal says, and Quincy reaches out to touch one of the bookcases.  

The room belonged to Zara until she moved out, the smallest room by far but also the one with the most windows, all against the far wall looking out toward the main road. Pushed against the opposite wall are three wood-paneled curio cabinets that Henry once used as bookshelves, packed tight with the books he cared about most in this world. Many of them are leather-bound and there is more than one special edition, all of them older than Cal's grandparents.  

"They're beautiful," Quincy finally says after a moment, "but why do you have rare books in your apartment?"  

Cal snorts, because it is so contrary to what he was expecting, but also because this is a valid question. "Honestly," he says, "I just couldn't bear to part with them. They were my dad's." The words are out before he realizes he's just dropped the dead dad bomb, so he forges ahead. "Uh, like I said, we'd get them out of here before you moved in."  

"Or you could leave them," Quincy murmurs, eyes darting back and forth as he scans the titles. "God, is that a livre d'artist?" 

On some level, Cal registers that this a very pretentious question, and also that there is just something strange about the way Quincy speaks, like everything he says has been polished beforehand. On another, baser level, he finds it frustratingly hot. "Uh, that sounds like a question I should maybe know the answer to, but honestly, these were my dad's thing. I haven't opened up any of the books since he died. I keep the shelves dusted, but I'm not much of a literature person."   

"Are you a book person?" Quincy asks.   

"Come on, you can be one or the other. People can like books without liking capital L literature," he says, turning to look at Cal with this ridiculously excited expression. It's kind of heartwarming. "You know, people who hate Hemingway but loved Twilight."   

Cal may or may not have the entire saga on the much smaller, far less decorative bookshelf beside his bed, but Quincy doesn't need to know that. "Interesting distinction. Yeah, I guess I am."   

"I knew it. Team Edward or Team Jacob?"   

"Wow I hate this conversation."   

Quincy smirks and turns back to the shelves with a quiet sort of reverence that makes Cal smile. It also makes his heart ache a little because it reminds him so much of his dad, but it's an ache that has dulled with the passage of time.    

"So," Cal says, trying to sound casual, "Are you a student?"  

"Yes," Quincy replies, still scanning book titles with a feverish intensity that skirts perilously close to lunacy. "I'm a senior. Are you?"  

"Yeah," Cal says thinly. There's still a chance, he tells himself, and has to catch his breath as his stomach cramps again. A low rumble has begun deep in his gut, like someone set it to simmer, his stomach doing lazy barrel rolls that make him swallow hard.  "Senior, too. Pre-med."  

"I'm a double major. Classics and Theology. Not the most practical, I know," Quincy says, sheepishly, like he's used to people reacting poorly to it.  

Fuck. God fucking damn it.  

"Oh!" Cal says, forcibly infusing his voice with something akin to enthusiasm. "That's really cool. Um. Side note, just by the way..."  

Quincy looks at him inquiringly. Fuck.  All at once, his stomach cramps harshly enough to have him seeing stars, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead again, and he can’t quite stifle a pained moan, clutching at his roiling insides, leaning against the doorframe for support. 

“Are you okay, Cal?” Quincy takes a step toward him, evidently not too worried about whatever Cal was going to say, looking more concerned than Cal would expect from someone who avoided the fuck out of him prior to today, and he gives a pained nod, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. Something bubbles in his lower belly painfully, and it hits him all at once. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, noticing all at once how his stomach is puffy, poking out under his shirt and over the waistband of his jeans, how the cramps are accompanied by a near-constant rumble and oppressive waves of nausea. “Sorry, I’m--I  just forgot to ask for—” He swallows again, hardly able to think about the damned chai tea latte, presumably made with full fat milk, churning around inside him. “I’m...lactose intolerant,” he manages, painfully aware that this is happening in front of Sweater Guy of all people. “I forgot to ask for almond milk instead of regular.” 

“Are you alright?” Quincy sounds alarmed, eyes darting from Cal to the door and back again. “Should I get Amy? Is it an allergy, or—?” 

“No, no,” Cal manages, laughing lightly. “You sound just like her, though. It’s just—” He grimaces, clutching at a twinge of nausea— “Just a pretty gnarly tummy ache. I’ll be okay.” He allows himself to rest a hand on his belly, straightening up through immense willpower. “Seriously, let’s just...move on, if that’s alright.” 

“Of course,” Quincy murmurs, still looking rather concerned. It’s endearing, Cal thinks, even  through the fog of nausea and the embarrassment tinging his cheeks red. “I believe you were saying something?” 

“Oh,” Cal remembers, and looks at the floor. "My dad's name was Henry Kline?"  

Quincy freezes. To his credit, he reigns in the incredulous expression relatively quickly.  

"Cal," he says instead, very sincerely, turning to look at him with sad, sad eyes. "Cal, I am so sorry."  

"Don't be," Cal mumbles, looking down, rubbing at the back of his neck. His stomach lets out a loud, angry rumble, and he flushes an even deeper shade of crimson. "I just, uh, wanted you to know from me. 'Cause if you live here, you gotta understand that people are gonna talk. They always do, about us. 'Specially when they hear our last name."  

"Cal Kline," Quincy realizes all at once, and then, with that painful sincerity again, "I wouldn't listen."  

Cal smiles despite himself. "Thanks, Quincy."  

Quincy clears his throat, straightening up from where he's been crouched to pour over the books. Cal is sort of impressed at the sheer muscle tone it must’ve taken to forget he was doing a deep squat. "Cal, I have something to tell you as well."  

This is it, Cal thinks. He doesn't want the room. Doesn't want to live with the bereaved Klines. It's too much. Just give him the jump and go back to never speaking again. The anxiety stirs up his upset stomach, and he clamps down forcibly on a burp that tries to burble up. His stomach lets out a low groan in response to the air being forced back into it.   

"I was studying under Professor Kline," he says instead, and oh, okay. Which is to say, what the fucking shit, how many motherfucking coincidences can there feasibly be in one 12-hour period, but okay, it's better than what Cal was expecting. "I was a teaching assistant, and I was helping him restore his book collection." He glances back to the shelves. "I should have recognized them immediately, but I never saw them on the shelves..."  

Cal's glad Quincy isn't looking at him anymore, because he can't vouch for what his face is doing. The ache Henry left is healing, dulled with the passage of time, but it still hurts if Cal picks at it. Quincy studied with Henry. Quincy knew him in a way Cal never did, never will, his brain screams, and something about that is just, well. His stomach flips, something cramping low and urgent in his belly. 

Quincy is beautiful, and he is wearing a yellow sweater, and he likes Cal's car, and the only reason he cares that Cal's last name is Kline is because he doesn't want to be inconsiderate to Cal.  

So, fuck.  

"Well, now that we've got the awkward parts out of the way," Cal says, and Quincy flashes him a genuine smile that  is positively blinding. He recovers from his seven consecutive heart attacks before continuing, "I can show you the rest of the apartment."  

“Are you sure?” Quincy glances dubiously at Cal, who still has an arm curled around his belly. “You’re awfully pale.”

“That’s, uh—” Cal laughs nervously, feeling sicker and sicker by the moment. “Yeah. Maybe you could just...show yourself around?” At that moment, a low whine fills the apartment, a sure tell that Amy has gotten into the shower, and Cal’s stomach tightens. “Minus the bathroom, I guess. Sorry, our pipes do that when we use the shower. I’m just gonna, uh, have a seat in the living room.” 

Quincy doesn’t question this, and Cal sends up a silent cry of gratitude to whoever may be listening. He settles into his favorite crease on the sofa, looking furtively over his shoulder to make sure Quincy is occupied with checking out the patio before pressing both hands to his grumbling stomach, feeling irritable movement beneath his palms. Oh, it hurts, cramps squeezing at his lower belly like a vice, a sticky, hot nausea plaguing his tummy.  He tries in vain to soothe the ache, rubbing his hand across his bloated stomach as gently as possible, but the touch only sends up a dangerous belch that leaves him panting, hanging over the edge of the couch, the taste of chai and stomach acid coating his mouth revoltingly. 

Quincy’s self-guided tour doesn't take long; their three-bedroom student apartment doesn't exactly contain multitudes. Cal has thankfully composed himself before Quincy pokes his head into the living room. “I have seen what I need to see, I believe,” he says with that stiff formality that seems to crop up occasionally. 

"Yeah, that's the place! Nice and straightforward,” Cal says brightly, as convincingly as he can without moving around too much. “Any clutter you see is mine because Amy is an android, probably."  

Quincy smiles, and Cal's cardiac health continues to worsen, God those fucking smiles. "Can you prove it?"  

"Irrefutably. Evidence: runs for fun. Consumes spinach, also for fun. Wakes up and goes to bed at the same time every day. Possibly irons her clothes, but I'm still not sure on that one."   

"She sounds...pretty human. Perhaps you're the android."  

"No, I just have depression," Cal says before he can stop himself.  

Quincy throws his head back and laughs, and it makes Cal feel so fucking warm. Has he mentioned recently that he is completely screwed in a way that has nothing to do with his cramping stomach? 

"God, Amy hates when I joke about it. It'll be nice to have someone who understands around here when you move in."  

Quincy straightens up. "When I move in?"   

"What can I say. You sold me. If you want to live here, I want you to live here." He smiles, small.   

It was kind of a done deal when you said you worked with Henry Kline, Cal doesn't say. The way you talk to me like I'm a normal person and the fact that you're fucking gorgeous are just bonuses. 

"There is one more thing," he says, steeling himself. Much of his life is spent steeling himself. He pauses, waiting for Quincy to make a joke, to grin another heart-stopping grin, but he just looks at Cal curiously. "I'm trans. I wasn't born a male but I am and always have been a boy. I bind my chest and live as a male and use he/him pronouns. If you don't understand it, that's okay, but I will demand a certain level of respect in my own home, and it'd be preferable if that respect was voluntary." The speech is well-oiled from use, but Cal's voice still shakes.   

"Is that all?" Quincy says, and Cal feels his entire body slump in relief, straightening back up a little when his stomach protests. "I mean, of course, Cal. I'm not ignorant."   

"Oh, yeah, right. Thank you, gentle cis man. I worship at the holy altar of your allyship." He says it like a joke, but it takes effort to get out, because despite everything, it's taken him years to give this speech to a receptive audience and not feel like he's been granted a favor.   

It's taken him years to say I'm here and not have it come out as I'm sorry.   

When he told Zara, it was this whole thing, Zara reaching across the table to clasp one of Cal's hands in both of hers, you know I'm here for you, right? Cal's Facebook messages are full of Zara sending him every post she sees with the word trans in it, and like yeah, Zara, you're very sweet and supportive, but sometimes Cal just wants to be Cal, you know?   

It's just that Cal's known Quincy for all of a few hours and he already feels so goddamn understood.  

"I'm happy to pay whatever Zara’s share was," Quincy says, "And if you would be willing to leave Professor Kline's books, I would be honored."  

"Consider it done," Cal says, smiling a little. He’s almost able to forget about the slow, sinister ache in his stomach. Almost. "Though get ready for Amy to talk about it all the time. She’s really not on board with them being here."  

"I mean...religion isn't my cup of tea either, believe it or not, but I saw an original King James Bible. That alone has to be worth at least twenty grand. Literature person or not, that's...a really valuable thing to be keeping in your rented apartment."   

Cal's eyes flit to the tiled floor, and he can feel Quincy's gaze on him, and he knows he's biting his lip, something he does often enough that one side of it is slightly larger than the other.   

"Oh...Cal, I apologize. I didn't mean to intrude." It's that stiff formality from their almost-collision at the hospital again, and when Cal glances up, Quincy is backing away from him, hands folded behind his back. "I'm sure they're insured, or...even if they're not...I just mean, it's your business, of course. I apologize."   

"No, it's fine." Cal clears his throat nervously. "You're right. Zara and Amy just kind of went a little crazy helping me get rid of his stuff when he died, and they wanted to donate them to the university. I probably should have let them, but..." He shrugs, wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, presses his lips together around another burp that he forces down, wincing at the added pressure. "It's not like these are even all the books he had. There are probably hundreds in the storage unit. But I'm ridiculous, and they were just his thing, and for some reason the thought of them just sitting in a dusty room with boxes of his old clothes and the lawnmower and literal cobwebs just didn't sit right, so."   

"So you brought them here." Quincy looks at him like he understands, and isn't just that the worst fucking thing? "I get it."   

"I kind of do want to donate them, as it turns out," and wow, okay, Cal didn't realize that until he says it out loud. "I'm just a little worried because I haven't exactly been...maintaining them, or whatever. I wouldn't even know where to start. If I'm going to let the university open up the Henry Kline Memorial Library or whatever the fuck, I don’t want to give them dusty books with cracked spines, you know? He would've hated that."   

Quincy clears his throat, licks his lips a little, and wow, okay, Cal's feeling things again. "I don't know if this is something you'd even be comfortable with, but...I could continue the work I was doing with Professor Kline. We were in the middle of restoring his collection, and I learned his technique well. I still have access to the labs. I could take it one book at a time. With your approval, of course."  

Cal blinks. "Um...yeah. Yeah, okay. That's super cool of you, thank you."  

"Are you kidding?" Quincy blurts, and then scratches the back of his neck a little like he's embarrassed. "I mean, it's just that you're doing me a favor. Henry Kline's book collection...I'll admit that I've missed them."  

Cal can't help the little smile that tugs his lips up, and seriously, he has to get these feelings under control, God, the guy hasn't even moved in yet.   

Before he can say anything, Quincy's face softens into that aching sympathy again. "And Cal...I miss him, as well. He was a good man."  

Cal kind of wants to cry, so suddenly and desperately that it takes his breath away for a second. His stomach churns audibly, and Quincy looks at him in alarm. 

"Quincy," he says when he gets his voice back, "How soon can you move in?"  

Quincy beams. "How soon will you have me?"  

* 

When Amy gets out of the shower, Cal is sprawled across the couch, openly groaning, clutching his stomach with both hands.  

"What happened to Quin--Cal?” Amy blurts out as she enters the living room, rushing over to the couch when she takes in Cal’s sickly pallor. 

“Finally drove him back and jumped his car," Cal groans, still marveling that he was able to hold it together long enough. He may or may not have had to pull over on the way back, heaving up a trickle of stomach acid and chai tea latte onto the side of the road, at least as much due to anxiety as it was to lactose intolerance, but Amy doesn’t need to know that. "Says he'll take the room…" 

“Okay, that’s great, we’ll unpack that later,” Amy says, sitting gently at Cal’s feet, “But what’s going on with this?” She doesn’t wait for permission, laying a soft hand on Cal’s bloated belly, kneading gently at a cramp, ushering up a soft burp. Amy is sort of a miracle worker.

"’S gonna pay Zara’s share,” Cal murmurs, leaning into Amy’s touch, grimacing as the pressure ushers up a burp that brings up a wave of stomach acid. He swallows hard.  

"Again, that’s great, but,” Amy says, rubbing his belly in wide arcs, maintaining a steady pressure that does wonders for the cramps. “What the hell?” 

“I got anxious getting my latte,” he mumbles, letting his eyes slide shut. Amy’s ministrations are easing the worst of the nausea, and he is so, so thankful for her. “Forgot to ask for almond milk.” 

“Cal,” Amy says, all faint disapproval and warm concern. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“You were showering,” he whines, then whimpers a little at a particularly strong cramp, and Amy moves closer, applying a bit more pressure as she kneads at the cramp, massaging her other hand gently over the burbly places in his lower belly. “I made him show himself around. He didn’t even mind.” 

“Sounds like a dreamboat,” Amy says, her voice light and teasing. 

Cal doesn't know what to say to that that won't be self-incriminating, so he just says, "He really likes yellow."    

"I noticed that,” Amy agrees. "When does he move in?"  

Cal keeps his eyes shut, studiously avoiding eye contact. "Tomorrow."  

"Oh, wow, so soon! I can't wait to get to know him." Amy’s tone is completely genuine, probably working out what she can bake that properly conveys a message of thanks for living with us! She applies a bit of firm pressure unexpectedly to the bloat beneath Cal’s ribs, and he groans, feeling a flutter in his stomach as it tries and fails to expel a rush of trapped air. “Oof--please don’t do that again,” he manages, clutching at his chest. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” Amy says, sounding genuinely sad, and Cal slowly opens his eyes. “Just seems like you’ve got quite a lot of air stuck in there. Would you like some tea? Not chai, I guess...” 

Cal groans, shoving a couch pillow over his face. “I know. I’m an idiot. Oh, my tummy—” 

“Let me make you that tea,” Amy says lightly, giving his tummy a little pat before wrenching herself off the couch, and Cal loves the fuck out of her, has he mentioned? 

"I think you'll like him," Cal calls as Amy moves into the kitchen, deciding to take this opportunity to drop the bomb, adding more quietly, "Oh, and, small world, he worked with my dad."   

The rustling in the kitchen pauses, then starts again almost as suddenly as it stopped. "Does he...?"  

"Yeah, I told him. Didn't seem to bother him. He really likes the books."   

"The books," Amy murmurs, and oh God, not this again, but Amy is already following up with "Have you thought any more about what you're going to do with them?"   

Cal takes a deep breath and feels it stutter a little in his chest, reminding him he's been binding for a bit too long. "Yeah, actually. They were working on restoring the books when Dad died. He said he'd help me get them back into shape and I think I'll donate them to the university."   

"Oh," Amy says, pleasantly, and Cal reminds himself that Amy is good, that Amy is only doing what she thinks is best, what Zara told her would be best, that most rational people would question the wisdom of having cases of books worth thousands of dollars in an apartment not known for its impenetrable security measures. "That's really cool. He sounds like a really neat guy, Cal."  

Cal thinks of yellow-tinted glasses, of that scar on his face and the way he looked at Cal like he understands him. "Yeah," he says softly. "He really is."   

“Ginger or mint?” Amy calls, and Cal is thankful for the change of subject. 

“Ginger, please,” he calls back, carefully cupping his stomach with his palm, and takes a very deep breath. 

 *

A long while later, Amy has fallen asleep on his shoulder, a hand still splayed across his slightly-less-bloated belly, old episodes of The Twilight Zone streaming at a low volume on the TV. Cal can’t be bothered to move, too comfortable, too deep in thought, the churning of his belly finally soothed by Amy’s ministrations and a few shamefaced trips to the bathroom. 

Cal thinks about his dad every day, and that is no euphemism. He sometimes drifts past the extra room (Quincy's room, he thinks, something blooming in his chest in a way he doesn’t want to deal with right now) and sees his books, or catches sight of the scar on his knee he got the first and last time he and his dad went fishing when they were supposed to be studying for Cal's math test the next day, when a stray hook went straight through and he needed stitches, remembers the ice cream after, I'm not going to say don't tell your mom, but I'm going to say I won't if you won't, and he smiles, just a little (he didn't tell his mother). Every night he lays in a bed across from a desk that's been flush to the wall underneath the window since the day his dad built it, the one they picked out together at IKEA before Cal moved in, the one that had him muttering profanities for three hours on a blisteringly hot day in August while Zara’s mother, Virginia, poked her head in intermittently, how are those PhDs treating you, Dr. Kline?  Cal thinks about his dad all the time.  

It's just that he can't remember the day he died.   

It's just that he knows that he's the one who found the body, that he's the one who, somehow, called 911, who clung to Amy when the ambulance came, but he knows it the way you know stories about your fourth birthday party or your first day of school—more retelling than memory. Something you know because you're told.   

If he tries hard enough, he thinks he can remember what his uncle was wearing that day, what the perfume of the hospital secretary smelled like, but he can't for the life of him remember his dad's face, what the last thing he said to him was. And when it comes down to it, maybe he doesn’t remember what his uncle was wearing at all, maybe he just remembers him saying at the funeral, he bought me this tie, you know.   

You'd be surprised how many people come to a funeral for a professor, how many handshakes and hugs Cal got just for losing someone. How many looks of pity he got (gets) when they hear his name: Cal Kline, the guy who found his dad dead.   

And he can't even remember it.   

Psychogenic amnesia, Dr. Hodge told him in one of their first sessions, because yeah, when you're trans and you find your dad dead and can't fucking remember it, the one thing you spare no expense on is a really badass therapist. His brain couldn't handle what happened. He repressed it. It was the emotional shock, was the trauma, was the pain, yeah, Cal gets it.   

It's just that the one thing you should be allowed to hold onto are lasts, and Cal can't even remember his. He thinks of his dad and sees fishing, sees the lectures he sometimes sat in on, sees a receding hairline and eyes just like his and of course I still love you, sweetheart, daughter or son, you're family, and it aches.   

He wonders if Quincy's lost someone, if that's why he looked at him like that, eyes soft and understanding but not pitying. I get it, he said, and Cal believes him.   

Cal rolls that around in his head like a marble.  

I get it. I get it. I get it.   

Yellow's an awfully pretty color.