#it’s funnier because my mind is thinking too fast that my mouth can’t keep up

[etherealsworldvision]

Me (left) and my 3H Mercury (right) every time I have a thought

It’s a struggle….

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 7

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn wc: 7.4k

Part 6 || Part 8 || masterlist

[a/n]

I’m so sorry for the delayed update. Things are happening in my personal life that my writing has incredibly slowed down. 

To that anon who was asking for updates, I’m sorry if I made it seem like you were rushing me (in case you weren’t). Sometimes, I just tend to feel so pressured that I easily project that to others. 

Y’all been excited for this. Here you go, a drunk Tsukishima to make up for the slow update. 

AO3 link is on the masterlist in case Tumblr crashes on you from how long this update is. 

Your eyes widen at the current state of Tsukishima. You look around warily, checking if there’s any mutual classmate you know who is around. But with how dim the club is, the attempt to do so is futile.

“Tsukishima…” you protest while prying his hands away from your waist. 

“We’re in public!” You hiss at his behavior, but he’s completely unfazed. His hands keep creeping back at the spot they were rooted at. 

His facial expression doesn’t falter either. He’s still wearing that silly grin that looks nothing like his usual ones. “So? Didn’t you hug me publicly, right in the middle of the Sendai Gym?” he counters with a cocked brow as his elated grin turns to a clever smirk.

Oh God. What has Tsukishima turned into? He’s like one of those guys who hit on you, but the difference is you’re actually flustered by it. 

Even with his hands and gaze glued to you, you turn to the bartender. “How long has he been here?” you shout. “A while now,” the bartender shouts back. 

You glance at Tsukki’s consumed glasses again. It’s only one glass and two shot glasses. How can he be this drunk already? 

You don’t wonder too long before figuring it out. Tsukishima’s definitely a lightweight, shown by his level of intoxication at the moment even though in reality, he hasn’t had much to drink.

Why did he even drink in the first place? He said he doesn’t see the point of parties. Why is he here getting himself hammered? You grimace when you realize that there’s training tomorrow. You’ve scolded members before for such behavior and now they know better than to get wasted when there’s practice the next day.

You did not expect such irresponsibility from Tsukishima, who’s always exhibited exemplary behavior.

“You should go home.” You mean to sound strict, but with his body being a bit too close, your voice falters. 

He cups the back of your head and pulls you so that his lips are ghosting against your ear.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” he says haughtily.

It’s a very familiar scenario with a very different Tsukishima holding you in place. If he’s his usual self (sober and pissed off at you), you’d be teasing him for coming to this club. Instead, you’re the flustered one as his fingers brush your nape while his breath fans your ear. 

“G-go home, Tsukki,” you stutter as you feel his grip on your waist tighten.

“But why?” His hand on your nape travels down on your spine. “Didn’t you say I was welcome to go here?” The ends of your hair prickle up as he presses the warmth of his lips on your cheek when he pulls away slightly.  

It was almost the same scenario when you first saw him in this very same club - the whispering, the closeness, the incredible urge to feel his mouth on yours. The difference is Tsukishima himself. Unlike before when you two were fighting the pull of the temptation, this time, it’s worse because of his suggestive demeanor. 

“Stop it,” you chastise him with a little bit more conviction.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.” He withdraws until his lips are only an inch away from yours. 

You take a deep breath, collecting yourself before pushing yourself away from him. “Go home, Tsukishima. You have training tomorrow!” you shout to make sure he hears you without leaning close to him. 

He looks at you like he doesn’t understand shit. His tipsy grin is now wiped off, replaced with an  empty, clueless Tsukishima staring at you. You don’t falter though. You continue glaring at him. Luckily, it seems to  sink in his head after a few seconds as he finally stands up.

At the first step he takes, he staggers like a high school student who got drunk for the first time. You start to feel bad for him because he looks like he really is struggling with it while continuing to fiddle with his glass as if that’s the cause of his apparent dizziness.

You position yourself underneath his arm and help him balance himself. 

You groan as you wobble when he rests some of his weight to you. How can you momentarily forget that he’s a professional athlete weighing more than 160 lbs? You’re always surrounded by tall men, and this has made you think that that height is normal, when in reality they can crush you in a snap. 

You realize that Tsukishima is a lot more busted than you thought. You can see he’s actually trying to walk normally but is failing miserably. 

You’ve already talked to most of your friends so you don’t mind helping him get back home. Not that it matters. You’d still be helping him get back home even if you hadn’t. Aside from being one of your players, he’s also your study partner. You can’t just leave him be. 

With a very drunk Tsukishima on one shoulder, you hail a taxi and carefully make him sit inside. Your initial plan is just getting him a ride home, but looking at him now, you’re not sure if that’s the best idea. He might suddenly pass out. Who knows what will happen to him then?

You sigh as you get yourself inside the cab as well. 

You give the driver the address of the Tsukishima’s while he rests his head on top of yours. “This car is moving too much,” he complains with discomfort crisp in his voice. The vehicle is rather stable. It’s the alcohol in his head that’s making things shaky for him. 

Instead of letting him lean on you, you carefully settle his head against the headrest of the car seat so he’s leaning back instead of sideways. You kneel instead of sitting so you can use your hands to keep his head steady because he’s too darn tall. 

After a short while, he lets out a sigh of relief from the stability your hands provided. His features are more relaxed now that his brows are no longer scrunched up and his lips no longer pressed in a strained manner.

He opens his eyes and tilts his head a bit to look at you. He grasps one of your wrists as he gives you a faint smile that doesn’t resemble anything he’s given you, not even the dumb one he did at the club.

It’s a tender and genuine smile that softens up his usually stern face. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

Yes, you’re well aware. You hear it all the time that the word lost any shred of novelty it once had. 

But when Tsukishima says it, your heart skips a beat.  He isn’t flirting with you. He’s looking at you like he’s stating an observation he finds pleasing to him, like you’re a sight he’s truly enjoying to see.

You almost let go of his face from the uncanny feeling on your chest that’s making you uneasy, but you halt yourself when you remember that this guy’s world will spin faster than Jupiter’s rotation if you let him be.

You let out a deep sigh to calm yourself down.

“I know,” you respond firmly to hide the fuzzy mess that you are on the inside. 

“If I’m not so fucking plastered, I’d kiss you.”

You suck in a sharp breath upon hearing it, the yearning to do so creeping up fast behind you. 

You can do it yourself. You’re not dizzy. It’d be so easy. His face is already in your grasp anyways. You just have to lean forward a bit and you can easily grant him what both of you want. 

Should you?

It’d just be one of your harmless kisses, right? You’ve done it countless times before. One more shouldn’t hurt. 

“We’re here.”

You’re harshly brought back to sanity by the driver’s cue that you’ve reached his home. You’re thankful for it because you were really about to kiss him even though you’re the one who said that the deal is no more. You would have slapped yourself if your hands aren’t full.

You pay the driver and help Tsukishima get out of the car. 

You get under his one arm again and assist his steps so he doesn’t stumble. Once you reach their doorstep, he gets his keys from his pockets but scuffles trying to insert it in the keyhole. Instead of getting pissed, he laughs sardonically and faces you. 

“Look, y/n. The key is fucking stupid,” he says, completely believing that it’s the key’s fault and is actually snickering at the inanimate piece of metal’s ‘incapability’ to shoot itself where it needs to be. 

You can’t help but laugh. Even at his drunken state, he still roasts things he deems doltish. It’s funnier cause he talks a bit dopey while insulting the innocent key. He’s still failing after a while so you volunteer to do it. 

“I can do it,” he says seriously and on his next attempt, he does get it in. Then he looks at you and smirks proudly. “See?”

You shake your head and roll your eyes at how absurd he’s acting, but the grin on your face remains. He is still very much himself. It’s just that his rudeness is comically misplaced. Yet as entertaining as it is to watch, you can feel the strain in your shoulders and upper back already. 

You open the door and hope that a relative is somehow still awake to take Tsukki off your hands. Still no luck for you as you’re greeted with nothing but silence. 

“Where’s your room?” “Upstairs, left.”

Great. Can this get even worse? Your original plan is just getting him a cab. Now you have to personally walk him to his room since he’s hopeless treading on a flat surface. What more on a flight of stairs?

You ask him to close the door and lock it before you head up. “Alright, Tsukki. Let’s get you in bed,” you tell yourself as a motivational push to get the task done. 

You huff every step you take because he really is too heavy for you and you’ve had a long night already. You’ll be sure to reprimand him tomorrow for this.

“Y/n?” 

You lift your head up from wooden steps and see Akiteru at the top end of the stairs.

“Aki-san!” You can’t be more thankful upon his arrival.

He urgently goes to you, stopping a few steps up from you and Tsukki.

“What happened to him?” Akiteru asks concernedly. 

“He’s…” you try to think of a more decent word but you can’t think of any at the moment so you tell it as it is. “He’s drunk,” you admit. 

Akiteru’s expression is even more incredulous than yours was back in the bar. He’s looking at you and Tsukki interchangeably. 

“You... you got him to drink?” 

You don’t know if you’re offended or amused because Akiteru looks like he’s extremely grateful that you caused this to his brother.

“I-uh... no. I found him like this in the club. I think you should take him already,” you suggest. You’re about to lift Tsukki’s arm off of you when you feel him resist. When you turn to him, he’s already looking at you with displeasure. “You said you would get me in bed,” he states.

Is he fucking serious? Hell no. You have no reason to do so when Akiteru is here already. “Aki-san, please,” you implore while glaring at Tsukki. 

“Umm... you heard him, y/n.”

You harshly turn your head at Akiteru from disbelief. When your gaze lands on him, he’s sporting an innocent smile, a stark contrast to knowing that the intention behind it is not so innocent.

“Aki-san?” your voice rises a bit from bewilderment at what he’s insinuating. 

“Why do you call Nii-chan by his name?” Tsukki slurs as he asks. 

“Huh?” You eye Tsukki exasperatedly. You have yet to absorb what Akiteru is implying and Tsukki is already adding up to the initial question mark hanging on your head.

“You just met him and you already call him Aki-san. We’ve been working together for three years, yet you don’t call me Kei. Not even when we ki-”

You cover his mouth and laugh awkwardly and loudly. “Tsukki! What are you talking about?” You make yourself sound clueless as you give him a very subtle glare while smiling, hoping that he gets your warning.

“When you what?” Akiteru prods, his eyes still friendly, but with amusement lurking beneath them.

You form a smile but with Tsukki’s weight and his intoxicatedness that’s causing him to babble nonsense, it comes out distressed.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” you persist. “I should really go now. It’s really late, Aki-san. Please,” you press on.

“You can stay,” Tsukki suggests with a faint smirk.

“I agree with Kei. It really is late. We’d be responsible if something happens to you,” he explains kindly, but you know his concern is only second place to what he’s actually thinking. You can tell he’s rooting for you and his younger brother.

“Yeah, I don’t want to be responsible for you,” Tsukki announces with his voice a bit garbled.

Akiteru laughs at Tsukki’s remark but thwarts it immediately as he eyes you apologetically. “Sorry about my brother,” he whispers with one hand covering his mouth. 

“Just sleep with me in my room.”

Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, it does. Your mouth gapes at Tsukki from how he just uttered that inappropriate statement right in front of his older brother. 

You turn to Akiteru defensively. “It’s not what you think.”

Akiteru’s courteous smile doesn’t faze as he says, “I’m not thinking anything, y.n.”

The whole situation makes you want to let go of Tsukki’s arm and jump off the railings of stairs. Then, you’ll wake up in the morning and find that you’ve escaped this entire scenario altogether.

You sigh and wave an imaginary white flag in your head. “I’ll make sure he’s fine,” you say to Akiteru.

You see his eyes light up. Since you and Tsukki are already occupying the narrowness of the stairs, Akiteru can’t go to Tsukki’s other arm to help you. Instead, he goes back up and opens a door on the left.

He keeps it open until you reach what you surmise is Tsukki’s room.

Once you get inside, you hear Akiteru speak, “Thanks for taking care of my brother, y.n.” He closes the door before you can say anything.

Rather than minding Akiteru, you pour your attention on Tsukki, getting him to sit down with his head leaning against a wall.

You feel the instant relief on your shoulders with Tsukki’s weight off them. However, you can’t ease up yet. You have to go to their kitchen and get this guy some water.

You’ll complain later or tomorrow, but for now, you’re going to focus on getting shit done.

You’re about to head out of his room when the door opens itself, causing you to yelp from shock. 

“Sorry,” Akiteru apologizes with a hushed voice. In his hand is a huge bottle of water which he extends to you with congenial fondness. 

“Goodnight,” he says prior to closing the door.

Akiteru is pleasant, but he can’t be more obvious on how he eminently pairs you up with his brother.

You don’t delve into it further as you need to get Tsukki all fixed up. You walk over to where you seated him and make him drink the water Akiteru gave.

You need to make sure he’s not totally hammered when he sleeps. You don’t want him with a hangover tomorrow and skip training when the next match is just a week away. 

He seems in need of the liquid too since he quickly finishes the bottle as soon as he takes it. He clumsily slams the empty bottle on his desk and stands up precariously.

“Woah there. Where are you going?” you ask imperiously.

“Bathroom,” he answers. He tips his head towards you as a corner of his lip shoots up. “Why? Care to join me?”

You want to fight back with a sarcastic ‘No, thank you,’ but he still walks a bit funny so you can’t exactly let him be. You sigh as you take his arm again and aid him as he walks.

“Only until the door,” you patiently answer. 

As much as you want to be a smartass like him, you need the Frog’s starting middle blocker to never miss a training. You can’t have him tripping, falling flat on his face, or accidentally bumping on a wall. 

You let him inside the restroom. Luckily, they have one on this floor so bless your shoulders and upper back. When he comes out, he looks a little less disoriented and his sense of balance is somehow stable with how he’s standing. 

You follow him as he goes back to his room. To your shock, he immediately crawls to bed without changing. ‘Disgusting,’ you comment mentally. He came from outside, a club specifically. How could he not bother changing?

“Aren’t you going to change clothes?” you ask, your grossed out tone clearly heard.

“I’m tired and I’m still slightly dizzy,” he says nonchalantly.

He begins settling down while you’re standing there, tired and dumbfounded. “Where am I supposed to sleep?” He glances around his room, probably trying to recall where he put an extra mattress. Only two seconds later, he gives his bed one firm tap as if to tell you that you’re sleeping beside him. 

You close your eyes from exhaustion and exasperation combined. You don’t want to sleep next to Tsukishima but it has been one hell of an evening already that you’ll take what you can get. He’s already sobered up a bit anyway. You’re at ease that he’ll keep his hands to himself.

You walk to his drawers and find a pair of loose clothing he can comfortably sleep in. Then you stride to his bed and give it to him. He looks at the clothes you’re holding then at you.

On a regular day, he wouldn’t dare sit on his bed without changing after spending time outside.. Tonight is the only exception because he truly isn’t up to the task anymore. He’ll just change his sheets tomorrow. 

He only wants to lie in bed and shut his eyes already. But with you handing him a change of clothes, he has no reason to not to do so anymore.

No reason but to get back at you for giving him hell when you got yourself sick and passed out with only him present to take care of you. 

“I told you I’m dizzy,” he says without accepting the clothes you’re offering him. 

“Don’t tell me I have to change your clothes myself.” He can hear you’re about to lose it and it’s spurring him on even more. He hides his smirk and shrugs indifferently, leaving it to you to decide that for yourself.

You palm your face furiously and it’s almost breaking his resolve to keep a steady face. You prove to have a sensible amount of control on your temper as you recover after one excruciating deep breath. He’s not exactly surprised though. You’ve been a manager for three years now and handling male athletes is not exactly a walk in the park if one has temper problems.

You put one knee on his bed as you start tugging his shirt up. “Why did you even drink?” 

 “Why do you care?” He answers the same way you did when he asked why you bother going to parties.

“Because I’m the one taking care of you!” you almost yell as you dress him in a new shirt. When you successfully change his shirt, you glance at his pants then to his eyes. You didn’t have to utter a word to let him know that you don’t plan to change that particular piece of clothing.

He doesn’t falter though. If he tasted hell because he had to undress your top while you were passed out, he couldn’t miss the chance to return the favor.

“So? You didn’t hear shit from me when I had to take care of your sick ass,” he says, pouring salt to the right burn so he can push you to go along with his scheme.

You clench your jaw as you avert your eyes from his.

“You were a real handful, you know that?” he continues on. “Come to think of it. You’ve heard not a single complaint from me about that night. Should I lecture you now?” His lips betray his apathetic facade when a smirk forms on his face. 

You smile at him with utter displeasure but don’t say anything as you start unzipping his pants, your spiteful eyes never leaving his amused ones.

“I’d love it if you help by lifting your sarcastic butt,” you sound distressed as you try to pull down his pants. 

He grips both your hands that are tugging on his waistband. He props himself up a bit, leaning down and closing in on your stunned yet still delightful face.

“Why do you look so surprised? You asked me to help you, right?” he asks with a subdued voice as he tugs his pants down. 

You turn your face away from his and don't answer his question as you continue what he started. His eyes never trail off your features until you successfully take his pants off

With your face still turned away from his, you grab the shorts you took earlier and toss it to his face. “Seems like you’re not dizzy anymore,” you say as you head to his closet. 

For no fucking reason, he’s laughing elatedly. He might not be dizzy anymore but he can still feel the aftermath of the drinks he rushed drinking at the club. Is this why people get drunk? Because even the most trivial things are funny?

No. It’s because he’s drunk. It’s because of how entertaining you look when you’re a flustered mess. Before you looked away, he caught the wild blush on your cheeks, the stir in your eyes, and the way your hands trembled as you undressed him.

Initially, he wanted you to put on the shorts you got for him as well. But he figures he can show you mercy and do this one on his own since he already had his fun seeing you in a flustered state.

You open his closet and pick your own set of fresh clothes to borrow. Without saying anything, you step out of his room and head towards their restroom.

The first thing you do inside is check your reflection and goddamn it--you’re blushing like a teenager about to lose her virginity.

You groan frustratedly as you softly slap your cheek with your free hand. Tsukishima is tipsy and is just messing with you. Why do you have to be so affected? 

You turn the faucet on and hurriedly wash the heat off your face. When you feel like you’ve cooled off, you look up at the mirror to check if you’re no longer a bursting tomato.

You sigh with relief when you see that your face is back to normal. You turn off the faucet and begin changing to Tsukki’s clothes.

As expected, everything is loose. His shirt is almost a dress. Actually, it already is with how it’s draping just above your knees. You had to use your hair tie to knot a portion of his shorts’ waistband for it to not to drop on your ankles. 

It’ll be uncomfortable sleeping with lumped fabric on your hips but you’d prefer that than not wearing anything underneath his shirt.

You neatly fold your clothes and go back to his room. Another wave of relief hits you when you see him lying down with his eyes closed already. His glasses are already off too. Despite the strenuous and outrageous turn of events earlier tonight, you’re actually glad that he’s safe and sleeping soundly. 

Hopefully tomorrow, he’s going to be fine and forget the shit he pulled on you tonight. 

You take a deep breath as you sit on his bed. Fortunately, his bed is wide enough for you to have some decent amount of space away from him. He also has another pillow so you can sleep comfortably with one of your own. You just pray that it won’t be so cold because there is only one blanket.

Oh well. You’ll cross the bridge when you get there. 

You get his extra pillow and lie down. Once your back hits the soft mattress, your eyes shut close on their own. You feel the weight in your legs and back settle as your body starts to relax. You know that any moment now, you’ll fall asleep so you turn to your side with your back facing Tsukishima. 

You were right. You already feel your consciousness drifting off not long after, only to be disrupted by an arm sliding over your waist.

“What the-”

“My head hurts.” 

Even if Tsukishima doesn’t say anything, you already know how close he is with warm breath fanning your nape. You’d scoot away but you’re already at the edge of his bed.

You harshly remove his arm and face him to give him a not so peaceful piece of your mind. You toss around to face him and when you do, you forget your annoyance as you’re met with a very distressed Tsukishima. His eyes are closed and his brows are furrowed together in almost a straight line. 

“How bad is it?” You ask as you gently brush his hair away from his forehead. 

“Like someone’s driving a fucking nail on my head,” he spats out with the crease on his brows getting deeper. 

You gently slide one hand under his head and so you can massage his temples with both thumbs, hopefully it’ll soothe him even just a bit. 

Thankfully, the crease on his brows and the tension around his nose and mouth eases up. “Where are your painkillers?” I ask softly. “I’ll go get one for you.”

He opens his eyes, a certain tenderness dancing in his orbs while he stares right onto yours. “Just stay here,” he utters delicately as he gradually slides his arm back to your waist. With a firm but still gentle grip on the small of your back, he draws you closer to him until there’s almost no space between your bodies. 

This is different, way too different than he was earlier. And to be honest, you’d prefer that over this. This… it’s something even you cannot name. 

Your thumbs stop moving on their own accord as he inches his face closer. You almost gasp for air with how heavy and thick it suddenly feels. 

“Uh..,” you trail off without even saying anything. You just thought if you said something, it would break the tension. However, it only made it worse.

“Hmm?”

You seem to be the only one uncomfortable as he’s still gazing intently at you like it’s nothing. 

“W-Why are you staring at me like that?” What the hell did you stutter for? This is just Tsukishima, goddamnit.

“It hurts less when I do.” You’d think he’s joking but there’s no trace of derision anywhere on his face. He removes his hand from your waist only to rest it on your neck, his thumb grazing your jaw as he says, “I don’t like that I can’t see you clearly right now.” 

It’s too much. 

Your chest feels like it’s about to explode from how fast your heart is pounding. You want to retract your hands away from him, but you can’t move them because having them there makes him feel better. 

Then he looks down on your lips, a knowing look that you’re very much familiar with.

“Tsukki, we can’t do this,” you whisper, causing his eyes to go back on yours. 

“What are we doing anyway?” he asks as if he’s not aware of what he’s stirring in you. 

“You know what,” you insist. There’s no way he doesn’t.

“I don’t. Maybe if we actually do something, I’ll know what you’re talking about.”

You squint at him with disbelief, not buying the innocent act of him not grasping the situation when he’s the one causing it. “We already broke that deal, Tsukki.”

“Then let’s bring it back,” he counters right off the bat. 

You sigh while shaking your head disagreeably. “You’re drunk,” you state plainly, reminding yourself of this fact to rationalize the way he’s behaving, to calm the havoc that he’s inciting in you. 

You put your thumbs back to work and knead his temples again.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees as he closes his eyes again. He lets out a reposed sigh, then removes his hand from your neck.

You can now rest easy as the temptation backs away himself. You keep at it, observing his stern features which are getting more lax while you continue massaging him. 

Finally, he does as you want him to do: sleep and keep his hands to himself. 

So why is there a nagging emptiness brimming inside you? You’re not actually disappointed, are you? 

“Tsukki,” you utter his name in hushed tones, hoping that he won’t respond. 

With his eyes still shut, you thought he wouldn’t. Yet, he answers just as softly as you called him. “What?”

You sigh. Why is he still awake? He could’ve been asleep already or just stayed quiet and ignored you. Then you’d be able to sleep soundly knowing that you didn’t do anything that you could possibly regret in the morning. 

You stop encircling your thumbs on his head and rest your palms on his cheeks instead. You lean closer to his face. 

“If you change your mind in the morning, forget this happened,” you whisper before you succumb to the snares of attraction you’ve been running away from since you saw Tsukishima in the bar. 

You capture his lips, gradually easing into it, giving yourself time to retreat before he responds. Apart from you not wanting to, he doesn’t give you much time at all as he puts his hand back on your neck and returns the kiss with a guttural sigh.

He eagerly nips on your lips, ardently moving against them as if he’s been wanting to do this for a while already. You respond with the same passion, pressing yourself closer to feel his body firm against yours. 

He moves his hand from your neck to the back of your head, lightly gripping your hair as he coaxes your mouth open with the flick of his tongue on your lower lip. 

You immediately yield to him, parting your lips so you can have more of what he’ll give. When he slips his tongue in and grazes yours, you taste the slight tang of alcohol. It’s very subtle, barely there, but it’s causing a buzz in your senses that no other liquor has provided. 

It’s only a kiss, but you know that this is unlike the previous harmless ones you’ve shared with him. 

Your soft moans on his mouth and his lips growing greedier with each nip tells you that this is one very dangerous kiss. 

You drag your hand from his cheek to his chest to push him away, but he suddenly tugs your hair down, giving himself access to the column of your neck. This time, rather than nudging him away, you clutch his shirt tightly, feeling his mouth trail along the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“T-Tsukishima,” you whine as his hand travels down your ass, his huge palm and long fingers tugging on the fabric as he gives one cheek a firm squeeze.

“Hmmm?” he hums on your skin before you feel his tongue swipe down on your collarbone.

Your skin is on fire but you feel like you’re drowning. Everything he’s doing is compelling you to want to go further than this, to let him touch you beneath the clothes you’re wearing, to let him kiss you wherever he pleases.

Tsukishima wants nothing but precisely that. He’d blame the alcohol, but nothing’s more intoxicating than the sound of your whimpers and your body deliciously pressed against his. His clothes hanging loosely on you only adds to his delirium. 

He knows this is going to lead to something incredibly stupid and totally reckless, but stupid and reckless has never felt this delectable. How can he not indulge himself when the promise of your rapture is just within his grasp? 

He just needs to know if you’re willing to cross the obscure boundary of the deal you once had. 

He puts his free hand to use, sliding it underneath the baggy shirt you’re wearing. He carefully skims his hand up, grazing his fingers just below your bra. Meanwhile, his other hand on your bottom goes a bit further down, only for him to slip his hand inside the oversized shorts and feel your almost bare ass.

With his other hand feeling empty, he moves his palm up and kneads one supple bosom. 

“Ah,” you clench his shirt tighter as you mewl from his touch. Even though he can’t see you clearly, your voice and the way your arch your body even closer to him is enough to cause a tent to form in his shorts. 

He withdraws away from your neck and gets back to your lips. With his hand on your behind, he lugs you closer and grinds his erection on your thigh, letting you know how much you affect him, how much he wants you right now. 

Then your body stills along with the quivering of your lips. 

He pulls back to look at you and even with his blurred vision, he can sense that you’re frightened. “What’s wrong?” Just a while ago, you were melting within his embrace. Now, you’re shaking like a leaf.

“I-” Your breath hitches when you speak. “I can’t do this,” you whisper weakly even though you’re the one who instigated the kiss that led to this. 

Although he’s confused about the sudden change of heart, he doesn’t push it. He immediately removes his hands off your delicate parts and puts considerable space between you. 

“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to seem so scared,” he tells you with an insipid, yet reassuring tone. 

You are scared, but not of Tsukishima. You’re afraid of yourself, of your own desire that’s starting to get out of control. You know that one more kiss and you’ll totally cave in. 

It shouldn’t be a problem since you know that he wants you just as you want him. The hard thing poking at your thigh is enough proof. 

But what happens if morning comes and he wakes up regretting his inebriated urges? He might not be batshit drunk anymore but alcohol is still running through him. If not, he wouldn’t be openly flirting with you. 

What about you? What will be your excuse if the sun rises and he asks why you went along with his intoxicated whims?

None.

You’ll be held responsible for leading him to dance the devil’s tango when he’s not capable of consenting to it with a straight head. You don’t want that. You don’t want to see disgust and regret splashed on his face in the morning, not when you terribly enjoy his kisses and touch.

So you softly push him away. “I’ll sleep beside you, Tsukishima. That’s all I’ll do,” you say with your head down and palms flat on his chest.

“Okay,” he obliges right after you said it. “Do you want me to turn away from you?”

Your eyes shoot up and meet his somber golden ones. “N-no. It’s fine. I’ll do it,” you stammer as you shift your position so your back is facing him. You take a while before you feel your heartbeat getting steady again as the temptation dwindles down. 

You’re about to close your eyes when a gentle hand lands on your shoulder.

“Can I hold you like this?” he asks, his voice a bit farther than it was a while ago. You can tell that he’s maintaining his distance this time. 

“Just like this,” he reiterates with his hand squeezing your shoulder to let you know that his hand won’t drift anywhere else. 

You shut your eyes with a faint smile on your lips. You place a hand over his and give it a light squeeze as you murmur, “Yeah.” 

Your hand starts to slip down when tonight’s events offer you a last surprise. As your hand glides down while you’re starting to drift off to sleep, he laces his fingers with yours to keep it in place. 

You hum peacefully with a gratified smile fully forming on your lips. 

You allow yourself to have this. 

What harm can come from holding hands with your tipsy blonde middle blocker?

--

You wake up a bit refreshed. However, you can still feel the aftermath of Tsukki’s heavy figure slouched on your shoulder last night, or was it morning already? You try to massage your shoulder but as you move your hand, you feel someone else’s intertwined with it.

You press your lips together to prevent a smile when you realize that you two slept together. It’s nothing. You shouldn’t be smiling because of it. It’s just a tiny gesture of reassurance that things are okay between you two despite what almost happened.

You carefully untangle your fingers from him before you sit up. You glance sideways to see if you woke him up. He shuffles a bit but doesn’t seem to have been disturbed. 

You look out the window and see that the sun has barely risen, meaning you haven’t gotten enough sleep. You know it’s no use getting back to sleep since your mind is already fully awake. You wouldn’t dare get out his room but you’re parched and you need to use the restroom. 

You step out of his room and gently closes the door. After you finish using the restroom, you carefully go down their stairs. You take a peek if any of his relatives is up and are relieved when you see that their kitchen is empty. 

You saunter your way to their kitchen, remaining as quiet as you can be while you fix yourself a glass of water. 

“Morning.”

You flinch and almost drop the glass you just finished when you hear the unexpected greeting. You look at the source and see Akiteru, leaning sideways against the fridge with an amicable smile. 

“Oh!” You exhale a huge breath of relief as you put down your glass on the counter. You turn to him to greet him but when you face him, he eyes what you’re wearing. You follow his gaze and realize that you’re wearing Tsukki’s clothes. 

‘It’s not what you think,’ is what you want to say, but you already said that at the stairs. If you repeat it again, you’d seem more defensive than you already were. But how else would you explain yourself?

You look at him with pleading eyes and a weary smile. “I swear, it’s really not what it looks like,” you insist weakly. “I just had nothing to wear,” you add to your defense. Akiteru laughs and waves his hand considerately.

“Don’t worry! I believe you, y/n,” he says with his honest, kind smile. “It’s a bit early for you to be up though,” he remarks. 

“Yeah. My mind is all...” You hover your hands on both sides of your head and shake them while you roll your eyes inanely. 

He chuckles from the antic you didn’t even realize you did. “Wanna chat for a bit? Since you’re all,” he imitates what you did with your head but quelled and contained. 

You smile from how pleasant he is despite teasing you so much for taking care of his brother. “Sure,” you answer kindly. 

He walks towards their dining table and offers you a seat. You follow curtly and sit across him. He regards you decorously, making you feel at ease even though he’s practically a stranger.

“I have to ask, y/n. There’s really nothing between you and Kei?” he asks genuinely. You can tell that he’s looking out for his younger brother, hence the straightforward question. 

You shake your head with a courteous smile. “Nothing. I don’t know if you know, Aki-san, but I’m also his manager.”

His eyes widen.

“You’re the Sendai Frogs’ manager?”

He’s seen Kei’s games but didn’t really have the chance to meet those who stayed on the bench. In one game he has watched, he heard some people beside him saying how blessed the Frogs are for having a ‘hot’ pair of coach and manager. Although he glanced very briefly because of his curiosity, he didn’t really see much of said pair for he was too far away in the stands. You beam proudly at him as you nod, confirming that the other half of the duo is indeed as lovely as the rumors he heard. “For three years now.”

Akiteru scans your face and can’t help but feel like he’s misjudged you a bit. He thought you’re a university student who likes going out and enjoys the most out of college life. He didn’t think you’d be working as a manager for a team. “I was just making sure he got home okay because we need him for practice. The next game is already next week.”

“Isn’t it tough to be his manager?” he asks, curious about what you think of Kei as an athlete. 

“Not really. I like everyone in the team. To be honest though, he was a real pain in the a-” you cut yourself off and clear your throat. You must have realized that you’re talking to him, Kei’s older brother. Although, he wouldn’t really mind if you continue what you were about to say. It amuses him actually. 

“What I mean to say was he was a bit difficult at first. But over time, I got used to him and actually found him nice to have in the team. He’s very smart and very disciplined. Even if he’s apathetic and sarcastic at times, I know he loves being part of the Frogs,” you explain.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says truthfully as he sees that you’re fond of Kei when your eyes shimmer a bit brighter when you talk about his brother. 

“Sometimes people misunderstand him because he acts detached. The truth is when he starts caring about something, he cares deeply. That’s why he has that cool, uncaring facade,” he adds as he stares at the surface of the table. 

When he raises his gaze to you, you look a bit mystified. 

“I’m sorry! I rambled a bit there, didn’t I?” he laughs tensely. 

You smile graciously and wave your palms. “No! It’s fine. I just wasn’t sure why you’re telling me this,” you admit with an apprehensive simper. 

He grins warmheartedly. “I just felt like sharing,” he answers even though the real reason is because he’s convinced his brother likes you too and you might need to know that aspect of him.

Kei wouldn’t have allowed you to take him home no matter how drunk he is if he isn’t comfortable with you. The entertaining exchange you three had on the stairs was another clue. Lastly, Kei let you sleep in his room and you’re even wearing his clothes.

“Has he always been like that?” you ask. 

“Not really,” his smile fades, for he knows that he’s a big factor why Kei is extremely apprehensive of getting too passionate about something. He brushes it off and continues, “But he’s always had that sarcasm ever since he was little.”

You giggle at his answer. “Why am I not surprised?” you say amusedly before your eyes wander to the window. 

“The sun’s up,” you announce softly. “I should go back to Tsukki’s room. I need to change and leave soon so I can attend my earliest class.”

“Of course! Thanks for the small chat, y/n,” he says dearly.

“Any time, Aki-san,” you respond buoyantly then stand up. Instead of going back to Kei’s room, you head to the fridge and get a bottle of water. 

“He’ll probably be thirsty as f… hell when he wakes up,” you explain, receptive of Kei’s condition even though his drunk brother must have given you a hard time last night. You bow thoughtfully then head up. 

He watches you get back upstairs, careful not to make so much sound from your steps since it’s still early. Then he walks to the kitchen to get him some coffee while thinking how well you suit his younger brother. Part 6 || Part 8 || masterlist taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai  @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84 @anaiss97 @berna-dette @just4readingfics @suteorra @xxekitten69xx @simp4tsukkii @music-is-all-i-need @keshinslittlegirl @raspberrysunshinebby @iminlovewhaikyuu @pdiddy11 @lightyagamami @sailorscout1902 @lovershaikyuu @expectonothinfromme @finnydraws @namelessidentity @hqbeesun @yatoatyourservice @mrkozume @suzuyamitsuki @celestialarchiveshq @yongboxerrr @gomenpudding @kutiekoge @fizzfrick @flamingosis @korean-bbq @ihaterainbowsprinkles @red-lint @backtonormalthings @borpcorp @lonelyheartxn @venomouscreatures @lucyrocks86 @shawtiie @honestlysora​

[ninyard]

Could you write something with a Nicky & Kevin friendship or just supporting each other, set at any point during the series

you know what anon I don’t think I’ve ever genuinely thought about Nicky n Kevin’s friendship before ?? But! What a fantastic friendship it is!!!! I think there’s a pretty pivotal moment in the series of their relationship, but obligatory CW for The Raven King Chapter 11 (the thanksgiving dinner) before we get into it

First of all I think when Kevin first arrived in PSU, and when he was staying with Abby, still healing his broken hand, Nicky was the only fox except for Andrew who visited him regularly? Even Andrew didn’t really “visit” at that point, but Nicky was the only one who pro-actively wanted to see how Kevin was doing, instead of asking Wymack or Abby or gossiping between the team. It was probably in part because Nicky LOVES breaking a good story, but mostly it was because of the fact Nicky is such a genuinely kind person? He knew how alone Kevin must’ve felt after being essentially banished from his “family”, with no future in sight or a will to live, really. So Nicky showed up. He always brought a gift, and even though Kevin didn’t really speak much and really seemed to hate Nickys fast, drama-filled way of speaking, he never told Nicky to leave.

When Andrew came along and took Kevin under his wing, that kind of drove a wedge in between any semblance of relationship they could’ve had. It was Andrew And Kevin, and that was it. Andrew didn’t see a point in leaving room for Nicky in that. But Kevin never forgot what Nicky did for him, and even though they’re practically opposite types of people, Kevin and Nicky never had beef, like literally ever. Nicky tried flirting seriously with him once, but Kevin scrunched up his nose and shook his head and for the first time Nicky didn’t persist. They really just had this unspoken respect for each other, but their relationship was never really much more than that. Whereas Kevin’s relationship with Andrew was a joined-by-the-hip kind of deal, Kevin and Nicky more so looked out for each other in the smallest ways. When Nicky sprained his wrist during practice the end of freshman year, Kevin was there for him to show him the best ways to move it to build his strength back up and to take care of it so it could heal properly. When Nicky was struggling with some type of homework on the bus to a game, Kevin would peek over his shoulder and nonchalantly point out the answers. When Kevin was starting to play again, Nicky always offered to play defence to help him regain his strength against an opponent.

But you know, as soon as you mention Nicky and Kevin my head INSTANTLY goes to the aftermath of Chapter 11 in TRK. Like, Kevin had to go downstairs after finding that situation, and presumably Nicky had no real idea. So Nicky looks in the Kitchen window, while talking to his mom about nothing, and he sees Neil and Aaron head out of the kitchen. He watches Kevin follow. It’s not long before Luther is back outside with a look on his face that says nothing good, and then Nicky sees Kevin. He’s on the phone, chewing at his fingernails, face white like he’d seen a ghost. He leaves the table, overhearing Kevin reciting his parents’ address and they lock eyes when he enters the room. Kevin’s eyebrows are knitted together like he’s about to cry. He puts a hand out when Nicky tries to push past him. It takes him a minute to hang up, and suddenly Nicky’s heart is racing and he’s desperate to go upstairs. Kevin can’t find the words.

“Andrew’s hurt.” The words don’t do it justice. It feels like a lie coming out his mouth. “Nicky,” he tries to push past again. “I don’t know if you should go up there.” Nicky turns back to see his mom and dad watching them. They look like they’re about to follow. Nicky asks if he called the police or an ambulance. Kevin says both.

“Who hurt him?” Nicky doesn’t know what to say. He can hear the mumble of voices upstairs.

“I don’t know.” Kevin’s voice is almost a whisper. “There’s so much blood.” And then Nicky shoves him out of the way and suddenly Kevin’s following him up the stairs and Nicky’s reaching out to hold Andrew’s face, Neil holding a blanket around his presumably naked bottom half. Kevin nearly got sick at the sight again. He’d seen enough blood in the nest, he’d seen enough rapes and tortures and beatings and dead bodies, but this was so much worse. This was messy, this was family, this was Andrew’s abuser killed at the hands of his brother, blood on the wall of Nicky’s childhood bedroom.

So Andrew and Neil leave in the ambulance, Kevin and Nicky left to take a taxi to the police station, waiting for Aaron who left in cuffs, waiting to give their statement. They don’t say much, but Kevin puts a hand on Nicky’s shoulder when he finally cries, and leaves his own shoulder free as a place to cry on. They’re told to leave without Aaron and they’re left alone again in Columbia, waiting for David to bring Andrew home safe. Neither of them have much of an appetite to eat, and it’s a while before either of them speak.

“Did you see it happen?” Nicky is staring at a wall, hands wringing around the end of a pillowcase. “Did you watch him die?”

“No,” Kevin fought off another panic attack that crept up his throat. “Did you know who he was?”

They skirted around the topic, afraid that if they said what really happened, it would be real, it would be unfixable. But Kevin knew Nicky needed him, until somebody else came back. Can you even imagine how much Nicky must’ve been in shock? I don’t think he even called Erik until the next day, you know. The only person he spoke about it with was Kevin, and when Betsy arrived he cried with her for ten minutes before a car was pulling up and he knew it was Andrew. Kevin and Nicky had never spent so much to me alone, but there was a strange comfort in the air. Kevin was the rock that Nicky needed, and Nicky was the distraction Kevin needed. Kevin wasn’t a hugger, really, but when Nicky asked to be held, he pulled him into his chest and didn’t let go until he was ready. They both comforted each other that night, but they never spoke about it again. Nobody else had to know that they’d practically broken down in each other arms, half in shock, half processing the trauma they’d just witnessed. Nicky had never been exposed to something like that before; Kevin knew it was a life-changing event for him. Nicky didn’t have any sort of ideas of superiority about his relationship to Andrew, either. He knew how much Andrew meant to Kevin, how he had walked in to see his protector so vulnerable, so hurt. He knew Kevin had to say that word down the phone to the operator, and how he had to say it to Coach, too. And he had to say it again and again and again to the cops in the station.

I know it’s an extreme example of their friendship, but I think a lot of it goes unspoken. That night was the night where their respect for each other became physical, and visible. It became more than just nods across a court or a pat on the shoulder after a good game. They were all they had that night. Just Kevin and Nicky, alone for god knows how long, just waiting, trying to keep it together. They each took a shot of whatever spirit they could find before Betsy arrived, and nobody had to know about that either. They coped in their own ways after that, but it really solidified how much they cared about each other, I think. Kevin texted Nicky for the first time that week, a couple different times, just to see if he was okay, how he was doing, if he needed anything. And oh man, did that mean the absolute world to him. Kevin and Nicky’s relationship is probably one of the more unexpectedly close relationships in the series, when I think about it. They didn’t experience what happened that night in the way Andrew or Neil or Aaron did, but the way they looked out for each other when both their worlds came screeching to a halt in the upstairs bedroom in a house that was no longer home? Unmatched.

There’s definitely softer/“fluffier”/funnier instances of them being friends but my mind couldn’t NOT let me write about this cos it was all I could think about SORRYYYY

[justasimptm]

The Bride C17

The voice rings clear and stern, tone filled with rage and disbelief. Heisenberg stands a few feet away, leaning on his hammer, watching Moreau hesitant in front of me. It’s kind of funny to me, watching him panic, it’s like he’s hitting all the stages of grief at the same time. His mouth flaps like a fish, which is even funnier given his ugly other form, but to give him credit, he doesn’t back away. Heisenberg barely twitches a finger, but the knife he was holding flies from his hand, banging loudly on the support beam behind us. I feel both relieved and tense still as he steps closer, knowing I’m not alone but unsure how he’s going to deal with this situation.

“Mother wanted me to do another test! I’m making progress!” Moreau whimpers, matching his steps moving backwards, only stopping when he bumps into his little table and trips, falling to the ground with a nauseating wet slap. Heisenberg doesn’t even look at me, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the dolt that’s trying to skitter away from him. “You should-you should go! Let me finish my work!” Heisenberg scoffs at the effort, twisting his fingers slightly to pull the needle from my arm, letting it ping to the ground before sliding the bucket that had started collecting my blood over to him. It sloshes slightly, and I realise he had already started draining me before I woke up.

“I think, you have plenty. And I also think if you ever try something like this again, I will tell Mother Miranda about your betrayal, because that’s what this is, and she’ll cast you out for it. Let her out of your filth.” He hisses, leaving no room for argument or discussion. Within seconds I feel the sludge holding me up release, which is both a relief and a shock, because without it I feel a million pounds heavier and I tumble forward into Heisenberg, who with all his grace, manages to catch me before I hit the ground.

Without so much as letting the other creature breathe a syllable in reply, Heisenberg turns, and promptly stalks from the mines, resurfacing through the hut before walking us slightly downstream. He sets me down carefully on one of the bigger rocks, letting me adjust myself before fully releasing me and sitting down next to me. Part of me wonders how he found me, but part of me doesn’t want to ask, wanting instead to break down slightly and thank him for saving us again, even after our last encounter had been so cold. I scramble for the words to say to break our silence, even a simple thank you not feeling good enough. My buffering seems to register with him, so he fortunately takes the initiative and speaks first so I don’t have to.

“Do you need blood? He got a lot before I got there.” He asks, eyeing me up and down before looking out at the running water. The concern in his voice shocks me for a split second before I reply, humming thoughtfully as I focus on my body to see if I can get it to wake up. He must’ve really taken a good portion of what I had running through me because even now, out of his slime and out in the light, my body feels like it could drop into a coma at any second.

“I will. Before I go home if I can manage it. Thank you for coming, Lord-” I start, watching him from the corner of my eyes so I can look without staring directly. Before I can finish my miniature praise he cuts me off with the waive of his hand.

“I wasn’t gonna let that Fish Chum kill you. And I’m pretty sure I told you to call me Karl.” He states, turning to face me head on, but keeping his attention low as he shrugs off his jacket and rolls up the sleeve of his shirt. My brows furrow at his movement and I have to force myself away from staring at his now exposed arm and flexing biceps as he moves them. “I know I’m probably not preferred dinner, but I don’t think I’ll be able to get anyone fresher.” He mutters and it suddenly strikes me what he’s planning. Before I could protest, both at the intimacy of it and the idea of drinking from him and hurting  him, he pulled a thin knife from his belt and made a small cut across his arm. Not so deep as to cause much damage, but enough to make his blood sing in the air. “Don’t even think about saying no. Can’t have you dying’ on me yet, Doll. I still gotta make you like me.”

His words barely register on my mind as I reach for him on instinct, he pulls me closer to his side, running his fingers through my pinned hair and letting it fall fully loose from it’s half destroyed bun. It’s interesting as I latch on, not biting really, more like suckling, the conscious part of my brain trying not to cause too much harm. What’s even more interesting is that instead of tensing, like most would under the fang of what could arguably be considered a vampire despite our real creation, he relaxes into me. Sighing as my lips close on his skin and I apply the first light pressure of sucking, not flinching as my tongue swipes over the cut he made, tasting him for the first time.

He tastes like the best treats you could imagine. Like a fresh strawberry, dipped in rich dark chocolate, both sweet and bitter, but a perfect combination of both. He tastes like nothing I’ve had before, something I can only imagine could be compared to having your favorite meal at the end of a long week. My eyelids flutter close at the first drop that I pull into my mouth. Trying so hard not to be greedy, but wanting so desperately to bite and drink until I can’t. I think I hear myself whimper slightly, but I’m quickly soothed by his gentle shushing as he runs his fingers through my hair, scraping slightly along my scalp. The paired sensations of his coarse fingers on my head, his calm voice telling me it’s okay and to take what I need is almost too much to handle.

It makes me not want to stop, even though I know I need to. My body feels alive, humming with strength and more energy than I’ve had in years, and I fight every single nerve I have as I pull my stained lips away from his arm. When he asks me if I’ve had enough I almost laugh. No, I want to say, I need more, I need everything, but I say yes, because I am sated, belly full and happy, warmth flowing back to my fingers and my cheeks. His face is tinged red, just so slightly, a thin layer of sweat along his forehead, and for a split second I’m terrified I took too much. But as smoothly as he had rolled it up, he tugs his sleeve back down, nodding to himself. We sit in silence for another minute, letting both of our breathings steady before trying to return to conversation.

At first our conversation is light, he asks how I ended up in the mines, I ask how he knew I was there. Both of us give half truths, evading what we think will embarrass ourselves, but walking on eggshells grows tiresome fast.

“Are you scared of your mother?” He asks out of the blue, making me choke slightly on the breath I was taking. I can’t stop myself from looking around at who might have heard him, but we’re alone, just as we were when we came down.

“My mother is...a very complicated woman.” I start, treading carefully, but he scoffs at my statement, making me smile lightly. “Maybe a bit more than complicated. She’s always wanted what she thought was best for me. For her, really.” The sadness in my voice sobers him quickly. As I find the next words he gently pulls his glasses off, putting them to the side on his jacket. I started explaining that we were both sick, her and I, but she wanted to be cured, leading into her magical find, the thing that would keep her alive for ages. He knows what I mean without having to say it. “She came home that night different. Physically, mentally. She looked like my mother but she didn’t exactly act like her. I was terrified, if I’m going to be honest. She changed me though, even though I…” I can’t finish that sentence, but I don’t have to, judging by the look on his face he already understands. “It took me a while to accept this, and when I finally did she really wasn’t my mother anymore. She was twisted up, and if I’m going to be honest, yes. I am afraid of her. I think everyone should be, really. She has no remorse for anything she does, wanting only for us all to love her. Me, my sisters, Miranda. That’s the only thing that drives her anymore.” What he asks next sends a spear of shock through my gut.

“So why haven’t you left?”

Why haven’t I left? God, that’s a very good question. I can go outside, I can fend for myself quite easily. So why not? The answer is much harder than anything else I could say.

“Because if I leave, I die.” His mouth drops at the bluntness of my response, and I have to fight to keep my voice steady. “My pendant is burned into my chest. If I try to leave, my mother can break the charm on it that keeps the silver poisoning from spreading, and kill me. I stay with her because I’m sick of dying. I’m sick of living. I’m sick of not having a choice on which I do. So I choose to stay, because it’s the only choice I have.” He doesn’t  have a follow up question, and the silence that was once comfortable now feels suffocating. “Thank you for helping me, Karl. I need to get back now. I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”

Without so much as another beat of my heart I swarm, quickly finishing the ascent back up to my home, not reforming until I’m firmly inside the doors.

Heisenberg's POV

When I found her, mounted to the wall like some goddamn experiment, it felt like my entire world stopped moving. She was alive, but the white sheen on her face told me that wouldn’t be the case for very long. I know for a fact that this oaf didn’t ask Miranda if he could do this, so that was my opening, and thank god it worked. I was able to get her out of there before something bad really happened. Out in the sunlight she seems more calm, but she’s still too pale. It strikes me that she needs blood, to replace what he took. I start to scramble mentally, not sure where to find her something to eat, not wanting to leave her to do it.

The thought breezes through my head in a split second. If she needs blood, I think, she can drink mine. Then I think about the parasite infecting my body and I grimace, I doubt she’ll really want that. Still, however, I offer, and a warm tingle goes up my back when she agrees. When she starts mouthing at the cut I made on my arm I fight every fiber of my being to stop myself from shivering. The feeling of her tongue swiping over it, the deep but gentle sucking and the blissed out look on her face is almost too much for me. Almost too much but somehow not nearly enough.

The moment is over almost as soon as it starts. She releases my arm from her hands and pulls back, her breath still ghosting over my skin. I want to tell her she can keep going, just to feel it again, to see her like that, but I know she stopped for a reason so I don’t push it. After steadying our breathing and calming down, I decided to break the silence and try talking to her.

Our conversation is airy, but I can’t stop myself from asking the question I’ve been dying to know the answer to for ages, ‘are you scared of your mother’. When she says yes my blood boils. She tells me how her mother came back fucked up and forced the change onto her. She didn’t want this life either. She tries to keep her voice stable but I can still hear the hints of it shaking. The next question falls from my mouth before I can stop it.

“Why haven’t you left?” I propose. This seems to stump her for a minute, but she pulls her shoulders back and her face droops in resignation. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to answer, but she does before I get a chance.

“Because if I leave, I die.” She tells me, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the throat. She explains how the pendant she has is burned into her body, which explains why I never see it move, and that if she leaves her mother will take the charm off of it and let her die. It’s silver, the same material used to stab her those weeks ago. If I look close enough I can see small back veins around where the pendant sits, evidence that it would kill her. Before I can say anything else she’s gone, whisked back to her tower, far away from me. When she’s gone it feels less warm in the sun, everything somehow dimmer. I’m going to find a way to save her, I think to myself, and nobody will ever hurt her again.

@foggyturtleknightangel @beingviolentlyhappy @inesalexandra1995 @loveboldlywingedangel130

[withoneheadlight]

life has been a bit crazy for me so I haven’t been around but I’m glad to see that the upside down kiss fic is circulating back around bc it lives rent free in my mind constantly and I am whORE KNEE 😩

nsfw! anon

(I hope you’ve seen well I miss u :((( )

NSFW!ANON I'M SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU I MISS YOUUUUUU!!!!! Holy shit this is the nicest surprise!!!!!! 💖💖💖🌟💖🌟💖🌟💖🌟💖 Wish your life were at least a bit less crazy :(. Mine's been a bit crazy too. Weird and busy. Haven't been letting me much time for fandom and i miss it so, SO FUCKING much. 

And <3<3<3, haha yep! i’ve got a soft spot for that fic too bc i had so much fun writing it, and it’s even funnier on my mind idk xD. i’m so happy people likes it. Those gifs are like a harringrove inspiration charm i swear! Maybe you’ve already seen it but @warheadache added this amazing ar to it and 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉.

also!! i know it doesn’t look like it but i’ve got a couple things for you on the works and i’m closer to finish them!! at my snail pace but yk, 

a few excerpts bc i want to give them to you so baaaaaadddDDDDDD:

(I'm sure you'll recognize the working titles :P)

| n s f w ahead |

~

| boots |

And it’s been more than three years. More than three years of holes on his body and holes on his veins and stitches and tubes and pills and pain under every scar and unsteady steps and pulling together a pile of dirty rubble. More than one of Steve, Steve, Steve. Of coming back in busts and flickers. Enough gasoline left to light a spark. Too empty still to start a fire.

Except―

He’s going through his old stuff, one day. Cold outside. Late January. Chill fogging the windows. Daylight pouring to the edges of the sky like red-hot steel on the other side.

Billy’s on the floor. The contents of the two plastic bags collecting dust at the bottom of his closet since he moved in here now scattered all around. Cassettes and crumpled papers and tampered books and stupid memorabilia and. His old tight jeans. His leather jackets. His light-blue denim one, with the blood-red goodbye kiss of somebody whose cheek he remembers touching, whose face he can’t remember anymore.

And Billy doesn’t hear him coming, but one moment he’s not, the next Steve’s crouching by his side, leaning against him, too lightly for it to be in need of balance.

“God, Hargrove” he huffs, picks Billy’s favorite shirt out of the pile “Am I remembering this one right?”

Billy bites in a smile. Swallows down some bitterness.

“You are”

Steve nods, mouth twisting into a grin, a brow rising. Glances down at what Billy’s holding (on to) between his hands.

“And oooh. Those boots”

Still dirty. More dark brownish than black. One of the few things he got back from the hospital. His pendant being the only one he ever put back on.

“Yeah”

“Thinking ‘bout using any of these again?” Steve gives the shirt a light shake, the dark-red fabric dragging on the wooden floor.

Last time Billy wore it, he burned hole in it. A stray ember fell from his joint, right under the left pocket. Tiny enough to pass mostly unseen but―

For a closer look, it was ruined.

Two days later, the Mind-Flyer dragged him into the basement of Brimborn Steel Works.

Billy digs his fingers into the dry leather before they can start shaking.

“I don’t―” Takes in a big gulp of air “―know. Don’t know if they’ll fit anymore” It feels like nothing.

Because, he doesn’t mean only his body. Means it all. Because he’s alivealivealive, like some kind of inevitability. Alive like a form of inertia.

Alive because that’s all he had left. Got’s left. The only thing he could. Can. Do.

But,

But

“Uhmm” Steve exhales. Looks right into his eyes and it feels like he’s looking deeper. And it’s not the first time, not the first time Billy wonders, how much he knows, and how he knows it. Wonders what he might be seeing, what his instinct might be saying for him to―lower down his voice, eat away almost every single one of the scarce millimeters keeping their mouths from touching “Maybe the boots, then” his hair tickling Billy as it falls over his forehead, the feeling of it so intimate it seems illicit “Only, the boots”.

And those words. Those words. Taste like gasoline on Billy’s mouth, make the flame almost catch. Hot. As they feel over the rabbiting pulse of his jugular. Ad there shouldn’t be any empty space left between them when Steve moves even closer, his lips brushing a path of raw tenderness over Billy’s cheek, trailing sideways, air turning flammable and unstable, unbreathable when he says, “You’d look―” Voice hoarse. Shaky. Breath warm down the curve of Billy’s neck. Fingertips burning as a branding mark over his solar plexus “Hot as fuck”

Trading a grenade for Billy’s fast-beating heart.

And then― he’s getting up. Going away. Closing the door behind him. Leaving Billy one pull away from the detonation.

And Billy.

It’s been more than year since he moved. More than a year of SteveSteveSteve. Of coming back in busts and flickers. Enough gasoline left to light a spark. Too empty still to start a fire.

But Billy wants it, this kind of inevitability. Not inertia. No survival. Not that something living doesn’t really feels like. He wants Steve to release that bomb he just dropped inside of his body. Left Billy unmade. Shape him back together with his own two hands.

So he gets up. Wired-up and breathless. Anticipation beading on the surface of his skin. Thinks about of all those times alive felt like something reachable. That almost-touch sensation. Static singing on his fingertips: loving arms closing around his ocean-cold skin. The rumbling of the sea caught up on the shell of his ribcage. Max's crazy laugh like a hammer to his bones. The Camaro cooking the soles of his feet, speed making his head spin through a wormhole and out into the infinite. His knuckles cracking against the skin of another, finding bone. The metallic tang of blood flooding down the back of his tongue.

Love and fire and rage and―

He takes all his clothes off. They don’t feel like they fit, either. Socks. Sweats. Hoodie. T-Shirt. Takes a deep breath when the pendant bumps against the naked skin of his chest.

Puts his boots on.

Does the only thing he’s ever known.

“Steve!” he shouts. Pulse spiking up fast. Trying to beat a way out of his body “Can you come back in here?”

Skyrocketing, when Steve shouts back.

“Going!”

And then is the door clicking open. Billy’s lungs freezing in the middle of a breath. Steve’s eyes looking almost black as they catch the shadows. Sun falling down the reality of the other side.

And in a darkness like that, it’s only them what remains. Them, and the way they are looking at each other.

And Billy feels alive. Like falling. Feet slippin’ on the razor’s edge.

"Billy" breathes out Steve. Shoulder perched on the frame. Fingers tightening around the handle "Fuck, Billy I―"

“Yeah?”

Alive. Like a form of gravity when―

Steve comes forward. To him. Careful. Careful. Footsteps creaking on the wooden floor. Lashes falling down as his eyes drift. Swallows. Comes closer and closer still.

And then.

Their chest are brushing and their hands are almost touching and it's not even an inch but Billy has to look up even with his stupid boots on and,

“You said―”

Steve breathes in. Cuts Billy’s breath off his lungs.

Between them, there’s no room for anything that’s not the way they’re not touching.

“I know what I said”

The air, sparks, sizzles, becomes the memory of a thunderstorm and. The tips of Steve’s fingers make his hairs stand on end. High voltage. Spark over the inside of his wrist. The faded blue of his veins. And Billy shivers. Feels like that second of stasis before the rupture. Static calm and then― the ocean breaks.

And then Steve says,

“I wanna see it. That fire in you” and his fingers tickle across the hidden tenderness on the inside Billy’s elbow. Nails grazing their way up to his shoulder, detouring to contour the crest of his clavicle, slide down the trough, spreading as they follow the shape of Billy’s neck, thumb fitting into the corner of his lips and “C’mon.” smiling, smiling. Eyes creasing at the sides, lashes catching the few last strings of light. Wicked and sweet and devastating “Show me who’s that Billy Hargrove everybody's been telling me so much about”

~

| stick | tw: object insertion |

It’s thrilling, this secret, depraved game they play. Feels like it's forbidden. Leaves a sweet, honey-thick aftertaste.

And Billy is so. So curious. Can’t stop asking Steve to tell him “How it feels babe. I want to know how good it feels. God you look like it's hitting you just right” and Steve tells him. Steve fucks himself down into whatever thing Billy is holding for him, never touching himself until he’s almost there, wanting to ride that sole sensation right up until the very end. Shivering. Shaking. Breaking a sweat. The words coming ragged out of his open mouth. “Cold” or “Weird” or “Like. Too much–ah. Too much” and “Soft, God, Billy so soft” and–

“Why don’t you try it yourself?”

And Billy its so, so curious.

Billy does.

Rails himself for Steve to watch, slicked up with lube and dripping. With a rolling pin. A cucumber. Almost a whole box of wooden colored pencils, stuffed inside his ass one by one. With “ohgodgodgod”  the handle of Steve’s fucking nailed bat. Lets Steve holds whatever thing he chooses for him “C’mon, babe. C’mon. Treat it good. Swallow it as deep as you can. Take it like you would take my cock”

And life in Hawkins gets boring after the first, second, fourth, seventh yearly round. Steve takes that office work. Billy gets a permanent spot in the garage. If he gets real lucky, somebody takes him an interesting car from time to time. But sometimes Steve looks at Billy with dark, liquid eyes. Says “Ok enough”. His voice harsh. Rasped. Losing balance at the edge of what he’s able to restrain himself. Sounding as if he’s jealous of those things jamming the insides if Billy’s ass. Takes out Billy’s been writhing around. Fucks him hard. Fuck him deep. Fucks him so good there are tears in Billy’s eyes by the time he comes. Fallen apart and sobbing.

&

Steve’s driving. One hand on the wheel. One hand on the shift. The cool air of the night coming in shorts through the rolled-down window. On the radio, Ted Nugent’s making his guitar whine, the strings arching into the touch of his fingertips, asking for more more more, ‘Here I come again now baby. Like a dog in heat’

Steve’s long fingers flex over the knob, winter-cold white under reddened knuckles. He shifts from third to fourth with a smooth press and lets go of the clutch, and the Camaro sighs, settles. Steve makes her calm. Steve tames her. Where Billy makes her growl and kick Steve drives her like a lover, whispers to her with all his body I’m gonna fuck you so slow. We got all night, baby. Steve treats her right. Runs those fingers up and down the metallic rod of the shift and Billy gets hard. One second from zero to sixty.

His cock pulses, pulses. Fills up whole. The sudden rush of heat traveling up, up. Presses against the walls of his throat. Billy wants to feel the head of Steve’s cock against his bell. Wants Steve to make him choke on him.

Steve brakes. Clutches. Reduces. The Camaro moans, needy. Steve soothes her, caresses it with a soft brush of his thumb along the speed patter Shh, baby sshhh. Just hold a little bit longer. I promise I will let you come.

Billy feels himself twitch, spit out precum. The inside of his pants feels damp, appetizing. He lets his hips slide, rock.

The knob is real leather. Silver pattern ingrained over black. Seams carefully sew out on the surface as a touch of style.

Billy replaced it a few months ago, the old one too damaged by use. Worn out.

This one curves slightly forward.

It would hit just right.

Steve's eyes are alight, framed in the light reflected from the rearview mirror, a dramatic take out of an old Noir.

Except the brown shines full color. Alive.

Billy puts his hand over Steve’s on the knob, spreads his fingers around his.

Grips him hard.

“Hey, babe. Have you ever thought about it?”

“Mmm? About what?”

“About riding my car”

Steve huffs. Chuckles.

“I am driving your car”

“Yeah” Billy caresses the side of Steve’s hand with his thumb, a lagged reflection of his gesture. Thinks about how pretty Steve’s lips would look around that leather, mouth open wide “Don’t mean it like that”

&

Billy has to take a deep, shaky breath, thinking it's a miracle they ever get as far as they plan, that Steve Harrington's mere existence doesn't make him come just by looking at him.

Not all their games get to the finish line. But this, God, Billy wants this one to.

"Ah-ah" he shakes his head, smirks, keeps the stakes high "But if you hop on I'll let you eat my mouth"

“Mmmm. I don’t know”

Steve twists his lips, considering, looks like he’s willing to take his sweet time deciding, staying just like this, idly rocking on his lap, keeping Billy hooked in this scarce feeling, this almost kissing between their cocks.

And Billy––Uff. Billy it’s too revved-up, can’t take it any fucking second more.

Grabs Steve’s asscheeks. Lifts him up.

“Billy what the—ohfuck” It doesn't go in. ‘Course it doesn’t. When Billy lets Steve’s weight drop just a slight bit. It bumps. Slips. Wet and obscene. Rips a breathless thing of a sound out of his throat. But then Steve’s arms wrap around his neck. Bracing himself so Billy can take a hold of it, line himself up. And then yeah yeah. He barely has to rub the head against Steve’s slippery hole and his cock slides in. Eaaasy. All the way. Into Steve’s warmth. Tight. Tight. Tight. And–

“Ohfuck. OhfuckOh”

The air coming in from the window is cool, bristling, but it feels like nothing when Steve lets out a chocked cry. Fucks himself. Fast. Rough. Face buried into the crook of Billy’s neck. Breath blooming hot, hot. Teeth on his pulse.

“Shhhh, baby, shhh” Billy takes his face between his hands, pushes him carefully backwards. Waits ‘till Steve’s eyes slowly find focus on his, still rocking, still― “Hey. You gotta stop. You hear me?” Steve takes a deep breath, exhales long and shaky. It takes all of him to slow down, Billy knows, but he does. Thighs twitching. Cock weeping. Smearing over Billy’s belly where his t-shit has hitched up.

Billy brushes his hair back from his forehead. Tangled and damp and gorgeous.

Kisses him light and sweet.

“We’re close, baby. We’re really, really close. But you gotta stop so I can open you up real good ok?”

Steve nods, eyes glossy, lips bitten and Billy feels overwhelmed, feels like burning under the hard sun. They’re both hanging by the thinnest of threads, Billy can feel it, can see it in the blown-out dark of Steve’s eyes. They’re riding pleasure at point break, time holding its breath for them. This is his favorite part of the game. A little too much, just a little too much. ‘Till one of them loses it. ‘Till one of them melts on the other’s hands. Hard and thick.

And God, Billy has never been one not to push his luck.

He takes two fingers up to Steve’s lips, runs the tips over the tender skin inside. Thinks about how they don’t look bitten enough, swollen enough. About how he’s gonna have to fix that.

“I’m gonna put these two inside. Will you get them ready for me?” Steve’s Smile twitches up, canines showing. It’s a two-men-con. But they play as much against the other as they play together. So Steve swallows both fingers. All the way in one go. Eyes falling shut. Eats them wet and messy. Deepthroats. Rumbles. Ass clenching, pulsing around Billy’s cock. And Billy is only a short breath of self-control away from spending himself inside him like a fucking rookie.

It’s boring, small-town life, really. Except–

“Good boy,” he says, making his fingers pop out of Steve’s mouth, satisfaction tastier than honey at the mean glare it grants him. But it softens, that glare, Steve’s eyelids flutter, open-mouthed and blissed, when Billy brushes the head of his cock with his knuckles, haft teasing, half relieving, keeping Steve in the tightrope with him.

“I’m getting a bit impatient in here, Hargrove” he says, only managing to make his voice sound half annoyed about it. Bit Billy is too, impatient. So drags his fingers down, pads tracing the taut shape of Steve’s cock, his balls, and down. Presses. Softly. Rubs the stretched-out flesh of his hole. Dips just the tips. Press. Press. And–

“AhfuckBilly–Ah.Mmmmh”

It’s tight. Steve’s ass clenches around him, squeezes him in. It’s a heady feeling, having him like this, senses overrunning. He’s intoxicated. High on the painful scratch of Steve’s nails when he grabs his jaw to kiss him open-mouthed and harsh. The helpless way he chokes off a sob when Billy makes his fingers curl, rubs him good and,

“I’m ready, Billy. I’m ready. BillyBillyplease. I can’t take it anymore. Please, baby. I’m ready” he’s gasping, breathless, barely taking in the heated up air they share.

“Hey. C’mon. C’mon. Just a little more, ok?. A little more and I’ll let you swallow it all in. That knob. All the way down your ass. No space left for anything else" he licks the words all along Steve’s neck, his ear. Rubs his lips over the damp roots of his hair. Cock pushing. Fingers working. When Steve sits on the stick. Billy wants him right over the edge “Gonna cum so hard you’re gonna be begging me to let you ride her again”

~

yup! hope you like them! i really really REALLY want to finish them for you.

Fingers crossed I get to see you again soon my dear nsfw!anon 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

[vocalyunho]

Why’d you only call me when you’re high?

pairing — San x reader (fem)

genre — angst, smut

word count — 2.8k

warnings — mentions of alcohol, oral, fingering, spanking, choking (not really), explicit unprotected sex.

synopsis — San’s on your doorstep again, high and needy, like every other time. You can’t bring yourself to say no to him though, not when your emotions for him are this strong.

A/N: AM’s “Why’d you only call me when you’re high?” was the inspiration of this.

“are you up?”

San’s text got followed by one more shot that made his throat feel like he’d breathe out fire in the form of bright blue flames. He tried to walk to the bathroom and once he reached it, his already blurry vision got blurrier, as he held himself up by holding on the sink. The clean mirror in front of him, that reflected his -not so good- state, told him it was about time he left but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Not with his mind on how you weren’t there with him, by his side, and he knew, very well, he shouldn’t want you there.

All his calls to you went unanswered and all his texts got overlooked with one single text that said it all “why’d you only call me when you’re high, San?”. He couldn’t bring his mind to logically answer to that, not because he wasn’t sober -even when he was he couldn’t answer to that- but because there was no answer to his liking that could explain that.

Exiting the -God knows what type of- place he was in, all the streets were empty. The dim yellow lighting from the streetlights was the only thing that helped him walk on the sidewalk and not in the middle of the road. His jacket felt heavier than ever, but the cold breeze of the spring night didn’t let him take it off. He walked slowly, his mind going dizzier by the bright lights of the ‘twenty four hours open’ little shops that were there for people who were out for the night, like him.

He walked past one of them and, turning his head to the right, he thought he saw you in there. His eyes widened but after a while, your -almost too real form- vanished proving him that this was just his mind playing tricks at 3:30AM. San shook his head in an attempt to make it see things as they were but as he kept walking, he passed in front of a dark alley in which two dudes were smoking something illegal, probably. His heart skipped two or three beats when he thought he saw you there again. This time though, he wasn’t so naïve. He shook his head harder and when he opened his eyes again, he was sure you weren’t there. His legs continued walking on their own. The sounds of the meager cars passing by him, echoed in his ears making his head throb at the too much noise pollution. He thought he saw you everywhere…

He didn’t have a final destination when he left the bar, he walked and walked but when he reached your neighborhood, he felt like he was finally home.

Your bell rang, echoing in the silent apartment, and you flinched at the unexpected visit at such hour. Your eyes left the tv and, walking to the door, you looked through the peephole before opening it with a heavy heart. And there he was, at your doorstep. Again. His eyes filled with lust and need like every other time but, this time, there was something else there too that you couldn’t figure out. You’re tired, so tired of it, but you can’t bring yourself to refuse to his request…to refuse to him.

“I was so worried”, he said with heavy eyes, his hand against the door frame, holding him up “why didn’t you answer to my calls, I didn’t know if you were okay”

“you need to leave, San”

“let me stay just for the night”

It’s funny how many times you’ve heard that sentence leaving his plump lips and it’s even funnier that you let him stay every time, even though things always end up the same. With you under him and his lips on your hot flesh that feels like it needs him and only him.

…And his lips were on yours in a second, this time too, after the door was shut close. His hands all over your body worshiping the curves sculpted by heaven itself or so he thought. San got rid of his jacket fast, that was now laying on the wooden floor of your small living room and his shoes were here and there as he took them off without glancing at them. He was too busy sucking on your neck, marking it, making it his but at the same time, not his, at all.

Your mind said no, but your heart could only scream yes. You could smell every single drop of alcohol he’s consumed tonight, you could sense every bit of need in his actions and every bit of desire in his breathy moans against your neck, but not a single hint of love.

His body was so close to yours, you could feel every inhale and exhale and he kept coming closer, moving your body backwards until you reached the plum bedroom. He knew your house better than you at this point, but what hurt you the most is that he also knew your body better than you. He’s kissed, marked, licked, explored all of it and you’d lie if you said you didn’t like it. But it hurt.

San reached for the hem of your white t-shirt and only detached his lips from your neck for a second to take it off. Like a starved man, he attacked your lips moaning your name in the process. Before you could think of it, he started unbuttoning his own shirt and once it was completely open, your fingertips moved to his exposed body like they had a mind of their own. You caressed the toned chest and flexed abs up and down the same way your tongue had done millions of times before. He moaned in your mouth and your knees weakened.

Your body was aching both because of need and pain. San always kept coming back to you and the gullible hope in your heart, always thought it was because he wanted you like you wanted him. He needed you like you needed him…with the actual meaning of the word, not just for the animalistic drunk sex you had.

He pushed you on the edge of the bed and slid your pajama pants to your ankles till they were off and thrown somewhere on the floor along with his own. You crawled further up the bed as he got rid of his boxers, like it was the most useless piece of clothing ever. His cock sprung up, red, swollen, needy as always, with pre-cum already leaking from the tip and you knew how this would go but you still stayed there, anticipating for it.

You only needed him to care. You only needed to wake up the next morning and find him next to you on the bed, but it never went like this.

He crawled on top of you and before he could move, you held his wrists tightly. You just wanted to see him for a bit, to know that he was really there, to let him know that this means more than he thinks to you…and he stayed. He stayed staring at you and you felt like this was the first time he’s ever looked in your eyes. You always thought his face was a masterpiece, a painting in a museum where all other works of art would be jealous of the beauty it held. His lips were always red and plump, his nose high and elegant like a Greek god’s and his eyes…these were your favorite. They held the entire sky and all of galaxy’s stars, no matter how corny that sounds.

“I don’t have a condom”, he broke the silence but you expected that from him, he couldn’t keep himself any longer, probably.

“you never do”

“you’re on birth control, right?”

“yeah”

“that’s my baby”

He kissed your temple and you wished he could, for once, mean both the “my” and the kiss.

“you’ll do as I say and you won’t come before a let you?”

“yes”

San was always slightly aggressive when drunk, but especially talkative and very much horny.

He lowered his body until his face was in between your legs and grasping your thighs, he didn’t even dare to take your panties off. The fabric was in between his fingers in a second and when he slid it to the side, he pecked your clit softly. The familiar tingling feeling washed your spine. He ran his tongue along the entirety of your center, collecting some of your silk and once it was down his throat, he pressed his tongue on the bundle of nerves. Your eyes shut close fast and a small moan left your lips, and before you could even get used to his actions, he puckered his lips and sucked hard “o-ohmygod”

You grabbed his hair and your fingers got clumsily tangled in the waves. Your hips backed up asking for more but he only dug his fingers on the soft flesh of your thighs, keeping you down and open for him to do as he wished. The lewd sounds of your silk getting sucked echoed in the silent apartment, driving you crazy and you felt your center burn. San’s eyes were closed until he took one hand away from your thigh to wipe the wetness from your cunt, before pushing two digits in. “holy shit-”

He only moaned at your curse as he synchronized the quick thrusting of his fingers with the lapping of his tongue and you pulled his hair when you felt your climax reaching you “S-San imgonna come”.

“don’t you dare baby”

He took his face away from your cunt and brought it on your level, but the thrusting of his fingers quickened making your eyes roll back and your head pin to the pillow. “let me see that pretty face of yours”, he groaned and pulled your chin down. You couldn’t care less at how he stared you, you only needed to chase after your orgasm even if he told you not to. The sounds from between your legs got squelchier and he bit his bottom lip in an attempt to make his hand keep going. You moaned loudly when your legs started trembling and San pulled his fingers out of you fast.

You whined at the sudden lack of penetration but he straddled you and brought his fingers to your lips, tapping them softly “open up”. You did and he inserted them to the pit, making you gag but as he pulled them slowly backwards you got to taste yourself, moaning both at the taste and the feeling of his fingers in your mouth. San twitched.

“I think you should be a good girl and fall on all fours, mhm?”

He said and took your underwear off as he left your lap. He always loved it doggy and as you held yourself up and turned around, he grabbed your hips bringing them higher than the rest of your body. Your face fell on the mattress and before you could see him from the corner of your eye, a loud smack landed on your ass.

“fuck baby, why so sensitive today?”

The way you backed your hips down made him wonder what changed today. You usually push them higher to earn more but not this time.

“I need you San-”

“you need what?”

“you”

He caressed the reddened flesh before landing another, harder smack on it “you need what?”

“your cock-”

“that’s right”

“inside me, pplease”

He guided himself to your entrance but only nudged it up and down, earning a loud sigh from you.

“San- please”

“I love it when you beg”

“fuck please”

Every pleading felt like music to his ears. He adored it when the walls of your pride fell apart for him, mostly because he knew you weren’t like this in other spectrums of your life. You never begged anyone for anything, but you did beg him because you needed him.

“your pretty begs only get me harder, babygirl”

Your heart clenched at the nickname “please San, let me feel you”

“only because it’s you”

He took his hand off his member and held on your sides as he pushed in slowly, groaning at the tightness around him.

“fuck yes”

It felt more relieving than painful and you sighed loudly at the long-awaited stretch. He went halfway in before drawing his hips back and snapping them forward again. His hands roamed your sides, moving you against his dick slowly and it would feel like lovers making love, if only there was the tiniest hint of love hidden in his actions or words. Sometimes it fooled you, making you feel like there really is something bigger there, something that could grow and even reach the level of love but you were wrong. If love exists in one party, it can never be called proper love…

His thrusts started getting faster and you clutched on the sheets on each side of your body for support. The force of his hips made you bounce against him and every time he drew back and in again, your bodies collided rhythmically.

“shit-”

San’s eyes narrowed as he tried to thrust faster, but he didn’t warn you, and once he bottomed out, a loud cry got mixed with your whimpers. Your knees weakened and you felt like collapsing while San only went faster, shortening his thrusts but hitting deep.

“S-San”

You tried to hold his thigh as your legs spread further without realizing, but he grabbed your knees and brought them up as they should be again. You cried out and pushed your ass up to help him reach deeper but he throbbed and the groan the left him came from deep in his chest.

“d-do you like that?”

“ohmygodd”

He slapped your ass and it hurt more than before but a smile creeped up your lips knowing how you would see his mark on you the next morning, once again. When your hand on his thigh got held, it took you by surprise. Your wrist was in his palm and, in a moment, he brought it up on his lips and kissed it softly contrasting the way his hips treated yours.

“fuck baby, you’re so good”

“San I’m-”

“come for me”, he almost growled and wrapped his hand around your throat to bring you up against his chest. The warmth on your back made you give yourself completely in him. He held you as he wished, he moved you as he wished, he fucked you as he wished…and you could only love it. Your head fell back, on his shoulder and you could see him from a new angle. His jaw was clenched and sweat was already dripping from the side of his face. He looked too good like that.

He saw you staring at him and the exposed flesh of your neck was more than enough to occupy his lips. He kissed on it like when he first came in your apartment tonight, but this time he nibbled and sucked more gently. He wanted to hear all your sounds, to know that he was the one responsible for them. Your eyes rolled on the back of your head when he hit your g-spot and his lips on your neck made it feel like heaven. He twitched and let a deep groan tickle your skin, you felt him trembling…

Cries of his name rolled off your tongue and your walls clenched hard. He held your side tightly with his left hand while the other was still around your throat, holding gently rather than harshly. His thrusts began to slow down and get longer but your mind went dizzier and dizzier. It was like you were drunk on the pain of him not loving you back instead of the bliss he was sending you to. There was no way you could take it anymore, you couldn’t keep bearing this pain, you needed him to be with you on daylight too, not only during the night when he’s drunk and in need of your comfort.

“baby-”

“San…pplease come-”

Your voice was desperate and almost a real cry as your climax got over you and you came around him, trembling and falling forward but he kept you steady. He forced his hips forward, with heavy pants and quivering thighs.

“can I stay afterwards?”, he spoke softly even though he was on the verge too.

“you already are”

“not only till the sun rises”

He kissed your lips and came with a deep groan, painting you like a canvas.

[kareofbears]

plainly in truth, chapter 3/5

"Without you around, it's sorta like stuff is just kinda...bleh."

—

Or: hiding, confiding, and misguiding.

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

Ryuji grips the letter like it was silver and he was a werewolf in the full moon.

He picks it up, skims over the first line before putting it down beside him, feeling worse every time he does it, only able to read the fine-printed lettering from the flickering lamp post above him. The constant change in light would normally bug him, but he doesn’t really care about it now; it’s not like the words would change in his hand, and he’s long since needed to actually read it to know what it reads.

His feet dangle over the canal, enjoying the way a rush of adrenaline would go through him when he looks down into the deep waters. It’s late enough in the night that even with the city lights around him, he can’t gauge how deep it goes.

Soseikawa Park was only a five minute walk from Odori Park, but with the narrow river and steeped hills, Ryuji found it secluded enough to let himself sit. Breathe. Not exist, even for just a few minutes. It’s like having his own bedroom, except it smells faintly like a sewer and there’s an intersection about ten meters above where he sat underneath the overpass. If he can ignore the never-ending rumble of cars and trucks driving above him, it can almost be considered peaceful.

He lets himself fall back, the grass tickling the back of his neck and his spine screaming in relief. They’re heading out again in two days, which means more days of being in an inescapable RV surrounded by his best friends who are keeping an eye on him because they’re good people who don’t know how to mind their own fucking business.

Idly, he lets his hands pull and brings it to his face—blades of grass. He lets it get taken by the wind. After brief consideration, he shoves the letter back into his pocket before he can do the same thing to it.

He is so tired.

Blindly, he hits the vague area of where his pocket is and fishes out his phone, hitting the first speed dial before he can talk himself out of it. As two rings go by, he stupidly hopes that she doesn’t pick up, as if she hasn’t ever missed a phone call from him even when she’s at work.

The third ring gets cut off halfway through. “Ryu!”

Despite himself, he grins. “Hey, ma. Checking in for the weekly call.”

“I was just thinking about you,” she says, and he can hear the laundry machine run in the background. “I was wondering if you had eaten today.”

“Ma, you ain’t gotta worry about that kinda thing anymore. I’m a big boy now.”

“You’re breaking my heart!” He can almost see her, phone tucked in the crook of her neck, work-worn hands folding her laundry as fast as she can so as to not hold up the next person in line. “It doesn’t matter how big you are, you’re my boy. How can I not think about whether my boy is eating or not?”

“All I’ve done on this trip is eat, ma.”

“Oh, and Akira! How’s that handsome boy doing? Still taking the world by storm?”

That pulls a genuine laugh from him—he never needs to hold back when it comes to talking about Akira, at least. “You know it. He’s the only guy in the world who can stand toe-to-toe with me in chowing down. I swear, he’s slipping some of it under the table ‘cause he’s so damn fast. Forty seconds! Forty seconds to inhale an extra large beef bowl! Blows my mind, seriously.”

“Could never do anything in halves, can he?” she chuckles, before the quality of her voice shifts. “And are you enjoying yourself?”

He hesitates. “Yeah, of course. It’s a roadtrip across Japan, how can I not?”

“Good.” There’s some crackling over the receiver, and he guesses she’s probably adjusting the basket full of clothes on her hip. “That’s all I want to hear. As long as you’re happy, Ryu, I’m a happy old woman.”

Ryuji opens his mouth, ready to console her.

I’m always happy!

You worry too much, ma.

There’s nothing to worry about.

“Sorry, but,” he swallows thickly. “I think they’re calling for me? So—”

“Alright,” she says, and he might be imagining the disappointed tinge to it. “Call back when you can, okay sweetheart? I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he clears his throat. “I love you, ma.”

“I love you too, Ryu.”

He hangs up, letting the phone slip out of his fingers. It lands hard on the flat grass

For a long moment, he just lays there, listening to the gentle lapping waves and cars honking with impatience of people who have somewhere to be. He tries to meditate for half a minute, with all the information he had learned from a couple of YouTube videos, and gives up, because of course he does. Squeezing his eyes shut, he can’t do anything about the creeping dread that’s in his stomach getting stronger, squeezing and squeezing until he feels sick. It’s like his insecurities are having this huge fight against each other, feeding off of one another until it gets too big for him to handle and all he can do is breathe and try to do something about it.

And he’s fucking sick of it—breathing. He’s sick of the stupid breathing techniques, sick of counting down from ten and waiting for his own heart to chill out because his brain won’t stop reminding him of everything he did wrong, of shit he’s still doing wrong because at least this way, nobody knows what he did was wrong. It’s just him that can point and laugh at himself, and that’s way better than having the world do it for him.

He doesn’t cry, because he’s not a crier. He’s the type of guy to throw a fist through drywood before shedding a tear, and he hates that about himself. Rather than do something that will actually help, Ryuji lays there, perfectly still. Listening. Waiting for a meteor to fall on him, or for the overpass to crash its entire weight on top of him.

Instead, he hears footsteps.

His heart rate slows by a fraction, and opens his eyes to meet gray ones. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Akira says, a smile in his voice. “How did you know it was me?”

Ryuji almost feels offended. He would know Akira by sound alone, the way his heels would click in the Metaverse. The way the balls of his feet would strike the earth, hardly muffled by grass or cheap sneakers or anything else as trivial. Ryuji would know he was there; no matter how blind he was with hatred for himself, his love for Akira would always guide him back to where he needs to be.

“Lucky guess.”

“One hell of a guess.” He plops down onto the grass and Ryuji lifts his head, allowing Akira to wiggle until he could use his lap as a pillow. “Your turn,” Akira says.

“My turn to what?”

“To ask me how I knew where you were.”

“Oh.” He lets his eyes slide shut again. “I kinda just assumed you could do that.”

“You assume too much of me sometimes.”

“I assume the right amount.” Ryuji refuses to shiver when he feels long fingers start to card through his hair. “You’re giving me goosebumps,” he sighs.

“That’s a good thing, I think.” The fingers pull away and he’s about to complain when he feels something gets thrown over his torso. “Here. You always end up forgetting to wear an extra layer when you go out like this.”

Ryuji rearranges Akira’s jacket over himself. “Sap.”

“You know it.” He resumes combing through his hair, and Ryuji lets himself relax, just a little. It’s strange—it’s hard as hell being around other people nowadays, and even though Akira can make him feel that sometimes, mostly it helps the eternal twisting of his stomach to settle.

“You’re good at that,” Ryuji mutters.

“Thank you. I’ve had plenty of practice with Morgana.” And just to make it worse, he uses a little bit of nail on his nape, sending electricity running down all the way to his fingertips.

His mouth twists unhappily. “Don’t do shit like that while talking about the cat, for the love of god.”

Akira does it again, like the little shit he is. “You still have that weird thing with your neck?”

“Quit it!” Ryuji slaps his thigh and he can’t muster much anger when he can feel Akira’s shoulders shake from silent laughter. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“You’re right.” Gently, softly, like the world’s lightest feather, he feels lips brush his temple. “I’m funnier.”

His eyes open, and his entire vision is obscured by curly black hair and tender eyes. “You’re right,” he breathes. “You’re funnier.”

Akira bends down again, and Ryuji catches his lips, overflowing with something soft but unafraid, and it’s so good that Ryuji reaches for his cheek just to make it last a little bit longer.

When they break off, Akira kisses his temple again, this time on the left side. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Uh,” he scratches his head, brain a little fuzzy. “Tuesday?”

“It’s Wednesday, and I meant the date. It’s August tenth.”

“Okay?”

Akira thumbs at his collarbone. “I know this might be a little lame that I know it by heart, but I left Tokyo on March 19th. That would mean it’s been—”

“One hundred forty-four days since you moved away,” he finishes. “I know.”

Akira blinks, and then laughs, and Ryuji knows it’s an especially good one because sound actually comes out this time. “Yes,” he says, elated. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“I told you dude, we’re really on that telepathy shit.”

“We really are.” A pause. “I miss you.”

He’s about to joke—I’m right here, you big dummy—but find that he just can’t. “I miss you too.”

They can’t say what they mean: I will miss you. Summer vacation doesn’t last forever, and two months will always be a hell of a lot shorter than the rest of the ten months that they’ll be apart. Somehow, he dreads seeing Akira gone, and he’ll dread seeing Akira back in Tokyo because it would mean that he’d actually have to see what Ryuji’s really like. Actively pushing away his best friend just so he doesn’t have to see his failures; doesn’t that just make him the worst piece of shit in the world?

There’s a gap, though. A little loophole. A crack in the timeline. A place where maybe he’s allowed to be a hollowed out version of happy; the now.

“Tomorrow’s our last day in Sapporo?”

“Yeah?” Akira replies, surprised at the change in tone.

“Which means Jail stuff is done, right? All your grocery shopping and Sophia Prime’s been ordered and packed up?”

“Yes,” he says, a lilt in his voice. “It’s all done.”

Ryuji sits up and faces him, reaching for his wrists, relishing in the heartbeat thumping against his palms. “Let’s do something. I don’t care what, but let’s do something. Eat at a diner, go to a museum, rob a bank, whatever.” He runs his thumb along the veins there, long since those bumps have been ingrained in his brain. “Let’s do something, just you and me.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Sakamoto?” He has a cocky look in his eye, and Ryuji’s half-tempted to kiss him again just to wipe it clean off his face. “You know I’d follow you anywhere.”

He knows. That’s the scary part. Would Akira still follow someone he doesn’t know as well as he thinks he does? “I’ll get us lost,” he jokes.

Akira doesn’t laugh. “I’d rather be lost with you than learn to lose you.”

It’s been ages since he’s been flustered at anything Akira does, but he feels a rush of heat crawl up his neck. “I’ll—” Ryuji shakes his head, willing his embarrassment to go away. “Shit, uh—”

“I’ll pick where to go,” he interrupts, a little too smug for his liking. “I’d say I’ll pick you up at your place, but…”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a comedian,” Ryuji rolls his eyes. “I’ll be ready whenever.”

“Fantastic.” Akira checks his phone, wincing. “It’s late.”

He grips his wrist tightly. “I know.”

Thankfully, he’s never needed to explain much to Akira. “Okay,” he says softly. “Ten more minutes?”

“Yeah.” He lets his eyes slide shut once more, letting out a breath. The world will keep spinning. His stomach will keep twisting. Time will keep marching on, but at least he has this. “Ten minutes sounds good.”

—

The first words that Futaba says as she enters the RV was: “Oh, hell.”

“Hello Futaba-chan, Yusuke-kun,” Haru greets cheerfully from the booth. “How was your shopping trip?”

“...Fine,” she replies, stepping aside to let him in, lugging a four-foot tall canvas in his arms that accidentally hits the ceiling. “Got a new Featherman action figure.”

“I got a canvas,” Yusuke answers from behind the wall of white. “Though I assume you can see that.”

“I can.” Her smile doesn’t falter, and it’s making the hair on Futaba’s nape rise like a nervous animal. “Quick question, since you both are here…”

Haru pulls a tote bag from underneath the table, and it’s so heavy that when she throws it on the table, her teacup nearly topples over. “Would you like to take a guess of what’s in this bag?”

A billion jokes pop into Futaba’s head, but both of them stay silent, terrified and confused. They both knew this was coming, but they didn’t expect her to be so forward about it.

“I suppose that’s a pretty strange question, I’m sorry. Let me try again.” She reaches in and pulls out thick, heavy textbooks, all brightly coloured and consist of beaming, diverse students on the front cover. “Care to tell me why you were both looking at cram books while we’re on our fun roadtrip?”

Yusuke pushes Futaba aside, eyes on the books and wide with shock. “You bought them?!” he exclaims.

“Wait—” Futaba hops repeatedly, trying to catch a glimpse from over his shoulder. “You bought all of them?”

“Of course.”

“But why?”

She thinks about it for a moment. “Hmm, think about it this way. If Akira’s in charge of the group as a whole, and Makoto’s in charge of the more analytical aspect of things, think of me as a somewhat stern yet loving parent who doesn’t quite know how to mind their own business.”

“I thought that was Ann’s job,” Futaba mutters, heart hammering in her chest.

“Now,” Haru leans forward, and as if to prove her role, speaks in a gentle tone. “I’m not mad at you. That would be ridiculous. But I saw you two looking at these books, and I know how expensive they can be, so I’ll give them to you.”

She blinks. “You would?”

“Absolutely!” Haru smiles wide. “On the condition that you tell me why you need them.”

Futaba and Yusuke exchange a glance, before Futaba makes a T with her hands. “Timeout!” she yells, dragging Yusuke by the collar out of the RV.

“What do we do?” he whispers once the door is shut. “It’s not as if we can tell her.”

“I don’t know, maybe we should?” she pushes up her glasses. “Damn, the things money can buy you. Our vow of silence is getting thrown out the window for two handfuls of yen.”

He looks her dead in the eyes. “I would tell the world my deepest secrets if it meant having lifetime access to a grocery store.”

“Don’t say that, you sellout!”

“I’m not selling out. My art already reveals the deepest portion of my soul, it’s not my fault that the common observers cannot pick up what I’m putting down.” He squints against the setting sun. “She’s waiting. What do we do?”

“Okay, okay, okay, just let me—” her mind whirrs rapidly, and for a second she really feels like Sophia. “Give me a second.”

“I have a suggestion,” he points at her. “If we’re not averse to lying, let’s tell them that you need them for school. You’re struggling with academics, you need a bit of outside help, so we took a look at the textbooks.”

“Good idea! Wait.” She frowns. “They’ll never buy it. Let’s say that you need them.”

“I’m at the top of my class!”

“But they don’t know that!” She balls her fists together, determined. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“I didn’t say yes to this.”

Futaba kicks the door open, making Haru pause wiping her spilt drink mid-stroke. “Inari’s struggling with his classes!”

“I—“ Yusuke stammers. “Yes,” he confirms. “I’m struggling with my classes. They’re mighty indeed, and even I find them difficult. I am...struggling.”

Haru looks at them doubtfully. “Yusuke is?”

“I am,” he answers as Futaba says, “He is.”

“Yusuke,” she repeats, gesturing to the neatly-stacked pile of textbooks on the table. “Is struggling with precalculus?”

They stare at her. “Yes,” Yusuke says, slowly. “I am struggling with previous calculus.”

“Out of curiosity, Yusuke,” Haru scratches her cheek. “Do you know what a parabola is?”

“Of course I do,” he replies with the wisdom of a thousand monks. “It’s a self-contradictory statement.”

“That’s a paradox,” Makoto corrects from the steering wheel.

“What the heck?” Futaba jumps a foot in the air. “Why are you here? Why were you hiding?”

“I like to sit here a few hours before we start another road trip,” she says, before glaring at them. “You two. Does this have to do with Ryuji?”

“T-timeout!”

Futaba makes a beeline to the door again, but Haru’s faster. She slips past them, standing in their way, perfect smile still in place. Sometimes Futaba forgets how strong she is in negotiations; her and Yusuke were probably tutorial levels compared to the upper management of Okumura Foods. “Answer her question, please.”

Yusuke sighs, tired. “You know what you’re asking for, don’t you? If we tell you what’s happening here, it would be breaking the trust of one of our teammates.”

“Yusuke!” Futaba hisses. “Are you really thinking about telling them? It’s not even our secret to tell.”

“No, it isn’t.” He makes eye contact with Makoto. “But she made a point. What would make us better friends: if we kept a secret to the grave while letting him suffer, or tell someone who can help even if it means being some sort of tattletale?”

“But…” she trails off, resolve crumbling. “Dude. It’s going to suck so much.”

“I know.” He pats her head, before moving to Ryuji’s backpack once more. “Don’t worry, I’m willing to take his anger if need be.” Yusuke gestures to the booth. “Everyone, take a seat. It’s about time this finally gets cleared up.”

Smoothing out the envelope in his hand, even more crumpled than when they had it last, he clears his throat, takes one last glance at Futaba to make sure. At her tentative nod, he begins to read its contents in a loud, clear voice.

When he finishes, they sit there, staring at the thick paper in silence.

“Oh my god,” Makoto breathes. “I knew it was bad, but—”

Haru shakes her head. “Not this bad. And he talked about it so much, but we didn’t even…” she glances down at the textbooks, idly rubbing its spine. “I didn’t think much of it.”

“None of us did,” Yusuke says. “But does that make it any better?”

They fall in silence again, but Futaba can hear the answer loud and clear. Hell no.

The door opens forcefully, pulling them out of their stupor.

“What’s up, my beloved friends!” Ann calls, shopping bags in tow. “God, I’m gonna miss Sapporo. Things here are so cheap compared to Tokyo, sheesh!” She sets them down, laughing when nobody says anything. “Jeez, what’s going on? Did I miss something?”

“Ann-chan,” Haru says carefully, all sense of cheer, for intimidation or otherwise, gone. “Take a seat. There’s something you should know.”

—

The Ferris wheel looms over them, blocking out most of the sunset behind it. “Nice,” Ryuji grins appreciatively. “I should’ve seen this one coming.”

“You should’ve,” Akira agrees, tugging him into the open carriage. He goes in willingly. “It was staring at you the whole time we’re in Sapporo. And besides, every romantic movie has a Ferris wheel scene, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yeah? Name one.”

“Death note.”

Ryuji makes a face, and Akira laughs. “Yeah, I know. Bad example.”

It’s a tight squeeze but they sit next to each other, ignoring the bench in front of them. The seats are hot, and even though it’s nearly evening, the heat barely eases up on them. Still, he finds himself pressing himself against Akira. He runs cold, much colder than Ryuji; narrow wrists are ice, prominent collarbones frost.

The two of them lean over the window, pointing out random scenery as if it were the first time they were seeing them. Restaurants, statues. Weird looking cars and flower beds. Decorated high rises and insects that fly by. It’s like they were tourists, or a retired couple who just want to travel the world. He’s never wanted to be old before, but Akira always has a way of making him change his mind.

Like clockwork—Ryuji makes a joke. Akira laughs. His heart feels lighter.

When he finds himself leaning against him, feet up on the bench, Akira wraps his arms around his shoulders unhesitatingly. Ryuji wonders if he can hear the way his heart thuds inside his bones. He wonders if he knows it's for him. The Ferris wheel stops, right at the very top, gently swaying like it were a giant cradle. They’re not very high up, but it’s far enough that he feels like he’s left the entire world behind.

Ryuji presses his lips against those wrists, relishing in the way he can feel the heartbeat increase. “You nervous?”

He can feel his head shake behind him. “I’m happy, I think,” Akira says in a hushed voice, like it was a secret, like it was a sin.

A breeze flows through, and Ryuji closes his eyes when lips press against just below his ear.

Would it be worth it to have a Palace? A Jail? Would it be worth it to lose himself, just to be in this moment for the rest of time?

Carefully, he flips himself sideways, just so he can press more of himself against Akira. The carriage rocks gently, and the metal bench underneath them is sharp and uncomfortable. Arms tighten around him. Chest to back, knee to knee, they couldn’t be closer, but Ryuji leans back, wanting nothing more than to bottle the rhythm of his breathing and the smell of his soap.

I’m happy, too, I think, he wants to say. If we stayed like this for the rest of our lives, until our skin is permanently tattooed into the hot steel and our bones are the only thing they take out of this bench because the rest of us had already rotted, then I’d be pretty damn happy.

Craning his neck backwards, Akira is already staring.

Then he’s kissing him—once, twice, again and again, and Ryuji realizes that something’s different. This wasn’t the kind of kiss he was used to. There was a desperate air to it, an urgent edge from both of them that neither was ready for. Stealing each other’s breath and giving it back; the cycle continues, the clock keeps ticking.

Ryuji pulls himself up, not breaking the kiss, cupping his cheek and soaking him in like a flower to the sun; an endless yearning, like he’d shrivel up and suffocate if it vanished. The sun framed Akira, and for a split second, he feels like he understands what Yusuke sees on a canvas.

When they part, foreheads leaning against each other, Ryuji lifts a trembling hand to wipe the tear that rolled down Akira’s cheek.

“What’s up?” he asks softly. “Is something wrong?”

“I feel like you’re a miracle, Ryuji.”

How do you respond to that? When the person who said it feels like they’re the one who’s magic, who’s too good to be true?

“Fuck miracles,” he says, pulling Akira in again.

—

The circuit felt like it ended too soon, but it’s night when they finally stepped off, holding hands and faces flushed. He hopes the ride operator doesn’t hate them, but he’s in too good of a mood to really complain.

Ryuji stops in his tracks when he sees who’s in front of them.

“Ann?” Akira questions, taken aback. Eyes dark and brows pulled close together, clutching her purse like a weapon of war—she looks like she’d just seen someone set an orphanage on fire.

Her voice is shockingly deep, gaze fixed on Ryuji. “I’m borrowing him for a second.”

Before either of them can say anything, Ann takes him by the bicep, and he can only glance at Akira before he’s dragged back into the Ferris wheel.

“Did you even pay—?”

“Don’t start,” she hisses, pushing him on the bench, hard. “Don’t you dare start, you damn liar.”

His blood runs cold. “What?”

No. That’s impossible.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” She shoves her hand in her bag and throws something rubber at him. “Do you know how long it took me to find a good one here? I spent my entire day in the shopping district—not looking for clothes, or shoes, or whatever the hell I thought would be fun. No, I spent our last day in Sapporo looking for that.”

Ryuji looks down at the hot compress in his hands, a lump in his throat.

“Because you weren’t doing anything to your knee,” she continues, jaw tight. “Despite me trying my best to help you get better. I thought that you must’ve been really fan-freaking-tastic at hiding the pain that you told me about. That I trusted was the truth because you’re one of my best friends and I trust you. I trust you with my life, my secrets—” Ann grits her teeth. “What the hell?”

“How did you find out?” he asks hoarsely.

She knows. If she knows, they could know. If they could know—

“Damn you, it doesn’t matter how I found out!” she throws her hands in the air, voice so hurt that it twists his insides impossibly tighter. “You think I would care? You think that this is important enough to lie to me about? Dammit, I don’t care that you—”

“Don’t say it,” he begs. “Please.”

“I don’t give a single shit that you failed second-year, Sakamoto!”

Her words ring against the steel walls, deafening.

Bile crawls up his esophagus, and he readies himself for another attack. But for some strange reason, his vision doesn’t blur. Instead, anger kicks in like it always does.

“You don’t care?” he asks, incredulous. “This doesn’t even have anything to do with you!”

“It does when you lie to me about it!” she yells back. “Do you not care about me? About your friends who would go to hell and back for you?”

“How dare you—!”

“You lied to me, you hid it from everyone else, you ignored our advice because it doesn’t mean shit to you.” She points a finger at him. “And look where that got you.”

“Shut up.”

“We all noticed, you know! Each and every one of us noticed that something was up, even the literal robot—”

“Shut the hell up, Ann.”

“And for what? All you accomplished was hurt our feelings, hold in yours, and keep it from the love of your life—”

Ryuji stands up, rocking the carriage and nearly toppling Ann off her feet.

“It’s because I fucking hate myself!”

She grips the barred window, eyes wide. They stare each other down for a few long moments, before the ride comes to an abrupt end. The door swings open, allowing a cheery greeting from the oblivious employee.

And then Ann sighs, shoulders deflating. “Come on,” she jerks her head to the door, before stepping out herself. “Let’s go.”

“What?” he asks, puzzled. “Where?”

“If we’re going to delve into the psyche of Sakamoto Ryuji, we might as well do it with some food in front of us.”

—

The cafe Ann takes him to is bright, filled with pastries and crowded with people—stools are pastel blue, baristas are wearing cute bowties, and each cup of coffee comes with an alarming amount of whipped cream on top. Sojiro would have a heart attack if he walked three kilometers of this place, but Ryuji’s glad that the resemblance is far and away than that of Leblanc.

The booth is pressed into the corner of it all; up against the window and far enough from the main bustle that they’d have to really put their all into it if they wanted to take their order. On one side sat Futaba, nervously tracing shapes on the window while Haru sits beside her. The opposite end has Yusuke and Makoto.

They all look up when they hear the bell chime, and Ryuji almost laughs. “It’s been a long ass time since I’ve seen you guys look so serious,” he remarks, sliding next to Makoto while Ann sits next to Haru. “Where’s the food at? Come on guys, food’s good for you.”

He raises a hand. “Excuse me! We’re ready!”

“Ryuji,” Futaba’s voice is brittle. “I—”

“Hold on shorty,” he reaches to pat her head, voice coming out soft. “We’ll get to that. I promise.”

A waiter comes, takes their drink order, and leaves. When he does, Yusuke places a heavy hand on the table. “I was the one who told everyone.”

“That’s not true!” Futaba cries out, and everyone jerks back in shock. “That’s bull! I’m the one who told him to go through your stuff ‘cause he was worried about you, but I’m the one who actually—”

“No, I’m the one at fault here,” Haru casts her gaze downwards. “It was really none of my business, but I forced these two to tell everyone here. I’m so sorry—”

Ryuji sighs. “Guys, it’s fine.” He’s met with an incredulous look. “Okay, it isn’t, but none of this is your fault, you know? I’m not mad.” His gaze shifts to Ann. “But you’re allowed to be mad at me. I know I shouldn’t have hidden it.”

She gives him a weighted look. “Then why did you do it?”

“Ann,” Makoto warns.

“No, I’m not budging on this.” She leans forward. “He lied to me. Lying doesn’t get you anywhere good. That was really stupid of you.”

“Ann!” Futaba cuts in, horrified.

“You’ve seen what happened with Shiho.” Ryuji flinches back like he’s been hit. He knows. Ann knows he knows. But she keeps going anyway. “She lied to me about what was happening, and I lied to her back. It kept going and going, and—” she snaps her fingers. “She’s gone from my life. For how long? I don’t know, maybe until we graduate. Maybe until her rehab ends. Maybe longer. Who knows? All I know is if we had just—talked, or—” Ann shakes her head, frustrated. “From the start. Tell us what happened. And afterwards, let us help you, or I swear to god I’m going to cry, and I know you can’t stand it when people cry.”

The silence is deafening, even with the clamor of people and voices around them.

Ryuji lets out a breath. “Yeah, alright.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You will?”

“I will,” he repeats, idly checking his pulse. Heart rate is a little quick, but in no danger of having another breakdown. “I’ll tell you everything.”

The waiter chooses that time to drop off their drinks; all cold except Haru, nursing a hot cup of tea. They definitely didn’t buy enough to justify the god-knows-how-long they’re going to spend here, but they’re just gonna have to suck it up.

“Alright,” he starts when they’re alone again. “We going from the start?”

“The very beginning,” Ann confirms.

With one last glance at his friends, he sighs, sits up straight, and flashes them the biggest grin he can muster:

“Hi,” he greets. “I’m Sakamoto Ryuji, and I failed my second-year of high school.”

No one’s expression shifts, not even an inch. He can’t help but be a little impressed. “You guys know that I’ve never been the greatest with books. Shit, screw greatest—I’ve ranked bottom five ever since I started middle school. Didn’t help that my leg got fucked to high heaven and everyone started hating me. Nearly dropped out a couple times. Had no one, really. Worst time in my life, hands down.

“So imagine this dumb little kid, middle of April, running into this guy.” Without meaning to, the grin shifts into something more genuine. “Good-looking dude, super smart, real charmer but you wouldn’t be able to tell just by lookin’ at him. And that guy saved my life. Ten, twenty, thirty times over. He was so great that the dumb kid obviously fell in love with him. But what’s even crazier is that the guy fell in love with the dumb little kid, too.

“Crazy, right? Sounds made up, but I promise it’s true.” He catches Futaba’s expression shift to exasperation. “I know, I can’t believe it either.”

“That’s not what I meant, you sap,” she says.

“Yeah, but that dumb little kid,” he explains. “Couldn’t believe it. Literally couldn’t believe it. Thinks that he struck the lottery, struck by damn lightning. I mean—” Ryuji laughs a little. “How can someone so amazing and cool be in love with such a moron? What made it worse…”

He gestures at all of them. “Was that the guy had so many people in his life who was also amazing. His social circle was made up of, and correct me if I’m wrong: a successful journalist, a politician, some dude from the mob, a random child who breaks gaming records on the daily, and I’m not even counting people from this goddamn table. So dumb little kid knows, he fucking knows that somehow, someway, he tricked the cool guy into falling in love with him. The kid sucked, no, sucks,” he corrects. “At everything. Can’t do anything worthwhile.”

“Ryuji…” Haru whispers.

“Almost done, I know it’s running on kinda long,” he promises. “So the dumb little kid became kinda obsessed with the group’s ‘activities’, and it’s obvious why he would, right? If he knows he’s not good enough for the guy he’s in love with, then he can at least try to be. But since he already sucked at school to begin with, dummy over here completely bailed on school and ended up flunking so bad that he failed an entire year.”

An entire year. An entire year.

It’s becoming harder and harder to breathe, but he’d rather get hit by a truck than lose it in front of so many people. Gritting his teeth, he does what he knows is bad, what every google search and YouTube video says you should not do—he pushes his feelings, far and hard away from himself, so far that it’s like it doesn’t even exist.

It works surprisingly well.

“And, uh—” Ryuji clears his throat. “He hid it. Because you know the one, single thing that’s worse than realizing you’re not good enough for the other person?”

No one answers. “Waiting for the day that they realize that you’re not good enough for them.”

“And that’s pretty much the bulk of it.” Reaching for his mug, he takes a sip of his lukewarm lemonade. Damn, he really did talk for a while. “I didn’t want to tell the rest of you because one, it’s really fucking embarrassing that I failed, and two—”

“Akira can’t know,” they all say in unison.

“Exactly, you guys get the point by now.” He drums his fingers against the table, trying to ignore the blatant gloom cast on all of their faces. “Question time starts now, if anyone wants to ask anything.”

Makoto opens her mouth, but he beats her to it. “If anyone even thinks about feeling pity, or be all ‘no, you’re smart actually!’, I am walking out of this cafe and I am not looking back.”

“What about summer school?” Makoto asks immediately. “If you didn’t want us to know, then you could’ve taken that without even telling us.”

“Summer school was never an option.”

“And why not?” she slaps her hand against the table. “It would’ve solved this entire situation!”

“Because Akira was coming home for the summer,” he says simply. “And I wanted to enjoy my time with him without this hanging over my head.”

Her jaw drops open. “But...that’s…”

“Stupid?” he offers. “Idiotic? Really dumb? Potentially throwing away my entire future? Yeah, I gotcha. Another part of it was that the thought of staying at Shujin for another minute makes me want to jump into traffic, if that helps make me look a little better in your mind, miss prez.”

Makoto’s expression of confusion freezes, taken aback by the harshness of his words. Ryuji cringes at himself. “Sorry.”

“No,” she says finally. “The fault is mine. I have no right to judge your actions, or to pretend I know what kind of stress is burdening you.” Hesitating, she asks, “May I request another question?”

“Shoot.”

“What were you going to do when we eventually go back to Tokyo?”

As expected of someone who went head-to-head against the ace detective in front of the entire school; her questions are brutal. “I don’t know, honestly. I was planning on ignoring the problem for now and just sort of,” he gestures vaguely. “Enjoy the summertime sun?”

“A moment,” Haru goes through her bag. “It’s a long story, but I have these—”

The second the books peek out of her tote, he recognizes the cover immediately. “Cram books? You bought some?”

“Yes!” she answers, mistaking his reaction for eagerness. “It’s a very small gesture, but I’d love for you to have them.”

“I—” he leans away from them, breath catching in his throat. “No.”

“No?” she blinks.

“Not now, senpai.” Trying out his new trick again, he forces his heart to slow down, forces his breathing to regulate again without any of the techniques, and forces himself not to feel any of the fear that he’d normally have to go through. It works, but barely. “I’m not—I don’t think I’m ready to deal with that yet.”

“That’s fine.” Haru puts them away, and as hard as he tries, he can still see how dejected she was. “I’ll hold on to them for you.”

“Thank you.” He glances around. “Any last takers? Q&A is almost up.”

“I have one,” Yusuke pipes up.

“Go for it.”

“How are you?” he asks genuinely.

Ryuji can’t help it—a laugh gets pulled out of him. “How am I?” he repeats.

“Yes. How are you?”

“Uh,” he laughs again. “Not good, man. Not good.”

Everyone startles when Ryuji stands abruptly. He slams down the rest of his lemonade, relieved at how it helps his parched throat. “Alrighty, that took a lot out of me! Let’s get out of here, I’m sick of being surrounded by fake coffee and poser cafe fanatics.”

“I’ll take care of the bill,” Haru says, following his lead and scooting out from the booth.

“What? No, come on. I don’t care how rich you are, at least let me pay half.”

“Ryuji.” She looks him dead in the eye. “I’ll take care of the bill.”

“...Yes ma’am.”

Slowly, they all start filing out, some exiting the cafe while Makoto goes to the till with Haru. Ryuji reaches for Ann’s elbow before she can leave. “Hey.”

Turning her head, it’s as if her lips were permanently stitched downwards. “Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry I lied to you,” he says, somber. “That was shitty, and it doesn’t matter what I’m going through—you can’t deal with lies. I get that. I won’t put you through that again.”

Ann kisses her palm before slapping it against his forehead. “You better not,” her voice drips in affection. “You said not to console you—”

“I did, and I meant it.”

“But I’m here for you,” she rubs his skin harder, and he winces at the chafing. “You know that, right? No matter how crazy the shit inside your head gets, I want you to talk to me.”

“I know it,” he says, not just because he wants the friction to ease up. “I know it now, for sure.”

“Good.” Ann releases him, and goes to join Haru and Makoto up front. “You might want to head out. Someone’s starting to make a fuss.”

“What?” he turns around, making direct eye contact with Futaba, nursing a blank expression on her face. “I see.”

The bell chimes once more when he steps out, relieved at the cool summer air that hits him. “Shorty,” he says in lieu of a greeting. “What’s good?”

“Here.” Ryuji glances down at her, who’s holding a familiar, now very-crumpled envelope between her fingers. It’s weird seeing her hold the letter announcing his failure like a bomb, but he understands the sentiment. “I had to show Ann because she wouldn’t believe me until I got some proof.”

“Thank you,” he says, shoving it in his pocket. “I’m not mad at you, you know.”

“I know you’re not.” She swallows and stares down at her shoes. Her laces were covered in little beads and stars, something he had bought for her during a weekend hangout once. “This isn’t me pitying you, or showering you with some kind of boohoo potion.”

She swallows again. “I failed my first year of high school. It was for a completely different reason—guilt for who I thought I killed rather than wanting to be something else. But I know. I know so much about what you’re going through.”

Futaba looks up, and his heart wrenches when he sees the tears in her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry if I made you sad, or that I kept calling you stupid back then,” she sobs. “I don’t mean it, and I’m so mean to you all of the time but I don’t mean any of it. I told everyone your secret because I wanted to—” she hiccups, and she pushes her glasses to the top of her head. “I wanted to give you your own version of what the Phantom Thieves did for me, but I reached out to you guys back then. No one forced me to do anything, but I took that choice away from you.”

He pulls her in his arms, and her tears are hot even through his shirt. “I know, Futaba,” he says, patting her head. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

She hits his chest weakly. “Me taking care of you?” she sniffs. “I’m literally the one crying right now.”

“Just for now though,” he shrugs. “Next time I cry, you’ll be the one handing me tissues, I swear.”

They stand there, the two of them standing in the middle of Sapporo while people give them weird looks—Futaba, unable to stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks, and Ryuji, refusing to ever let his emotions make things worse for everyone else again.

—

When they get back to the RV, each of them emotionally exhausted, Ryuji goes to kiss the top of Akira’s head. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Akira looks up from his card game with Morgana and Sophia. “You look like you had a wild night. Ann take you all somewhere fun?”

“Totally,” he says, sliding the letter back in his backpack. “Best night ever.”

“Take me next time. Sophia’s kicking our ass.”

“She is not!” Morgana denies, tail swishing. “Just a little,” he relents.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” Ryuji announces, hiking his backpack on his shoulders and heading out, before running into Ann outside.

“Oh my god,” she says, disturbed. “He really, really doesn’t know.”

“Yup,” he moves past her. “And we’re keeping it that way.”

[refinedbuffoonery]

Quarantine Moments (5.5)

By popular request, here’s QM #5 from Mac’s POV. This idiot is pining so hard and he doesn’t even realize it. 

*****

Mac watches the sun set behind them in his truck’s side mirror as Riley drives, the sky shifting from blue, to pink, then orange, then a dark burning gold, before fading to inky black. In front of them, the rising moon is barely more than a glowing sliver in the sky, and once they leave SoCal’s sprawling metropolis behind, the vast desert darkness swallows the beams of the truck’s headlights. 

Riley rolls her window down, letting the warm night air tug wisps of hair from her messy bun, and Mac can’t help but watch the way she smiles softly and breathes deeply, completely at peace. He rolls down his own window, and the wind ruffles his hair like a lover’s playful fingers. 

Mac is surprised when Riley parks in the empty campground. He assumed other people would have the same idea, but but as far as he can see, the area is devoid of human life. 

Mac turns his gaze to the glittering sea above. His eyes land on Vega and Arcturus—two of the brightest stars in the sky—before trailing the Milky Way to find Sagittarius along the southern horizon. 

Riley’s soft gasp draws his attention back to earth. Her lips part as she smiles, awestruck, and the stars are reflected in her big, dark eyes, almost as if she’s robbing them of their light. Thankfully Riley doesn’t notice his staring, because Mac can’t bring himself to look away. 

He should. He knows he should. But, for some reason, he can’t. 

Mac is still looking, minutes later, when Bozer yells at him to help make their bed. 

It’s not until he’s lying beside Bozer on the mass of pillows and blankets that Mac realizes how small his truck bed really is. In his mind, they all fit perfectly, but in reality, it’s only wide enough for two grown adults, not three. Mac and Bozer scoot to the sides to give Riley as much space as possible, but their shoulders will be overlapping no matter what. 

Riley’s arm brushes Mac’s as she squeezes her slim frame into the space in the middle, her warmth soaking into his skin. Mac likes her this close, likes her steady, reassuring presence at his side. They used to gravitate toward each other more, before he got back together with Desi, and Mac will never admit it aloud, but he misses the closeness he once had with Riley. 

Quarantining with her, there were moments that felt like their old selves—the people they were back when Jack was still around and their biggest problem was Mac and Riley’s respective daddy issues—but then there would be a long, awkward pause in conversation or Desi would come up, and then that weird gap between them would be right back, wide as ever. 

Mac isn’t sure how it even got there in the first place. 

He tries to forget about it, distracting himself by searching for constellations while he waits for the first meteor to appear. Finally, one does, zipping across the horizon in the blink of an eye. 

“Did you see that?” Bozer squeals.

Riley laughs softly. “Yeah, but I have no idea where it came from, or where I should be looking.” 

Mac opens his mouth to explain, but Bozer beats him to it. “For starters, don’t look straight up. Look near the horizon. As Perseus gets higher in the sky during the night, the meteors will appear to come from higher up too.”

“Thanks.” 

They watch the sky in peaceful silence. 

Eventually, Bozer gets up to pee, and while he’s gone, Riley nudges Mac with her knee. “You’ve been quiet,” she says. 

How is he supposed to say that even though their shoulders are literally touching right now, that even though they’ve been locked in his house together for months, he’s never felt farther away from her? That there’s this ever-widening chasm between them that he doesn’t know how to bridge? 

Mac doesn’t look at her as he speaks, his eyes finding Vega overhead. “Ancient Chinese astronomers believed Vega and Altair were lovers, forever kept apart by the Milky Way.” He points with two fingers, one toward each star. “Vega is one of the brightest stars in the sky. It’s in the constellation Lyra, which just looks like a parallelogram. And over there is Altair, which is part of Aquila, the eagle.”

Riley doesn’t say anything. Mac glances at her in his peripheral vision. She’s squinting slightly, the way she always does when she’s focusing on something. She must not be able to find the stars, he reasons. Mac doesn’t think before sliding an arm beneath Riley’s shoulders and pulling her closer so that her head rests on his shoulder. His arm brushes her cheek as he points again. 

It’s odd being this close to Riley without catching lingering traces of her perfume—a warm, dark scent he can’t pinpoint but likes anyway. She hasn’t worn it since quarantine started, and Mac is starting to miss it. 

“I see it,” she breathes. Mac lets his arm drape across Riley’s body. 

She tenses, but she doesn’t try to extricate herself from his side. Part of Mac knows he probably shouldn’t be holding her like this. A bigger part doesn’t care. Riley is his best friend goddammit, and he can cuddle her if he wants to. It doesn’t have to mean anything. 

“Show me something else,” Riley says softly. 

Mac takes a slightly unsteady breath before pointing in a different direction.  “Over there are Sagittarius, which looks like a teapot, and Scorpius, which looks like a hook or the letter ‘J.’ Between them is the supermassive black hole that exists in the middle of the galaxy. All of the matter in the Milky Way orbits around it.” 

Black holes are easy. Black holes make sense. But Riley...Riley doesn’t. 

Especially when the moment passes, and she turns her head away to holler at Bozer. “You good, man?” 

Bozer yells back from the other side of the truck. “Yeah! Got a little performance anxiety from this creepy bug staring at me.” 

Mac imagines Bozer having a staring contest with some random desert bug sitting on the hood of the truck and bursts out laughing. His arm inadvertently tightens around Riley, and the wicked gleam in her eye when she looks up at him makes the moment even funnier. 

He feels it again, that gravitational pull toward her. He’s tempted to let it drag him closer, but he’s afraid of what it might mean if he does. 

Riley squirms when Bozer climbs back into the truck, and Mac hesitates before letting her go. 

The three of them lay together for hours, just looking up at the stars, until Bozer initiates a chain reaction of yawns. “Mac,” Bozer says. “Did you set the alarm?”

Patting the pillow above Riley’s head, he answers, “Yeah. My phone is right here.”

Riley twists to look at him in horror. “Alarm?” 

Mac explains, “The meteor shower’s peak is between three and four am. So unless you’d rather stay up all night...” Riley groans, pulling up a blanket and rolling onto her side. Chuckling at her dramatics, Mac grabs a blanket for himself and watches the stars until he falls asleep. 

~ 

The volume of his alarm is set far too loud for the phone only being inches from his ear, and Mac winces as he’s forced into consciousness. Beside him, Riley growls, “Turn it off.” 

He’s lying on his side with an arm around Riley’s waist, holding her in the curve of his body, but it doesn’t feel weird or awkward. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the way Riley fit against him. Mac accidentally bumps her face as he silences the alarm, and he mumbles, “Sorry.” There’s no room to move away from her, so Mac just brushes Riley’s hair out of his face and puts his arm back around her. “I hit snooze. You have five minutes.” 

She sighs, absentmindedly brushing her thumb over his hand, and warmth spreads through Mac’s body that has nothing to do with the fact that it’s still nearly eighty degrees outside, even in the middle of the night. He lets himself snuggle closer. If he could live in the calm safety of this moment forever, Mac would. 

But he doesn’t hold Riley for long before feeling like he’s about to explode. Mac rubs her shoulder. “Riles, move. I have to pee.”

Riley groans again, but then her hips press into his as she pushes Bozer away, and Mac scrambles to get up before anything awkward happens. 

“I’m awake,” Bozer slurs.

“Sure you are.”

He’s back by the time the alarm goes off again, and Mac can hear the soft popping of Riley’s joints as she sits up and stretches. The meteors are more frequent now, nearly two a minute. Most are quick, bright flashes, but a few are slower, gracefully crossing the sky before burning up.

“Riley stop blocking the view,” Bozer says, kicking her in the back. Riley flops back down. 

A massive, glowing meteor arcs across the sky in slow motion, lingering for a few seconds before winking out of existence. “Wow,” Riley whispers, smiling. 

Wow is an understatement. Mac would’ve driven all the way out here for that meteor alone. 

Mac keeps his eyes trained on the heavens until the sky lightens and the first rays of sunlight stretch across the desert. The air seems to hum, the way it always does in announcement of the scorching summer sun. 

When they pile into the truck, Mac blasts the air conditioner. He’s already sweating, even though it’s barely six am. As he drives out of the campground and toward the highway, Bozer rattles off suggestions for where to stop for breakfast burritos on the way home. 

Apparently content to let Bozer decide, Riley demands, “Wake me up when you have my burrito. Goodnight.” Mac glances at her in the rearview mirror and smiles; she’s sprawled across the pillows and blankets, already fast asleep. 

[itmeansofthesea]

Moving Day

Well this one got me all in my feelings. This was supposed to be lighter and funnier and somehow it got away from me. Instead it's this beautiful thing?? Maybe I'll try to write a funnier version later, but thanks to @dobega for reminding me of the domesticity conversation that led to the end. Any longer and I would have to make this a series, but if that's something you're interested in I think I could swing it. Enjoy, y'all.

Warnings: like one curse word? I think that's it... It's also overwhelmingly sweet imo so just be ready for that.

Had Charles Vane known that becoming ally/friends with James Flint would involve helping him, his boyfriend, and his boyfriend’s wife (his girlfriend?) move into their new house, he might have just gone ahead, taken the warship and let Peter Ashe hang Flint and be done with. Not really, but… maybe?

He honestly isn’t even really sure how he got roped into this. It was a couple of weeks ago when he, Jack, Anne, Max, Flint, Thomas, and Miranda were all sitting at a table upstairs in the brothel having dinner. Billy was out showing Abigail around Nassau and Mr.s Gates and De Groot were just trying to get a moment’s peace at some smaller tavern at the other end of town. Silver and Madi were out having some sort of alone dinner thing (Jack had called it a “date” and then called Charles a “heathen with no sense of romance”), and this all left the motley crew to sit around with whatever the brothel’s cook had dreamed up and a metric ton of ale to wash it down.

Charles didn’t fully understand the situation Flint had with the Hamiltons, but whatever it was clearly made Flint happier than Charles had ever seen him. He was all smiles and laughter and joy. It warmed Charles’s heart (just a bit) to see his friend so happy, because they certainly had become friends. He mentally joked about leaving Flint to hang, but to be honest it would be difficult to imagine his life without the people sitting around the table with him now. At least, it would be difficult to imagine something resembling a happy life.

They’d stopped to refuel in Savannah after Charlestown and somehow or another word got to Flint about a plantation full of the disgraced sons of London’s elite that were now more or less enslaved in the prison colony. If there was one thing Charles was always down to do (and there were many things he was always down to do), it was hunt down a slave master and free people from bondage. They’d split when they got to the plantation- Charles after the master of the house and James off to find Thomas. Finding Mr. Smith hadn’t been difficult and dispatching him was even easier. Once that was finished, Charles made his way outside to find Flint in the arms of another, taller man and both of them appeared to be weeping. He felt like an intruder watching them, so he busied himself with checking the plantation for anyone else who may need to be released. When they made it back to the ship, Miranda leapt on the man who Charles realized must be Thomas, and after a minute of holding on to him she grabbed Flint into their embrace.

In time all of the introductions were made, and suddenly the Charles/Anne/Jack crew expanded to the Charles/Anne/Max/Jack crew and the Charles/James friendship expanded to include Charles/James/Thomas/Miranda. They also intercepted Abigail Ashe on the way, and James and the Hamiltons promptly adopted her on the spot. She and Charles had some reacquainting to do outside of Eleanor Guthrie’s influence, but he at least thought they were making progress. She didn’t seem nearly as terrified as she’d been of him when she followed Eleanor through the gate, so that was something.

Fast forward a few weeks and here they all were finishing their chicken and ale when Jack began asking about where the Flint/Hamilton/Ashe family intended to live. Miranda’s house was too small now that they had Abigail, and Billy had attached himself to Abigail as an older brother figure so usually where one of them was, the both of them were. Of course with Billy came Mr. Gates as his surrogate father, and while they’d made it work for the last couple of months, everyone was feeling a bit cramped.

Jack and Max volunteered to host them at the brothel, but they politely declined. Charles half considered offering to let them stay at the fort, but figured that may not be the best idea considering they also had Abigail to consider. Not that he couldn’t keep his men under control, but he also knew that she had memories of that fort that she may not want to be surrounded by all the time. He certainly knew that was the case for him, and yet he stayed… for some reason. Maybe he should take Jack up on the offer to move into the brothel…

Thomas mentioned that they’d been asking around and found a house a bit more inland from Miranda’s that had been abandoned for the last several years. It would take a bit of fixing up, but they planned to go ahead and move in and then work on it as they lived there. Before Charles fully knew what was happening, Jack had volunteered Charles, Anne, himself, and Max to all help them move with the added bonus that he and Max would help with the decorating if Miranda so desired their assistance. Max enthusiastically agreed and elbowed Anne in the side prompting her to shrug a shoulder in agreement. Jack looked at Charles with those wide puppy-dog eyes and before Charles even knew what he was saying he’d agreed to help. The look on the Flint/Hamilton’s faces almost made it worth it.

At the time.

That was then.

Now it’s moving day. What on earth had they gotten themselves into?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Charles and company arrived at Miranda’s house early the next day, one cart was packed and Thomas, Billy, and James were in the process of loading another one. It was decided that they would stay behind and the Ranger crew plus Max would go with Miranda and Abigail and get things unloaded. Mr. Gates was out helping Mr. De Groot careen the ship again since the last time was a bit of a disaster.

The moving crew pulled up to a slightly rundown looking two story house with columns on the porch and an overgrown garden to the side. Miranda smiled and squeezed Abigail around the shoulders before jumping off the cart to start unloading. Abigail took the key to the front door and unlocked it, but had a little trouble pushing it open since the summer heat made the wood swell in the jamb. Jack went to help her push it open while Charles and the others started getting things off the cart.

“Just put everything in the front for now, we’ll get it sorted later,” Miranda instructed as she pulled a crate of books from the back. She passed it to Charles who noticed the copy of Reflections by Marcus Aurelius on the top. He recognized it from a conversation he’d had with Flint on the way to the plantation. That was his and Thomas’s book, the one object that kept them tethered together to all this time. Flint’s book with Miranda was Don Quixote, which he also noticed on top of the stack. It’s not that Charles couldn’t read (Teach made sure he could), it had just never been particularly useful to him. You don’t have to know how to read to split logs, haul rope, navigate the stars, or fight the English Navy. Besides, he’d never really had the time to sit down and rest long enough to read. Maybe he should change that. He set the books down to the left of the open door and went back out for more stuff.

Max and Anne pulled down a trunk of clothes and carried it into the house together. Charles volunteered to switch with them, but he was told in no uncertain terms that they could handle it themselves thank you very much, so he left them to it. He passed Miranda and Abigail carrying small crates of what appeared to be dishes. Porcelain. Hadn’t he and Flint had that conversation just a few days ago? About how fragile porcelain and books were, and how fragile a civilized life was, and how it all came down to capitulation and letting society numb you into obedience? Now he was willingly helping Flint settle into that obedience. Is that something a real friend should do? Charles wasn’t sure, so he jumped into the back of the cart, pushed a trunk to the edge, and hauled it out of the back of the cart to take inside.

Miranda stood in the foyer with her hands on her hips trying to put together what each room should be when the furniture arrived. Charles motioned to the trunks on the floor and at Jack who was just standing there in slack jawed awe.

“Would you like us to move these upstairs?”

Miranda turned and smiled up at him. “Sure, thank you, Charles.”

“Jack, let’s go.” Charles barked and jerked his head toward the trunks.

“You can’t honestly expect me to be able to help you carry that upstairs.” Jack raised an eyebrow and looked at Charles like he’d lost his mind. Charles scowled and opened his mouth to reply when suddenly-

“Good thing we got here in time then,” Flint’s voice sounded amused coming from behind him, and he turned just in time to see Billy and Thomas carrying in a table. Miranda’s smile widened as she directed them to the right and Flint walked over to Charles to help with the trunk.

“My hero,” Jack cooed jokingly at Flint before catching Charles’s eye and backing away. “Yes, yes, I know. Fuck you, Jack. I’ll let you save your breath.” Jack raised his hands and walked away to follow Miranda and see if he could start setting the table or something.

Charles just rolled his eyes and grabbed his end of the trunk.

“On 3?” James asked. Charles nodded. “1, 2, 3,” James counted off and they both lifted at the same time. It was heavy, even for the two of them.

“The fuck’s in this thing?” Charles grunted as he started backwards up the stairs.

“I think these are Abigail’s… From what I understand, women’s clothes are far more complex than ours,” James laughed.

“Not here, they aren’t…” Charles thought back to Eleanor’s outfits, but also realized that Abigail and Miranda were nothing like Eleanor, therefore they would likely be dressed more like Max, in which case it made sense. Thank God they weren’t like Eleanor. Nassau couldn’t handle another one.

“So, if you can’t understand why a man would want domesticity, why are you helping four of them move into a house?” James looked amused, and Charles honestly wasn’t even sure he had an answer.

“I still don’t understand it. To the left,” Charles moved to get his back to the doorway and James moved with him. “However,” they set the trunk down inside the room and straightened. “I think I am starting to understand wanting peace.” He sighed. “And I don’t know, maybe I do understand it. I tried to tell Eleanor that we could take part of the gold and settle down, have a life, a couple of kids… but she would never have that. I told myself that wasn’t me wanting domesticity, that was wanting someone else to depend on me, but…” he took a deep breath and walked out onto the landing where he could see Jack and Anne below him. James wordlessly followed. “Maybe I’ve had other people depending on me for a long time. Actually, I know I have. It’s why Jack wouldn’t come with me when I left with Teach- he didn’t want to have to depend on me when he’d built something of his own here. I didn’t expect that to hurt as much as it did.”

“But it did,” James whispered beside him.

“It did. I guess because I was hoping that our friendship would be enough for him to come with me, but in the end his need for independence won out. I can’t blame him, especially after all the shit I put him through with Eleanor-”

“Excuse you, you both put us all through that,” James smirked and bumped Charles’s shoulder. He earned a grunt in response. James just chuckled and noted the small grin gracing Charles’s face out of the corner of his eye. James knew at one point that comment would likely have resulted at him having a knife in his face. He was thankful they’d progressed past that.

“Anyway,” Charles emphasized the word, “seeing you with Miranda and Thomas, and even adopting Abigail. It seems peaceful. Maybe that’s part of domesticity, maybe it isn’t, but either way, it looks nice. It’s not something I can have in that fort probably, but…” he trailed off.

James waited a beat before asking, “what?”

“I am happy that it’s working out this way for you,” Charles whispered. “If anyone deserves all of this, you do. You all do,” he ignored the water welling up in his eyes as he put a hand over Flint’s over the railing.

Flint didn’t even bother ignoring his tears. He just let them go as he watched his family make their home together for the first time in a way that included all of them from the very beginning. He whispered, “thank you. So do you, you know?”

Charles chuckled humorlessly and swiped a hand across his face.

“I’m serious,” James looked at Charles who turned his head in response. “They are my family, but you are now, too. You don’t show up to save my life from the man who ruined my life, help me blow a port city to hell, kill its governor, and then stop me from murdering Jack Rackham for taking the Urca gold I’d been after for years without earning the title of brother. Even if you did steal my ship first.” James smirked and bumped Charles’s shoulder again.

“Yeah… I’m not sorry about that.” Charles shook his head and laughed.

“Wouldn’t expect you to be,” James chuckled, “brother.”

Charles looked at his family and back at James. “Brother.”

[halothenthehorns]

Catch a Falling Star

by  bookhater95

5 Times Remus was afraid to fly and one time he wasn't. Wolfstar galore

Sirius had already decided that Lupin kid was the odd one before they'd all lined up next to their brooms, him last with tentative steps at the bit of wood. All he did was sleep up in their dorms whenever he wasn't poring over homework, you'd think the lad would enjoy a bit of fun they were being forcibly taught.

James leaned over to whisper in his ear, "I can't decide which is funnier to watch, that guy, or Snivilius?"

Said pompous Slytherin was standing next to his own broom and glowering down at it as if ready to throw a hex at that instead of them for once. How was it possible they seemed the only two ready to have some fun?

A whistle was blown and Sirius' jumped right into his hand of course, he even swung his leg over already before even being prompted and sat proud and ready to do more than just hover, when he again glanced over and saw Remus Lupin looked quite green around the edges, putting some color in his usually gray face.

Pity warred with hilarity, all the idiot had to do was get off the ground, but then, he'd also offered his notes already before they'd even had to ask as a sign of good will if the two promised to keep it down at night, which they'd graciously been doing by being ten times louder in the common room.

At least when they came up and he was snoring away it didn't bother them, Snape on the other hand had been nothing but a useless waste since the train and deserved to have that smarmy look brushed from his face. The fallback would just be happenstance.

A quick curse at just the right spot, and the broom went bucking wildly away with its rider shouting profanities even Sirius didn't yet know. A girl burst out laughing in delight, while Remus watched the progression in horror as if his worst nightmare were being played out. Sirius winced as he realized he hadn't thought that all the way through, but then the other boys eyes caught his, and he smiled. He'd seen him do it, and he mouthed 'thank you' as Snape hit the mud, disbanding their flying practice for now.

2

The pitch had long since emptied out, James in the lead as he ran across the entirety of their school with excitement for making the team, but Sirius hung back as he sat in the warm sun and trimmed the tails of his precious broom for practice that evening.

Remus came down from the stands and sat beside him until he was finished with that quiet air of his, he hadn't even brought a book this time, just watching him handle his broom with fond exasperation. "I'll never understand you lots appeal to this madness," he told yet again as if he hadn't been doing so for over a year now.

"And I'll never understand how anyone can hate being in the air," Sirius said back at once. "Won't you give it a go, just once?" Remus blanched in disgust and finally took a leery step away from him, eyeing the cloudless sky above as if a hand would reach down and squash them all. "Don't you trust me?" He wheedled. "I've never fallen off a broom and I'm not going to just let you!"

"I'd really rather not," he pleaded. "Honestly Sirius, isn't the promise of sitting in the stands and watching enough for you?"

"For now," he pouted as he slung it over his shoulders and clapped him on the back. "I'll get you one day though, you mark my words."

"Haven't you learned by now not to bet against me," Remus said back with a challenging smile he only ever showed around them.

"You cheated, not getting caught last time!" Sirius was instantly distracted and pulled into the argument as he allowed himself to be steered to lunch.

3

The moon was three quarters full above them. The stands were empty and every snatch of wind had them standing closer together than normal as they shivered and sized each other up.

"Sirius, this really isn't necessary," Remus whispered. "I said I forgive you, and I do, please stop trying to make it up to me, especially like this."

"Please?" He was, actually begging. He looked as distraught as when he'd confessed what he'd almost done to Snape.

"Why is this so important to you?" Remus wasn't even sure he heard he spoke so quietly.

"Because I," Sirius was still clutching the broom and looking at him with hungry eyes. "I want to, prove that I'm worth, more than just a killer. Moony, I want to give you good memories too."

Remus stepped close and cupped his cheek. Sirius leaned into the touch without breaking eye contact, watching his every inflection carefully. "You've given me more than I'll ever dream of Padfoot," he promised, putting special emphasis on the dog nickname. "I look forward to the future because of you."

Sirius melted in his palm, turning his face just enough to kiss his wrist before covering his hand with his own and smiling. Just a sweet, simple gesture that meant the world to him, that Sirius even seemed to enjoy his touch was a miracle he'd never believe anyone would because of his affliction and Sirius proved wrong every day. "Okay," he whispered, dropping the broom and pulling him in closer.

4

"What are you up to?" Remus asked, trying to keep the worst of the poutiness out of his voice for going out into the cold November air given the occasion.

"Nope," Sirius refused to answer, again. "It's my birthday, it's my surprise!"

"Pretty sure that's the opposite of how this is suppose to work," he corrected in exhaustion, but was ignored as Sirius got him all the way out to the broom shed and pushed him inside before closing it and leaning in to grin up at him.

Remus started to frown already, his gut clenching unpleasantly at how this was starting even as Sirius tried to coax otherwise by trailing his hand up and down his zipped pants suggestively. "So, shall we do what does work then? Our last year here, I'd love to get the full experiences of life."

"Like getting ourselves expelled early," he tried to curb, plenty distracted by Sirius' nimble fingers but eyes still darting around to all the broom tails suspiciously, the strong smell of wood polish was making him nauseous. "Please be gentle with whatever's about to happen." Sirius laughed lightly, but there was a hesitation now as he prodded at the button but didn't move farther like he was second guessing himself now. "Sirius?" He asked uneasily.

He let his hand drop and pouted up at him. "Never mind, I guess. I thought, I don't know, but never mind."

"Well at least tell me what you were thinking?" He offered in consolation even as he relaxed in relief.

"It's stupid, you'll laugh," he muttered, moving to hold his neck now and pull him in for a proper kiss. "Just, bloody shag me, yeah?"

Guilt tampered out the need though as he gently kissed him back before leaning out and frowning. "You're making me feel like an arse, just tell me, I promise I won't laugh."

"I, um," his eyes darted to his and away to his own broom before going back and repeating the pattern several times before reluctantly blurting, "I was hoping you would, let me give you a ride. Just a small one, I swear, we'd barely hover off the ground, but you clearly still don't want to, so let's just let it go."

Remus bit his lip rather than go back to kissing him as he stroked his hair absently for a few moments and watched hope war with his insistent expression to let it drop back off. "This really means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

"No," he impulsively lied. Something of that eleven-year old who still wanted to laugh at anyone being afraid of heights though would always be in his boyfriend, and Remus knew that. "I've never pushed you, have I? Just, thought you'd want to give it a try now, it's been so long, and a lots happened since then. The wizarding world is literally at war Remus, we don't even know how many more birthdays we're going to get, so I just sort of thought this little thing of yours had fallen off. I was wrong, I won't bring it up again, promise."

Remus kissed him then, because he was incapable of doing anything else in that moment or he'd explode. Sirius snogged him back eagerly, and as always let himself be guided anyway Moony wanted as he started pushing and nudging him to whatever position he desired. Sirius obviously wasn't expecting to be let go though when they were in the center of the little space and blinked his eyes open in concern to see Remus reaching out and holding his broom.

It was a gift from the Potter's he'd screamed like a delirious child over, it was the same one he rode on every Quidditch game, so it's not as if Remus grabbed at random. His heart stuttered with hope, but then he just watched in confusion as Remus let it go at chest height. It hovered in place, and then Moony moved fast, he squealed in surprise a noise threat of death couldn't make him admit had issued from his throat as his waist was seized.

"Ask me again after the war," he whispered as he sat him down on it sidesaddle, stepping in-between his legs. "Doesn't mean we can't have some fun in the meantime?"

Sirius laughed in delight and vowed, "I'm going to remember that."

5

"Her name is Elvendork," Sirius told him with pride as he ran a rag over her chassis one last time.

"Of course it is," Remus nodded without surprise. "Do you plan on many broken bones at once, or just one at a time?"

"Moony, how dare you," Sirius scowled. "I've never fallen out of the air in my life, I most certainly won't start now!"

It was no use telling him otherwise, Sirius was a natural skyborne and he knew it. "Just please be careful," he asked instead. "You and Prongs, watch your back, you promise?"

"Her christening night out Remus!" Sirius reminded with the same delirious happiness he'd had the entire time he'd put her together. "Voldemort himself couldn't knock us out of the air!" He stopped and watched him roll his eyes and bit down hard on his lip to stop himself asking just like he had every other time the idea popped into his head. Remus would say no, he hadn't even gotten within arms length of his beautiful motorcycle. "Kiss for luck never hurts though," he added as he sat astride her.

Remus stepped forward willingly and moved their lips together with eagerness. Blood rushed so fast through Sirius he didn't even stop to consider himself as he abruptly stood up and grabbed him, trying to pull him forward and down with him, and to his utter amazement Remus complied, settling himself down and opening his mouth in an invitation Sirius greedily accepted. Moony even began knotting up his long hair in his fingers and grating against him, it was intoxicating and he longed to let his fingers itch off his waist and just casually flick the engine on, maybe even just being astride it with the power activated would be okay, and if they happened to start getting a bit off the air while he kept Remus distracted than surely-

"Oi! Padfoot! Are you coming or what?"

Sirius startled and fell off the bike as James' voice echoed from his pocket mirror. Remus watched him with amusement as he got up and offered him a hand.

"I hate all of you," he groused as he dug it out.

"Love you too," Moony gave him one last promising peck before stepping back away.

And 1

The Shrieking Shack had been their reunion, but Sirius Black abruptly showing up on his doorstep with a stolen hippogriff while being on the run from the world was their official homecoming.

"Ah Padfoot," he chuckled for old times when Sirius' latest crazy stunt wouldn't surprise him. Actually, that was a lie, Sirius continued to surprise him his whole life with every turn they took. "You know I can't go on the run with you."

"I know," Sirius nodded, he hadn't even dismounted but just smiled down at him as he reached out and gently traced one of the scars he hadn't been there for. "Just couldn't leave without saying goodbye first."

The awkward silence hung as they watched each other. To many words from their past hovered between them, it may even take another long thirteen years to unravel it all and really be able to talk again. Maybe distance would help. Neither still moved away.

"You all unpacked yet?" Sirius stalled even as he drew his hand away. "Settling back in to, whatever the hell you 've been up to."

"We can talk about that later," he promised. "You'll owl me, won't you? The birds won't trace back to you, I swear."

"I'll get word to you Moony," Sirius promised solemnly. He turned away then, looking at the horizon with long dormant eyes that were finally waking up again.

He couldn't bare to watch him leave again without a proper smile. "What's the matter with you, not even going to offer me a ride first?"

"What?" Sirius just looked at him in pure confusion, blinking dazedly like he'd forgotten he was here.

"You forgot, didn't you?" Remus whispered. There was no need to watch him for any hint of a joke. The haggard lines of his face, the mess of his hair and prison robes, it was like looking at a warped mirror of the teenager he'd once loved with all his heart and given out on.

"Forgot what?" Sirius asked in concern. Shit, it wasn't Remus' birthday. Azkaban had taken away memories, but not facts, he still knew dates.

Remus seized his shoulder and climbed without a second of hesitation, hooking his boot into the notch in Buckbeak's wing-joint like a pro as he swung himself up behind him. Wrapping his arms tight around Sirius' waist after thirteen long years felt as natural as breathing, but Sirius remained frozen beneath him in surprise unlike usual. "Padfoot?" He whispered in concern.

"Are you, really offering, I mean, I'd swear I remembered, but maybe I was wrong," he began babbling and wasn't even twitching, unnaturally still.

"I did use to be afraid of heights," he promised, squeezing his hands and resting his forehead against the back of his shoulder. "Please don't do that to yourself. I once told you though I'd give this bloody flying thing a try after the war, and well," he swallowed as he heard how hollow this would probably sound to someone who had never really left the war, time had abandoned Sirius in there. "I won't waste anymore time being afraid of something as silly as a little height. Not when I have you again."

To his horror, Sirius' chest stuttered beneath him, he gasped in a breath and Remus leaned forward to see his old love was actually crying.

"Sirius?" He asked again in concern, moving to get off now and get him to come with him inside. Instead his hands left the birds neck and clamped down on his knees still resting on the wings to hold him in place, breathing raggedly but refusing to move, so Remus waited. He rested his chin on the shirt and leaned over to kiss his wet cheek and neck gently, closing his eyes and just letting him be.

"We can't go back," Sirius finally spoke, and Remus fought back his own sob at hearing true emotion in his voice again, the likes of which he'd thought stripped away from him forever. Love, Sirius still loved him, his past he was still piecing together. "I keep hoping I'll find something out here that hasn't changed, now even shit I didn't know about is different. You'd never get on a broom with me before, would you?"

"No," he admitted, "but I never said I had a problem with winged creatures. You just never asked."

Sirius threw his head back and laughed. That sharp barking noise he'd gone far too long without hearing. "A hippogriff. You're really telling me I never thought of that?"

"I'd never lie about something like this," he grinned, nuzzling as tight into his back as he could. "Now please, the poor creature's getting restless." Buckbeak had been remarkably still and calm beneath them the whole time in fact, but Sirius didn't call him out on it. "Can't I have that ride?"

"Anything for you Moony," Sirius' voice was brimming with excitement, his brittle fingers squeezed Remus' legs before nudging him around a bit, making sure his feet were securely behind the coming wingspan. Remus just held on tighter to his chest and leaned into his every motion with anticipation as Sirius rode with his legs and their hippogriff began a soft walk at once. "Hold on now," Sirius dug his fingers back into the deep gray feathers, sitting properly with his back straight but nearly vibrating with anticipation.

"I'm not letting go," he promised.

Sirius did something with his legs again, and their ride moved to a fast gallop in one stride, Remus worried for a moment his hold went painful on Padfoot but he merely whooped with delight and shouted, "get ready!"

There was no warning that he could tell, the wings burst forth and unfurled with a beautiful glory of streaming feathers already flapping and beating the air around them as they launched into the dark night, the two laughing the entire time.

[louiseleblancdiggory]

"i'm gonna kiss you right now" for rowaelin

Ok so I used this prompt to make a part 2 for Drunk Mistakes (I really want to kiss you right now prompt)!! I hope you guys like this because I had fun writing it. It is heavily inspired on a conversation I’ve had with my best friends

Drunk Mistakes (part 1)

Tipsy kisses

--

Rowan’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was trying to read into her words.

Aelin’s heart was beating so fast that maybe Rowan was narrowing his eyes because even he could hear it. Underneath the covers, Aelin twisted her hands, both of them starting to sweat.

“Nothing at all?”

She shook her head, getting up from the bed. If he kept staring at her like that, she’d probably break and commit the same mistake from the night before. All Aelin wanted was for Rowan to drop the subject and believe that she was just a blabbering drunk. She just wanted him to forget last night.

“Did I do something? You know how I get when I get drunk like that.” She said, forcing worry and curiosity in her voice but not turning her face to him. She entered her bathroom and Rowan, thank the gods, didn’t follow.

She looked at herself in the mirror and almost gasped. A corpse looked better than her at that moment. Smeared makeup, the hair a mess and huge bags under her eyes, the pounding headache wasn’t the only thing a hungover brought to her. “Fuck, I look hideous.”

She was trying to change the subject, trying to make things seem natural again. Judging by Rowan’s silence, it wasn’t working.

“Ro.” She called again, finally looking back at him through her reflection in the mirror. “Did I do something?”

Rowan stared at her for a few seconds before shaking his head. “No. No, you didn’t.”

Aelin nodded back, a forced smile on her lips. She couldn’t tell if she was happy or disappointed with his answer.

—————

Six weeks. It had been six fucking weeks from her little drunken incident and Rowan was still acting strange around her.

Whenever she thought of it, Aelin wanted to cry. This is why she didn’t want to tell him about her feelings. This is why she didn’t want to make a move on him. If he was all tense and strange after hearing her say she wanted to kiss him while drunk, Aelin couldn’t phantom what he would do if she had said the words sober.

Maybe a restriction order. Or just finding excuses to not even look at her when they went out, even if he was already doing that.

“I hate this.” Aelin murmured, taking a deep chug of her beer. She was a little tipsy and the beer sent a rush to her head. “And I hate beer.”

“No, you don’t. You love beer, you’re just bitter lately.” Fenrys answered, putting an arm over her shoulders and pulling her close. Aelin laid her head on his chest, groaning quietly. “Just talk to him.”

“Last time I talked to him in a bar, I fucked it up and that’s why things are the way they are.” Aelin grumbled and Fenrys only chuckled, rubbing her arm with his hand. “Gosh, I’m an idiot. Four years. I managed to keep my mouth shut for four years and then I get drunk one night and fuck it up.”

Fenrys wasn’t surprised at the words. He had been her friend for much longer than she had known Rowan. Actually, both of them met four years ago because of Fenrys. Both he and Rowan were planning on going to pre-med, and were to be roommates during freshman year of college. Fenrys threw a party during the summer and that’s when Aelin met Rowan.

Since the beginning Fenrys had been the first person to know about Aelin’s feelings towards Rowan. The other four people were Manon, Lys, Elide and Dorian. Manon and Dorian were currently traveling the world in their gap year, only sometimes stopping by Orynth. Elide and Lysandra knew everything, but Fenrys had always understood better. She didn’t even had to tell him four years ago, the asshole just guessed.

After that Aelin was more careful in expressing herself with Rowan when there were other people around.

“Everyone makes drunk mistakes, baby.” He said, voice always carefree.

“You were supposed to stop me from making this certain mistake!” She smacked him across the chest. That had been their pact; Fenrys wouldn’t let Aelin confess her feelings when she was under distress, sad, overjoyed or, as he had failed, drunk.

“I tried! I fucking came by and swept you away, it’s not my fault you have this big ass mouth.” He hissed when she hit him again. “You were dancing with Vaughan and then I blink and, oh gods, where is Aelin?”

Aelin huffed a laugh at the sarcasm in his voice. “Three seconds earlier and I wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

Fenrys laughed, ending his beer. He put the bottle on the table with a loud thud and everyone around them, including Rowan, turned to them. That was the first time during the night that he had looked at her and not averted his gaze quickly. His eyes narrowed a tiny bit while he watched Aelin and Fenrys. When Fenrys put his hands on her shoulders and drew her away from his chest, Rowan shook his head quickly and turned back to talk to Lyria.

“You want my advice?” Fenrys said, looking her dead in the eye. Aelin laughed at his sudden seriousness.

“Yes, give me all your extensive knowledge.”

“Smartass.” He replied, not letting go of her shoulders. “I fuck up a lot—”

“I have noticed, yes.” Aelin nodded solemnly.

“I will gag you if you don’t shut up.” When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “As I fuck up a lot, I know when a situation needs disfucking—“

“Did you just say disfucking?” She was either a little bit more than tipsy or Fenrys was just being his usual self.

“For the love of the gods, will you let me finish? Yes, disfucking. When you un-fuck what you fucked up.”

Yeah, just Fenrys being his usual self.

“Fuck down then?”

“Disfucking.”

Aelin was bitting her cheeks to keep herself from smiling. This was the stupidest conversation she had ever had and the alcohol made it ten times funnier.

“Proceed. How do I disfuck Rowan?”

“How do you what?” Vaughan who was passing nearby stopped, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

“Oh, gods.” Fenrys rubbed his temples, sighing and looking at Vaughan. “Disfuck. Now get out.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Vaughan said, turning to Aelin.

She shrugged. “Un-fuck what you fucked up.”

“Fuck down?”

“No!” Fenrys shouted and everyone looked at him again. “Disfuck and fuck down are different.”

“What the hell?” Lorcan sitting by Rowan’s side murmured.

“Mind your own business, M-rated Grinch.” Fenrys snapped at Lorcan and this time Aelin could help but laugh. She was almost doubling over when Fenrys turned to Vaughan. “You get the fuck out.” He turned to her. “And you, baby, shut the hell up and hear my teachings.”

She nodded, breathing hard. She looked at Rowan again to see him with furrowed brows. He turned away again. She sighed.

“You won’t disfuck this situation.” Fenrys explained. “It won’t help, it’s already too throughly fucked.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“What you will do, is kiss Rowan.” Fenrys finished, flashing her a smile.

“Someone needs to disfuck your brain. How is that supposed to help?”

“It won’t. He thinks you don’t remember but he does remember. He won’t forget. If the relationship is destroyed, at least get the kiss you’ve wanted for four years.”

“He’s right.” Vaughan added quietly.

“Bloody gods, you’re still here.” Fenrys turned to his brother-in-law. “Didn’t I tell you to piss off?”

“I was curious.” He shrugged, approaching Fenrys and Aelin. “But he’s right. Everything already went to shit, so why not?”

Aelin’s heart constricted at the words. “The two of you are so, so helpful. I feel much more comforted now that you guys said my relationship with my best friend is ruined.”

“They have no social skills, that’s why. It’s a wonder they can ever have a conversation with other people.” Lyria said, coming on their direction. “But they’re right, you should kiss Rowan.”

“You can’t have one private conversation these days.” Fenrys grumbled and Lyria hit him in the back of the head.

Aelin ignored him and turned to one of her closest friends. “You think?”

“I mean, yeah. I’ve known you for four years and Rowan for longer than that. I have been wondering why the two of you haven’t done it yet.” Lyria said, her voice calm and steady. She smiled knowingly at Aelin.

“Isn’t he your ex? You’re trying to pair up your best friend and your ex?” Fenrys butted in.

“You can’t have one private conversation these days.” Lyria mimicked Fenrys and the two immediately started bickering as usual.

Aelin stared at them for a few seconds before turning to Vaughan. “Can you take Lorcan away from Rowan?”

“Anything for you, princess.” Vaughan smiled at her, turning around and starting to walk to the bar. “Salvaterre, drinking competition. You say no, you’re a spineless coward and I’m showing Elide your baby pictures.”

Aelin watched as Lorcan immediately got up, following Vaughan as he threatened her friend.

Without giving herself time to consider what she was about to do, Aelin drowned the rest of her beer and got up. Her head was buzzing and she didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the adrenaline. She dodged Lyria who was still standing near Fenrys, arguing with him. With a purposeful stride, Aelin walked up to where Rowan was sitting. He saw her seconds before she stopped in front of him, brows high.

“You ok?” He said when she stood before him.

“Are you drunk?”

“No.” He answered, and Aelin could hear the confusion on his voice.

“Neither am I. A little tipsy, but that’s besides the point. And I lied six weeks ago.” She said, voice coming out rushed. Her heart was thundering and her mind was racing. She was feeling an adrenaline rush and would probably want to murder Fenrys, Vaughan and Lyria when it ended. “I was drunk, but I remembered the whole night.”

Rowan’s eyes widened at that, and some sadness took over his expression. “You lied?”

“Yeah, sorry. I thought that you were giving me an out the following morning. Because, you know… I said I wanted to kiss you and you didn’t want that.”

“I—“ Rowan started, dumbfounded.

“But it doesn’t matter, because I can’t disfuck it so I am going to kiss you.”

“You will?” Aelin sworn she could see Rowan fighting a smile.

“Yeah.” She nodded at herself. “I’m gonna kiss you right now.”

Aelin grabbed Rowan’s face in her hands, stepping in between his legs. The second before Aelin’s lips met his, she could see him finally smiling.

Rowan’s hands went immediately to her waist when her lips touched his. Rowan’s mouth was warm and soft against hers, and Aelin sighed contently. He drew her closer, and Aelin felt her body flushed against his. Aelin skimmed her hands from his face to the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair. When Rowan’s tongue swept over her bottom lip, Aelin opened her mouth and would have probably moaned if they weren’t in public.

They kissed until Aelin lost track of time, mouths and tongues moving against each other, his fingers hugging her waist and hers playing with his hair.

When they finally drew apart, both were breathing hard, a small smile on Rowan’s lips and a very satisfied one on Aelin’s.

“So this is disfucking.” She said after breathing in, voice raspy.

“What the hell is disfucking?” Rowan’s brows furrowed, but he was still smiling.

Aelin merely stepped forward again, catching his lips with hers.

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass 

[ayatosmlktea]

𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑫𝑾𝑰𝑫𝑬

Pairings: Bokuto x Reader

Genre: Fluff, a lil tiny bit of angst

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Just a lil something I wrote for @soltserra​ one night! This song is based on Worldwide from Big Time Rush and I highly HIGHLY recommend listening to it while you read because 1) it’s a masterpiece and 2) it makes the fic 10x better

Also I literally know nothing about sports so pls...be kind :3

The news comes as a shock to Bokuto, he knew that eventually it was going to happen but he hadn’t expected it to come so soon. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, being drafted into one of the biggest volleyball teams in the world. Of course he was excited, he had been thrilled so much so that he could barely contain his excitement and had nearly grabbed the manager in for a hug before remembering to remain professional.

 His dreams were finally coming to fruition and the first person his mind thought of after hearing the offer was you. His rock through thick and thin, his highschool sweetheart. Unable to wait any until he got home he dialed your number, bouncing with excitement as he waited for you to pick up.

Frowning when his call went to voicemail he figured you must have been busy, it didn’t matter. That meant he’d get to share the news with you in person!

Rushing home, he stopped along the way to pick up your favourite takeout to celebrate. Their lives were about to change in the best way possible and there was no one else he wanted to go on this journey with.

Practically running home, he bounded up the steps to your shared apartment two at a time eager to tell you the good news.

Upon entering the apartment he found you fast asleep on the couch, placing the food on the kitchen counter Bokuto sat down next to you, gently stroking your hair.

“Hey love, I got dinner” he says softly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. Pulling the light blanket over your  head you groaned something incoherent into the cushions.

“I got your favourite! Sushi burritos” At the mention of food you poke you head out from under the blankets, suddenly wide awake.

“Food” Bokuto laughs loudly, wrapping his arms around you to plant wet kisses on your cheeks.

“So you’ll wake up for food but not me? That hurts” he sniffles before continuing his assault of kisses all over your face.

“Move, I’m hungry” Turning your head away from his face you struggle to slip out of his arms.

“Can I at least have a kiss for being the world’s best boyfriend and bringing my beautiful girlfriend her favourite dinner?” Bokuto pouted, you had gotten used to his childish temper after being together for so long but for some reason right now it was funnier than usual.

“If you wash the dishes too you might get one later” Flashing him a cheeky smile you shoved your hands against his chest, walking into the kitchen to inspect the food. Not even waiting to sit down, you lean on the kitchen island unwrapping your food and take a hasty first bite.

“So there’s something I wanted to tell you about!” Bokuto says abruptly. Your eyes leave your burrito, with a curious look on your face.

“I got an offer to play for that American team I was telling you about”

“Oh my God! That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you Bo” You knew how big of a deal it was for him to get drafted by this team, putting down your food you shuffled over to give him a hug.

“I know right! We have a few weeks to get settled into our new place. We should probably start packing tomorrow” The longer Bokuto rambled on, the bigger the pit of dread grew in your stomach.

“We?”

“Yeah, you and me babe.” His smile is so hopeful and full of excitement that it feels wrong to have to crush his spirits.

“I-I can’t go with you, I can’t just quit my job and move across the world with you”

Bokuto’s face fell instantly, he hadn’t expected this. He’d been so caught up in telling you the news, that he hadn’t even considered the possibility that you might not be able to come with him.

“I’ll come visit you! But for now, it’s not possible. I’m sorry”

“It’s fine! Like you said, you can come visit me” He was trying to brush off his disappointment for you, but you knew that he was upset. The rest of dinner was spent in an uncomfortable silence.

‧͙⁺˚*·༓☾　　☽༓·*˚⁺‧͙

It had been almost three months since Bokuto had seen you, the two of you tried to call as often as you could but it was difficult with the time difference. While you  were on your lunch break Bokuto was already fast asleep. The only time you really got to spend with each other was on the weekends, and even then it was never enough. 

The way your eyes would become glossy with tears never went unnoticed but he didn’t want to say anything that would make you cry. It ripped his heart into shreds knowing that you were crying and he couldn’t do anything about it. He sent you pictures everyday along with cute messages reminding you that he loved you. Bokuto spent most of his nights going through old pictures and videos of the two of you  together. 

On days where they weren’t able to call at all, he’d go through his voicemail until he found an old message from you. It didn’t matter what you were saying, the sound of your voice alone was enough to help ease his homesickness.

Volleyball took up a lot of his time and most of his energy but you were always on his mind. Everything he was doing was for your future. The sooner he became successful, the sooner you’d be able to come live with him in America.

Lately,you seemed more distant. You didn’t send him as many texts like you usually did and whenever he tried to make plans to call you, there was always something keeping you busy. Doubts of you falling out of love with him were putting him on edge, the rational side of him tried to convince himself that he was being paranoid for no reason. You were an honest person, and if you were falling out of love with him he trusted you to tell him.

Regardless, the thought of not having you in his life was enough to start affecting his playing. His serves were off, his spikes were not timed properly. He’d been yelled at by their coach more times in one week than he had in his entire time spent on his highschool team. It was beginning to irritate him, as much as he wanted to get his head in the game he couldn’t stop worrying about you. Thoughts of you dating another man, kissing someone who wasn’t him, holding someone else’s hand were all starting to drive him crazy.

When practice ends, Bokuto leaves feeling frustrated, he knows  he can play better than that. He knows what he needs to do, he knows how to time his jumps so why can’t he just focus on the game. Pulling out his phone, he scrolls through his notifications hoping that you had sent him something, anything to make his disappointing day a bit better.

But there’s nothing.

He doesn’t even want to eat, his mood is so sour that all he can think of is taking a shower and crawling into bed. His emo mode reaching new levels of pettiness. The walk back to his apartment is spent hoping that you would be able to call him. A week of bare minimum communication was making him crazy. He could only imagine what it would be like if you were to actually walk out of his life. The thought alone makes his throat constrict.

“Why do you look constipated?” A distinct chuckle instantly grabs his attention. His eyes dart up from the sidewalk to find you standing outside of his apartment complex. For a second Bokuto doesn’t know how to react, his mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether or not he’s hallucinating.

“Are you gonna stand there all day or are you gonna let me in? I’m hung-” Bokuto races forward, grabbing you and enveloping you in a bone crushing hug.

“I missed you so much” he mumbles, suddenly finding it hard to get his words out. He’s so sure that he’s dreaming and any second his alarm will go off, waking up once again to an empty bed. But the smell of your shampoo is right under his nose and your arms are squeezing him back in a way that feels too real to be a dream.

“I missed you too”

“What are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining”

“I requested a transfer to our American branch, that’s why I’ve been distant this past week. I was so excited I didn’t want to give anything away” You confess shyly, averting your gaze from his face. Cupping your cheeks with both of his hands he leans down to kiss you passionately, the feeling of your lips against his after so long feels so good that it sets every nerve in his body on fire.

“I love you, so much” he says, tightening his arms around your  body. All the doubts he’d been having immediately disappeared. It was stupid to think that after all this time a little distance would come between you two. It didn’t matter where you were, as long as you were together Bokuto was complete.

“I love you too Bo”

[sunshinejihyun]

Come Together || Nicky Horne

Author’s note: After far too many episodes of pining for this beautiful man, I finally decided to write something. This fic starts off where Episode 8 of the Boat Party leaves off on and is, essentially, what I wish and hope would happen but never will because Fusebox likes to torture me. I feel like this is the part where I should tag @kittidot​ because she 100% knows the pain of continually pining for Nicky week after week. And she's just a wonderful friend who’s always SO supportive of my writing, she deserves a little love.

Warnings: this contains descriptive NSFW scenes, please click away if that isn’t something you’re comfortable with reading

Word Count: 4,714

Summary: When a bottle of wine gets opened, out pours the feelings with it

Masterlist

Standing outside of her open door, Nicky casually draped himself against the side, watching her for a moment before gently tapping his fingers against the door. “Knock knock!”

She pushed herself up so she could see who was at the door and her bright smile danced over her face as she met his eyes. “You know, you don’t have to say ‘knock knock’, you just actually knocked!”

“I’d never thought of it that way!” Nicky had a smile teasing at his lips as he made his way over to the unoccupied side of her bed and he flopped onto it, actually grinning as she shrieked when he bounced her with his body weight.  “You know…” tucking his arms behind his head, he turned his face to look at her, only to find her already staring back at him. He didn’t know what to say, not really. He just knew he wanted to be around her and see her smile once more before he went to bed. “I still don’t get why it's a banana boat. Why not a carrot?” She cracked a smile at that and Nicky let out a long sigh, looking up at the ceiling of her room. There was a dimly lit ceiling light that was flickering every once in a while and Nicky  couldn’t take his eyes off it. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to look in her eyes and not blurt out his whole conversation with Elladine. “I don’t know why I’m asking myself these questions. I must be tired.”

Nicky heard the girl next to him yawn and he looked towards her, his heart thumping as he watched her rub her eyes sleepily. “I can’t believe how much we did today, I’m exhausted.”

Stretching his legs, Nicky’s eyes went back to the flickering light. “Right?”

In his head, Nicky was silently cursing himself.  Why couldn’t he think of something better, something funnier to say? Instead, all he said was ‘right’? What was wrong with him? Outwardly, he changed the subject. “I wanted to check that you and Bill were OK. So, how’s it going with you?”

She let out a heavy sigh and sat up on the bed, Nicky following suit. “Bill… he doesn’t like uncertainty. But it’s hard, because he never wants to have the serious conversation to work things out.”

Nicky’s shoulder was pressed directly against hers and her leg brushed his every time she fidgeted. “Ooh, Elladine can feel that way sometimes as well. And I mean, things have been a bit up in the air with the two of you.” Nicky thought back to the trip earlier, how he sat at the beach and watched as Bill stroked her hair, his arm wrapped around her as much as he could with lifejackets on. As Nicky watched her in the arms of someone else, he wished to himself he could feel her soft skin against his own, wished it was him she was in love with. “But you seemed to be getting on really well when you went for that swim. Speaking of… Elladine and I had a chat this evening. About it being hard on us when she’s away so much.” He didn’t want to bring up Elladine, their chat had also included some conversation about how Ella noticed the way Nicky looked at the girl he called his best friend.

Elladine wasn’t wrong, he looked at her like he was in love with her. Because he was. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in Elladine, he was. But this girl snuck up on him before he could even realize it. Elladine understood though, she wanted to try to work things through with him but she also wanted to give him time to think, he needed it.

The girl next to him moved her body so it was facing him and Nicky's breath caught in his throat as her night shirt slipped off her shoulder more and exposed more of her smooth skin. “What happened in your talk with her? Are you okay?”

Nicky let the words tumble out of his mouth, and he was so relieved to tell her what had happened. No matter his feelings for the girl, she was his best friend. “I was kinda nervous. But I thought, if Yasmin can open up then so can I. I said that I know how important her work is to her, but it’s hard when it takes over during ‘us time’. We’re gonna try and save work talk for particular times.  Then we can focus on each other when we’re together. But it felt good to talk about it properly. That’s a long way of saying thank you for the chat yesterday.  It made me think about things.”

The girl sat quiet, a thoughtful look on her face as she bit her lip. “Oh no!” Nicky gasped out, trying to get her to release that damn lip so he could focus on anything other than the thought of biting that same lip and the type of sound she’d make as he did so.

As predicted, her mouth dropped open in shock. “What is it?”

Nicky racked his brain, searching for anything he could say to change the subject. “Bill never got crowned the Banana Boat King!”

Her face dropped in disappointment and Nicky regretted bringing up Bill. “I think he’ll be okay. We didn’t have a crown to give anyways.”

Nicky needed to get out of the room for a moment, he needed to collect his thoughts. “I’ll go and ask Bill if he wants to donate his bottle of wine to us. Then we can share it.”

Her mouth slowly formed a smirk, causing Nicky’s stomach to fill with butterflies. That damn smirk, that damn lip, her shirt falling off her shoulder, all the accidental brushes of leg against leg and hand against hand - it was official: she was trying to kill him. “As long as you don’t hog it all!”

Nicky feigned offense, a hand pressed to his chest. “Would I do that to you?” Before she answered, he pushed himself off the bed, the need to take a breath of fresh air overwhelming. If he didn’t, he may act on impulse and ruin the friendship they’ve grown over their time in the villa and the year after. “I’ll go and ask Bill. Don’t go anywhere!”

As he shut the door, Nicky leaned against the locked door, breath coming out in fast pants. The effect this girl had on him was insane, like nothing he’d ever felt before. It drove him absolutely crazy.

Gathering his composure, Nicky made his way to the main deck of the ship and found Bill leaning over the railing, eyes traveling over the sea and to the moon before returning back to the water again. “Wishing you could be up there right now?” Nicky leaned next to Bill and smiled silently to himself as the other man jumped, pulled out of thought.

“Wishing the stars could send me the answer, to be honest.” Bill replied before shaking his head and laughing. “I sound like something from Lottie’s quiz now, which was the catalyst for us getting into a fight.” Bill’s light gaze settled on Nicky. “You’ve talked to her, yeah? How is she?”

Nicky sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Honestly, not great. But it’s not my place to say much else. I think you both should have a chat, one about everything. Put everything on the table, that sort of thing.” It was quiet between the two men for a moment, both of them awkwardly staring at the other. “I actually came to find you. Are you going to drink your bottle of wine?”

Bill thought for a moment before breaking eye contact. “No, you’re welcome to take it. I wasn’t going to drink it alone anyway.” Bill turned back towards the dark waters, staring at the moon’s reflection rippling, their conversation was over. So Nicky went and swiped a bottle of some sweet wine - which he knew was her favorite - and made his way back to her room, taking a deep breath and knocking on the door.

“Knock knock!” Much like earlier that night, she smiled at him, shaking her head after she opened the door to let him in.

“We talked about this!”

As Nicky plopped back on the bed, he held out the bottle to her. “Wanna open it?”

“Erm,” her face twisted in confusion and Nicky laughed. “I don’t have a bottle opener!”

Nicky silently held out his hand and she passed the bottle back, the neck warm where she had her hand wrapped around. “Neither do I!” Rubbing a hand over his forehead, he sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t even think about it.” “No biggie, I’ll go find one. Now it’s your turn to stay right here!” She held up her hands like Nicky did earlier and he laughed, settling onto her bed and closing his eyes, his legs crossed at his ankles. “Make yourself at home!”

“Don’t worry babe, I already did.” Nicky joked out and he heard a small chuckle from her before the door to her room closed.

Once she had left, Nicky sat up and took a look around her room. It looked like everyone else’s, it was a cruise ship room after all, but it was littered with things that made it so her. Her fruity smelling lip gloss lay on its side next to the eyeliner she continually wore, a book on the nightstand that she had told Nicky about was dogeared, and - oh man, some lacy red lingerie was laying on the back of a chair.

Nicky wasn’t sure, but he almost surely would have remembered seeing those when he came in for the first time. They were certainly unforgettable and he was glad he had seen them for the first time on his own; picturing her wearing those had his mouth drying out and his boxers tightening and right as the door reopened, he adjusted himself and hoped she wouldn’t question what he was looking at.  

The only thing running through his mind was curiosity. Did she pull those out while he was away and contemplate putting them on? Is it possible that she could feel the same way he did?

“Here,” she handed him a clear plastic cup filled to the top with some wine and Nicky laughed as he slurped at the top to keep it from falling out.

“We have all night! If I didn’t know any better, you’re trying to get me drunk quickly.” Mischief crossed over her features. “I’m trying to get both of us drunk! We deserve it!” She sipped out of her own cup and a drop of wine slipped over her bottom lip and Nicky physically had to restrain himself from leaning it over and sucking the droplet into his own mouth.

This was going to be a long night.

An hour later, they were taking sips from the bottle of wine, passing it back and forth instead of fussing with the plastic cups and potentially spilling anywhere.

“Can I ask you something?” Her head was resting against the headboard, next to Nicky’s feet.

“Girl, you can ask me anything!” Nicky was feeling the effects of the wine and he had lost his gray tee about twenty minutes ago, it was getting hot in the room.

“What do you think would have happened if I came down before Elladine and I had picked you? Or picked you at one of the earlier recouplings?” Her cheeks were rosy and she refused to lock eyes with him, opting to pick at the deep maroon color painted on her nails.

“I mean, we’re mates right?” Nicky laughed, glancing towards the red lace that was always in the corner of his eye. “We would have gotten along no matter what.” He didn’t want to say what was actually going through his mind: that he would have been overjoyed, that at each girl's choice he hoped she would choose him, but her eyes never even glanced over him. It was probably his fault, early on he had made a promise to himself, that he would stay loyal to Ella. So he compared her to his sister, and it killed him a little inside everytime. She was nowhere near being a sister to him, she was everything he wanted and more.

“No, I mean like if I picked you because I liked you romantically.”

Her name fell from his lips and Nicky found himself pushing himself up and moving closer to her, his hand resting on the bed near her upper thigh. “What are you trying to say?”

She buried her face in her hands after setting aside the bottle of wine. “I don’t know!” Nicky stayed silent, studying her face and as she opened one of her hands a peeked an eye out, he sent her a soft smile and gently pulled her hands away from her face. Absentmindedly, her hand clutched his and Nicky looked down at their connected hands. Her soft skin against his guitar calluses felt right. “There was a time I thought maybe we could have become something, but you never saw me as anything more than a sister.”

Nicky wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the fact that he had the chance to get his feelings off his chest, but he found himself blurting out everything he was thinking at that moment. “Out of everyone in the villa, I would have been proud to say that you were my partner. When you walked out that first day, you spared me no glance. You could have chosen me but you didn’t! So I figured you’d never see me that way.” Nicky let out a breath he was holding. “I told myself that I’d stay loyal to the person who chose me first and that was Elladine, but if you chose me at a recoupling… that would have changed so many things.”

“Nicky,” the way she whispered his name felt like being called home, like a soft blanket wrapping around his shoulders by his mum when he was sick. It felt exactly the way love should: soft and warm, fiery and comforting.

Reaching up to cup her cheek, Nicky pushed back some out of place strands of hair, much like he saw Bill do to her in the ocean earlier in the day. The sudden realization of what was happening caught up with him and he jerked his hand away, moving across the room to sit on the chair by the vanity.

And then his arm brushed something lacy and he blushed before pushing it to the floor, trying his best to ignore the pictures in his head. “We can’t do this.” He looked up and saw her face twisted in confusion and hurt. “We can’t do this to Bill and Elladine. We just can’t.”

Rubbing his hand up and down on his face, Nicky took a few deep breaths and looked at the girl. Tears were silently streaming down her cheeks and he wanted to cross the room and pull her into his arms, kissing all the tears away. But that mental image got pushed to the side by the thought of her tasting the sea salt off Bill’s skin earlier while Nicky watched from the sand and he pushed that thought to the side. “Nicky,” she sobbed out his name this time and his heart broke. “Please, Nicky.”

He wasn’t sure what she was pleading for; he wasn’t even sure she knew, but either way it ripped his heart in half. “When I talked with Ella, she also brought up you. She’s not blind, she saw the way I’d look at you. And I promised to try to work past those feelings so that she and I could try to work out even long distance. But you’re sitting there, and all I can think about is pulling you into my arms and kissing away your sadness and I’m so drunk and this isn’t fair to you.”

Without even realizing it, Nicky found himself kneeling next to her, his hand wrapped securely around hers. “You were always my first choice.” Her voice came out soft between hiccups. “No question.”

It was now or never, and since he’d told her everything else, he might put the rest of it out there. “You’re still my first choice.” Wordlessly she tugged on his arm, pulling his face close to hers. He knew what she wanted, he wanted it probably as much if not more. “If you don’t want this, I need you to stop me now.”

Without responding, she wrapped her arms around his neck and connected their lips. Nicky’s hands found her hips and as a thumb slipped under her loose shirt, he rubbed circles on her bare skin. Without breaking the kiss, she pulled him up and he followed her lead, laying his body on top of hers before his mouth left hers and trailed down to her neck, nipping and licking a trail to her collarbone before she tugged on his hair and brought his mouth back to hers. Their tongues met and Nicky felt her wrap her legs around his hips, drawing him as physically close as they could be with their clothes on. She tasted like tears and sunshine and Nicky found himself licking into her mouth more, eager to taste as much as he could. She was intoxicating; he was probably more drunk on the taste of her than he was from the wine.

Pulling back with a nip to her bottom lip, Nicky pushed some of her mussed hair away from her eyes and rejoiced in the whine that escaped her. “Did you pull those out earlier when I left you alone?” Nicky pointed to the pile of lace that was laying discarded on her otherwise clean floor and the deep flush on her neck and cheeks told him all he needed to know. “While you were gone all I could do was picture you in them.”

Her hand reached up to cup his neck and she stroked the sensitive skin there, causing Nicky to shudder and close his eyes. When he opened them, he saw her watching him intently and he leaned down to brush a kiss across her lips again. “Do you want me to put them on?” Nicky rolled off her and lightly tapped her bum when she got up from the bed and she giggled, picking them off the floor and glancing back at Nicky who was laying on his back, his hands resting just above the waistband of his pants and watching her appreciatively. “Don’t look while I change! Cover your eyes!”  

“Yes ma’am,” Nicky drawled out, one of his hands dropping on his eyes and shielding his view from the girl.

As he felt a body straddle him, his hands immediately went to cup her ass and as he felt the rough lace he groaned. “You can open your eyes now.”

His eyes landed on her face but quickly traveled down her curves, stopping to appreciate the red lace on her chest before moving his gaze lower, eyeing the underwear as well. “Red suits you.”

Smacking her hand gently against his bare chest, she laughed. “That’s all you have to say?” He gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her upper body down so her clothed breasts were pushed against his chest.

Kissing her deeply, he pulled away only to growl in her ear. “What I could say is that it makes you look sexy as hell and makes me want to do everything to you that you’ll let me. It’s so much better than anything my imagination could have come up with.”

She moaned as his teeth grazed her earlobe and Nicky’s hardon pressed insistently against her. There was no way she couldn’t tell how much he wanted her.

“Please,” she whimpered out as he pressed kisses up and down the valley of her breasts.

“Use your words,” he teased, delivering a harder nip to the part of her breasts that were uncovered and she let out a loud moan, causing Nicky to do the same thing a few more times.

“Please touch me.” She whispered and that was all the confirmation he needed to reach around and unhook the bra, throwing it onto the floor before cupping her breasts in both hands and thumbing her nipples softly.

“If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to. We can stop and go to sleep and then go back like everything is normal tomorrow.” Nicky took his hands off of her, despite it being the last thing he wanted to do. What they were doing now was bad, but if they went all the way, there’d be no point of return. He wanted to make sure this is exactly what she wanted.

“Nicky, I can say this with complete certainty: you’re what I want. I’ve sobered up, and this is still what I want so, please,” there she was with the pleading again and Nicky hooked his arms around her legs and flipped them over so he was laying on top of her. “You’re in a lot more clothes than me.” She pouted, her bottom lip sticking out obscenely and Nicky pulled at it with his teeth before raising himself off of her and peeling his sweatpants and boxers off.

“Better?” He teased, settling himself back on top of her, his boner pressing right against her clothed center.

“Much,” she replied, tracing her nails lightly across Nicky’s chest and wiggling her hips against his own, his moan drew out a giggle from her lips and he quickly went to cover her mouth with his own. “Nicky, I need you.” She was panting against his mouth and her hips were moving against him on their own accord.

Raising himself off her body, Nicky knelt down by the lower half of her body and dipped his calloused fingers into each side of her panties before pulling them down, making sure to kiss up and down her calf as he did so. “Do you have a condom?” He asked, his fingers finding his way to her wet folds and rubbing a few light circles on her clit.

“Nightstand drawer,” she moaned out, her hips moving to meet his fingers. Pulling away, Nicky rubbed her wetness from his fingers onto his cock before slowly reaching over to grab a condom and roll it on his hard length.

As he sunk into her, Nicky groaned out her name in time with her calling his and as he thrust into her, his eyes never left hers, wanting to savor this moment while he could. When he felt her come around him, he buried his head in her neck and kissed and bit more hickeys onto her previously unblemished skin before his thrusts sped up, chasing his own release.

After discarding the condom in the trash, Nicky flopped back on the bed, pulling the sheet up and around their naked bodies before turning over and spooning her, an arm resting lazily around her waist. “You weren’t kidding earlier when you said we did a lot today, I’m way more than exhausted now.”

Nicky heard her stifle a yawn before laughing sleepily, sinking back farther into his chest. “Night, Nicky.”

“Night babe,” he replied before leaning over and pressing the button to finally turn off the flickering ceiling light.

She was awake before him and the feel of her nails tracing pointless patterns on his naked skin roused Nicky from the deep slumber he was in, goosebumps forming in the wake of her path. “Morning,” She didn’t reply, opting to continue the swirling on his chest. “Are you okay?”

Shaking her head, she buried her head in his chest and Nicky’s heart dropped into his stomach at the thought of her being upset. Gently smoothing down her hair, he held the woman close to him and whispered calming words, hoping that they would help soothe her into telling him what was the matter.

Minutes passed and her breathing evened out again and seconds later, he heard her soft snores fill the room. Laughing to himself, Nicky pulled her closer to him and closed his eyes again as well.

It could have been minutes or hours, Nicky wasn’t sure, but all he knew was that Seb was pounding on her door, asking her if she’d seen Nicky anywhere, he was late for their podcast recording. She called back saying they accidentally fell asleep in there and Nicky was going to be out in a moment before rolling over and grabbing her discarded sleep shirt off the floor.

“Hey, are you gonna tell me what was the matter earlier?” Nicky caught hold of her wrist and gently traced his fingertips along the inside of her arm. “I was worried.”

She began to speak and then stopped herself before letting out a big sigh and trying again. “It’s going to be hard to see you with Elladine today.” Sitting down next to him, she didn’t close the distance between them so Nicky did, their hands just barely brushing each other. “I don’t know what I should have expected… We can still be friends right?”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have done what we did last night if you weren’t the one I wanted to be with.” Nicky’s eyes tried to seek out her own but she wouldn’t look away from their connected hands. “I’m going to tell Elladine that I’ve thought about what I want and that what I want is you, even if you’re not ready to give up what you and Bill have going on.”

“I told you last night, you were always my first choice. You still are.” Once her eyes met his own, Nicky immediately felt at peace. “Whatever Bill and I had in the villa is gone, we’ve not been good for a long time. We’ve only stayed together because that’s what everyone expected of us.” Silence for a moment, and then, “I will always care for him, but only as a friend.” “Same with me for Ella,” Nicky admitted. “I’m nervous as to how this is gonna go.” “Me too,” she replied, biting her swollen lips.

“We’ll figure it out together?” Nicky questioned, moving to stand up and holding a hand out to pull her up with him.

“Yes, together.” She agreed, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to his lips. All their shared kisses from the night before were full of passion and lust, but this one, the one filled with pure love and admiration had to be Nicky’s favorite. “I’ve better let you go, Seb’s probably already planning my demise.”

“Yeah, and you’ve gotta spend some time with some makeup today.” Nicky teased, gesturing at all the hickeys covering her neck.

“I’ll see you in a little bit?” She asked, reluctant to let go of his hand and Nicky felt himself feeling the same. He knew that as soon as he left her he’d be counting down the seconds until he got to be in her presence again.

“You know it babe!” He replied before leaning down and kissing her softly once more. With one more glance back at her, Nicky shut the door behind him and came face to face with Seb. “Hey,”

“Finally tell her how you feel?” Seb clapped him on the back and Nicky grinned at his friend.

“Yeah, is it that obvious?”

“I’ve never seen you look happier,” Seb’s honest answer was shocking to Nicky but Seb quickly covered it up with a smirk. “That, and the billions of hickeys covering your neck.”

Nicky’s hands flew up to cover his bruised neck and he blushed as Seb laughed. “Don’t we have a show to record?”

“Sure, but after you’re gonna have to tell me this: where do the hickeys end?”

“Mate, you don’t even want to know!” Nicky laughed.

As he and Seb joked around for half an hour on their podcast, Nicky’s mind swarmed with all the possible outcomes telling Elladine could bring. He knew he could handle it though, because no matter what, he had someone special waiting for him afterwards.

[artificialqueens]

Level Up, Chapter Nine (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

(read on ao3) (full fic)

Vanessa’s watching her opponent’s arms like a hawk, coiled in front of their face ready to shoot forward at any moment. She’s looking for an opening, a chance where her opponent falters for just a second, where there’s a chance for her to land a clean hit, in and out, ending up with the points that she needs to win.

It’s strategy. It’s a game. It’s absolutely exhilarating.

AN: Thank you guys so much for the love on this fic so far, I really appreciate it! Every single review makes me so happy to know that you guys are reading it and enjoying it and have something to say about it. It’s the best thing to come back to as a writer. After a month, here’s chapter nine! Hope you enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think. Writ as usual is the best beta <3

Silky had asked Vanessa once about what goes through her mind when she’s in a match. What she’s thinking. And truth be told, even when Vanessa’s in it, it’s hard for her to really decipher everything.

When Vanessa’s in a fight, the world seems to slow down around her. She’s aware of every blink of her opponent’s eyes, every bead of sweat that is dripping from their temples to their eyebrows onto their cheeks. Vanessa’s watching her opponent’s arms like a hawk, coiled in front of their face ready to shoot forward at any moment. She’s looking for an opening, a chance where her opponent falters for just a second, where there’s a chance for her to land a clean hit, in and out, ending up with the points that she needs to win.

It’s strategy. It’s a game. It’s absolutely exhilarating.

This first fight feels pretty standard, so far shaping up to be what she’s prepared for. Vanessa’s unravelling the opponent’s tells with each minute that passes, and now, by the third round? She knows that the girl’s first instinct is to feint and jab high before actually going for a lower blow, and that she’s likely to block hits with her right. It’s all too easy for Vanessa, really, to land hit after hit by striking one step ahead while the girl is feinting a high punch, leaving her midsection wide open. Vanessa switches up her stance every time the girl’s shoulders relax for a second, because she can hear Brooke’s voice in her head lecturing her about the importance of being as comfortable attacking with her left side as much as her right and more dominant side.

It’s a puzzle that never fails to make Vanessa’s blood pump faster - her eyes narrow just a little bit more with every combo she can successfully throw at this girl, every hit that she blocks and counters with attacks of her own because she’s able to predict when the girl is going to strike. Each trill of the whistle that signifies the end of a round is a jolt in her ears, barely calming the electric current that buzzes along her limbs, keeping her on her toes even when she’s pulled to the side of the ring by Brooke in between rounds.

“Keep it up for this last round and you’ll be in the clear.” The approving tone in Brooke’s voice makes Vanessa stand up just a little bit taller as she tries to catch her breath, still bouncing on the balls of her feet. “She looks like she’s getting a bit worn out, too. It’ll be easier to land hits the more off kilter she is.”

Brooke tilts her head slightly towards the other side of the ring where Vanessa’s opponent and her coach are huddled, and it’s hard to miss the slight pout and downturned lips on the girl’s face, perfectly complimenting the furrow of her eyebrows. Her shoulders slump almost comically, and the way that she huffs and crosses her arms is reminiscent of the child beauty queens on Toddlers and Tiaras.

“You’ve got this last round,” Brooke reaches out, squeezing Vanessa’s shoulder as she winks when the referee blows his whistle, “so finish this match and let’s get ready for the next one.”

It doesn’t feel like a victory when the round ends and the referee hoists Vanessa’s fist into the air, declaring her win without a single word. The approving nods of the judges around the ring don’t mean much, not yet, not when winning this match is just a stepping stone onto the next one, where she’s going to have to face someone new and start the process of unravelling their tells all over again like she’s just finished doing with her first opponent.

The screen at the far end of the hall tells Vanessa that it’s only ten thirty. The tournament has only just started, and one successful match isn’t something to celebrate just yet, not when she has more to go. Still, it doesn’t stop her from squealing when she sees Monique leaving a fight of her own, the shit eating grin on her face telling Vanessa that she’s just won her first match, too.

“Bad bitches! Two bad bitches. Tell me, how does it feel to kick ass on this fine morning?” Monique spins in place and her excitement is contagious, any tiredness from Vanessa’s first match evaporating on the spot.

“It feels fucking fantastic, is how it feels. We just need Eye of the Tiger playing for the full dramatic effect.” Vanessa snickers.

“That’s old school. Play WAP and then we’ll be talking.” Monet slides up behind them, and Vanessa can’t help but double take at the sweats and sliders she’s in.

Monet catches the look and shrugs. “Bombed my first match. Got my ass whooped. But it’s whatever, I’m just gonna be here in the comfort of my sweats while watching y’all. My day’s gonna be easy.”

Vanessa reaches out to pat her shoulder, but Monet shakes her head. “Honestly? Pressure’s off for me now. I get to watch the rest of y’all stress.”

“Y’know, she’s got a point.” Monique raises an eyebrow, and Vanessa can’t help but let out a snort.

“You’re gonna keep fighting. No giving in because you wanna sit in the stands with Monet in your sweats.”

“You’re no fun.”

Monet pulls out her phone. “I’m gonna grab some food ‘cause I’m ‘bout to pass out. Anyone want anything?”

“I’m coming, my next match isn’t for another hour,” Monique grins, “so plenty of time to digest.”

Vanessa, though, shakes her head, because the thought of food feels almost foreign right now, not when she’s still so worked up and with her next match being so soon. “I’ll hold off. Maybe later.”

She waves her friends off and cranes her neck to look around the hall. Brooke had excused herself to the bathroom at least fifteen minutes ago, and the fact that she’s not back yet makes Vanessa wonder if she’s been held up. Is there really that long of a line for the bathroom at a boxing tournament?

Except there’s no line when Vanessa finds the bathroom, and Brooke’s not inside the enclosed area when Vanessa peeks in, fixing her flyaways in the mirror. When Vanessa pushes the door open though, stepping back out into the hall, she sees why she really didn’t have to go into the bathroom in the first place.

Brooke’s surrounded by what looks like a small army of athletes, tucking their hair behind their ears and batting their eyelashes and Vanessa doesn’t know what’s funnier - the way they’re all clamouring to get a word in or the way Brooke looks like she’s smelled something terrible.

“I can’t believe Brooke Lynn Hytes is here-”

“Are you ever gonna make a comeback?”

“You were like, my favourite boxer when I was a kid-”

The chattering blurs together when Vanessa peeks at Brooke’s expression, the polite smile on her face not quite hiding the way her brows are climbing higher and higher on her forehead. She’s at a bit of a loss of what to do - maybe Brooke doesn’t mind the commotion and doesn’t necessarily want to be rescued, but on the other hand her foot is tapping a beat on the floor that’s getting faster and faster. She’s getting twitchy.

Vanessa’s about to take a hesitant step forward when Brooke turns in her direction, and the relief in her eyes is palpable as they widen upon seeing her.

“What should I do?” Vanessa mouths, trying not to draw the crowd’s attention towards her, as a girl shoves a flyer and sharpie in front of Brooke’s face for her to autograph.

Brooke shrugs, taking a step back when another girl tries to take a selfie with her, blinking at the brightness of the flash. “Improvise!”

Well, there’s no time like the present for Vanessa to foray into an acting career.

“Oof. Ow.” Vanessa cradles her wrist in her other hand, trying her best to convey a wincing expression on her face. She’s about to limp, before realizing she’s pretending that her arm is hurt, not her leg.

There’s a reason Vanessa got the part of a tree branch in her third grade class play. It had required her to do absolutely nothing to sell the part.

Lucky for her, Brooke’s more than willing to step up to bat. “Vanessa! Are you hurt? Shit, excuse me, pardon me, just have to check on my athlete, coming through-”

Brooke pushes her way through the athletes until she reaches her, and Vanessa pretends to wince again for good measure. “Oh no, we better get this checked out before your next match, can’t have it giving out on you, can we?” Brooke spins to face the athletes, an expression of fake sadness on her face that Vanessa has to admit is pretty convincing. “So sorry to leave, it’s been wonderful to meet you all! But the sport always comes first, you know how it is. I’ll see you all around!”

Vanessa grabs onto Brooke with her other hand and practically sprints, ducking past the other coaches and spectators and athletes and pulling Brooke into the first empty hallway that pops up. Brooke nearly skids past her, recovering fast enough to find her footing before leaning against the opposite wall.

“Holy shit.” Vanessa gasps out, her giggles interspersed with the way she’s still trying to catch her breath. “Did you just-”

“Carry that fake injury plot on my back? Yes I did.” Brooke grins as she bends over, her hands resting against her knees as she tries to regulate her own breathing.

Vanessa sticks out her tongue. “Now that’s no way to treat someone saving you from a wild pack of fangirls, is it? Seriously though, I didn’t expect that.”

“Shit, honestly, me neither. It’s not that something like that hasn’t happened before, it’s just…it’s been awhile since it has.” Brooke lets out a breath. “I was used to it back in the day, competing all the time. But it’s been awhile since I’ve been in a place like this, where people actually know who pro boxers are.”

“You telling me you used to be smooth and suave while handling crowds?” Vanessa raises an eyebrow, trying to picture the sight of Brooke however many years ago.

“Don’t act like it’s that hard to believe. I totally was. I just gotta get that mojo back if I’m gonna come to competitions with you and have to say hello to people. Either that, or wear a disguise. Dress incognito.”

Vanessa snickers. “Ah, the life of a niche famous person is so hard. All the adoring fans. How are you ever going to survive it?”

“Shut up.” Brooke shoves Vanessa’s shoulder, but she’s laughing too, shaking her head as she does. “Seriously though, thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Princess Diana. Or Taylor Swift. Which paparazzi-favourite celebrity do you prefer?”

Brooke rolls her eyes. “The better question is, let’s see which one of us has her next fight in hmm, let me check my watch, fifteen minutes. Don’t make me make your warm up exercises a bitch.”

“Whatever you say, Lady Gaga. Hey, you could sing her song Paparazzi with all this media attention you’re getting, couldn’t you?” Vanessa flashes Brooke a grin before turning on her heels, practically sprinting back to the competition area before Brooke can retaliate in any way.

If nothing else, at least Vanessa’s keeping her humble. Never too good to have a big head.

The second match of the day is almost easier than the first - the girl falls for her feints almost too easily, giving Vanessa the chance to land clean hit after hit, and she’s barely breaking a sweat when the referee blows the whistle to end the final round. The referee lifts her fist up and maybe it’s the cheering of everyone around the ring watching them, maybe it’s the way he yells out her name as the winner, but Vanessa’s heart is still pumping at the speed of light, the rushing of blood loud in her ears and she feels like a fucking rockstar.

The best part, though? Brooke. At the edge of the ring, she has a sparkle in her eyes and a smile on her face that Vanessa can feel in her soul. Brooke cheers along with everyone else but there’s something about having her approval that feels different. Right. It’s enough to make every morning practice, every rep and extra minute of sparring worth it, just for the clap on the back that Brooke gives her as she helps her over the ropes of the ring and onto the ground.

“Fucking killed that.” Vanessa doesn’t mean to sound cocky but it’s hard not to when she feels like a million dollars, having obliterated both of the opponents that she’s faced so far.

She’s just left the ring but she wants more, because her muscles feel as if they’re laced with electricity that can keep her going for two, three, four more matches. The sensation is addicting and Vanessa almost feels drunk on it, the desire to win again almost an itch that she can’t scratch.

“Not gonna lie, you really did.” The pride in Brooke’s eyes is hard to miss but there’s a hesitancy too, one that’s hard to miss with the purse of her lips.

So Vanessa shoots her a questioning look. “What? Did I not do as well as I thought?”

“Just…be careful. Don’t get overconfident too early, especially when you have another match still left in the day. Letting your guard down means your next opponent is going to have an easy in.”

Vanessa wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It ain’t over ‘till it’s over. I’m still allowed to be pumped, though.”

“Didn’t say you aren’t,” Brooke tugs on one of Vanessa’s braids lightly, “but remember that you’re not done yet. Trust me, I’m speaking from experience.”

“You’ve let your guard down too early?”

“Every time I thought I had a match in the bag because I did fine on earlier ones, I didn’t. And I always paid for it majorly.” Brooke’s pointed look makes Vanessa want to scowl, because she’s not that cocky. She’ll be ready for the next one.

Just like she’d been for her first two matches of the day.  

Vanessa makes her way towards the plastic chairs that Kameron and a handful of athletes from the gym have taken over, plopping herself down beside Asia with a grin.

“Made it through to the finals in my division.” Vanessa holds up a hand and Asia returns the high five immediately, though she’s biting her lip, her eyes looking a little wild.

“Why do you look like you’re about to puke?” Vanessa raises an eyebrow and Asia shushes her almost comically, slinking down in her chair.

“Can you not be so loud?”

“What, bitch?”

Asia pulls her hood up over her head, mumbling something under her breath that Vanessa can’t hear. Vanessa scoots herself closer until her and Asia are close enough to bonk their foreheads together.

“Speak up.”

“KameronandIkissed.”

“What?”

“Shh!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Vanessa mumbles under her breath, trying to resist the urge to rub her temples, “how? When? Where? Did you swap spit out here on the chairs? The fuck?”

“What? No!” Asia whispers, making frantic shushing gestures with her index finger. “She was giving me a pep talk before my second match. In the hallway. Which happened to be empty.”

“And decided it would be best to end with a makeout session?” Vanessa feels like she’s about to explode because holy shit. Asia’s crush on Kameron isn’t exactly a secret and quite frankly, it’s always looked reciprocated.

But a first kiss before a match? Damn.

“It wasn’t a makeout session! Who do you take me for?” Asia sputters but Vanessa raises an eyebrow, and snickers when Asia seems to deflate. “Okay, maybe it was a bit. But I won the match and now it feels like I can’t even look her in the eye because the last thing we did before the match was kiss.”

“So what? Go kiss her again, dumbass. It’s not rocket science.” Vanessa feels like Dr. Phil, with her friends’ love lives. First Monique and Monet not figuring themselves out and now Asia in a tizzy over Kameron.

But Asia’s crossing her arms. “She’s a coach! I can’t just go and kiss a coach.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you technically already kissed a coach.” Vanessa snickers, trying her best to hold back the urge to wiggle her brows.

“Shut up.” Asia grumbles. “I can’t believe I can never talk to her again.”

“Never again-what do you mean, never again?” Vanessa nearly falls off of her chair as she leans forward, poking Asia’s shoulder. “Go talk to her and also make out with her. In fact, Kameron’s looking over right this second.”

The subtle looks that Kameron is throwing in Asia’s direction are hard to miss when Vanessa knows what to watch for, and she just wants to let out a little yell under her breath. Because something’s happening. Vanessa doesn’t know what, exactly, but if anything, she loves watching the show.

“What? She is? Shit, I gotta hide. She won’t see me if I slide off the chair and crouch, will she?” Asia’s beginning to slide to the front of her chair and Vanessa snorts, reaching out a hand to grab the back of her hoodie.

“You’re not exactly invisible, and it’s going to look way more suspicious if you do that.” Vanessa tugs on Asia’s hoodie, revealing her face again. “What’s the harm in talking to her?”

“Because then we have to talk.” Asia groans, dropping her face in her hands.

Vanessa reaches out to pat her shoulder. “I know you’d rather kiss her and all that, but you’ll have to talk eventually, y’know. You’re sitting in shotgun and navigating for the ride home.”

Asia lifts up her face to scowl. “First, I wouldn’t rather kiss her. Okay, maybe I would, but still. Second, I’ll just get Monet or Monique to navigate. I’ll hide in the back or something.”

“No you won’t. You’re going to talk to Kameron on the drive home about the kiss. And then go kiss her again.”

It’s foolproof, really. Straight out of a romantic comedy. Should be easy enough to execute.

“I’m never coming to you for advice again.”

Or not.

“You’ll thank me later when the two of you are together.” Vanessa grins, an expression that grows when Asia groans.

Vanessa has to tell Monet and Monique about this, because they’ll have to figure out a way to get Asia into that front seat. If any one of them is going to end up with a boo, it may as well be Asia. Despite her spooked horse tendencies.

Vanessa’s gotta ask Brooke about it. Maybe Kameron’s telling her about it too, from the way the two of them are deep in conversation only a few rows over. Not that Vanessa gets the chance to do so, because when Brooke’s getting up out of her seat and handing her a protein bar, they’re on their way to the last match.

It’s not too worrisome. Vanessa will be fine, just like how she had been for her first two matches. She takes a swig of her Gatorade in their corner of the ring as Brooke wraps up her other hand, feeling the energy growing in her limbs the closer and closer the clock overhead ticks to the start of the match. The crowd is bigger than those from her first two matches, seven to eight rows deep around all sides of the ring and it makes the excitement bubble higher and higher in Vanessa’s stomach. Reaching the finale in her weight class is one thing. But winning this match and thus winning her weight class?

It’ll be even better.

“Feeling alright?” Brooke grabs Vanessa’s other hand once the first one is wrapped, her touch delicate as she covers Vanessa’s knuckles for the third time that day.

Vanessa would be lying if she said that she doesn’t feel her heart beat just a little bit faster every time Brooke does up her wraps for her, but she can’t think about it now. Not during a tournament. Not when the first round of her last match is coming up in a few minutes and she gets to kick ass all over again.

So she shrugs. “Feeling just fine.”

“Good. So stay alert, look for her tells, and take her down using her own game.”

The girl across the ring is intimidating, Vanessa will give her that, with a sleeve of tattoos on one arm extending all the way to her fingers. She doesn’t look too afraid herself, fastening her gloves with her teeth while her coach gives her a pep talk of her own. The girl’s coach towers over her, but then again, it doesn’t mean much when Vanessa isn’t blessed in the height department either.

But Vanessa can beat her. Just like she’s beaten her other two opponents today.

The girl shoots her a grin as the referee beckons the two of them closer, the gold mouth guard she’s flashing almost akin to a grill. Vanessa’s hands are up and protecting her face and abdomen before the whistle blows, because she’s ready, and-

Damn.

The girl is fast, with a jab and a cross and an uppercut as soon as the round starts and Vanessa blocks them just in time, letting out a breath when the girl steps back. But she’s fine, it doesn’t matter if the girl is fast because Vanessa is too, and the combination that she throws at the girl with her hook is enough to land a clean hit against the chest. But then the girl is back and in Vanessa’s space and too close but she’s most definitely in the right spot to crowd her and land a bunch of hits that make Vanessa scowl as she retreats, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

The pierce of the whistle is almost welcome, as Vanessa flops onto the stool in her corner of the ring. Brooke’s handing her a water bottle and patting her forehead with a towel and her raised eyebrows make Vanessa shrug.

“So not the best start to a round. I’ll get there.”

“Crowd her space first. She’s trying to catch you off guard, so you need to be in there before she’s ready. You can probably get a few in with jabs and a backhand before she’s realized what’s happening.” Brooke reaches out a hand for the water bottle once Vanessa’s finished, taking a swig herself.

Vanessa rolls out her neck, wiping the sweat off of her forehead with the back of the glove and it’s just as well because the whistle is blowing again, pulling them back for another round.

Except that the girl figures Vanessa out too easily. She’s hitting back in the mere milliseconds that Vanessa’s guards are down, landing hits that will count in her favour and it’s frustrating, being a second behind. The girl takes advantage of every time that Vanessa pauses and takes a second to strategize, breaking through her train of thought every time with a hit that Vanessa should be able to block and counter with a combination of her own. But it’s feeling impossible when Vanessa’s attempted hits turn into fumbles, when all she can do is try to block the girl as best as she can.

“Fuck!” Vanessa’s scowling by the next break, dropping her head between her knees because this is wrong, not how this match should be going.

What the hell is she doing wrong?

“She’s getting in your head. Don’t let her do that.” Brooke’s crouching beside her, a hand on her knee and Vanessa wants to shake it off, because everything feels prickly, the energy previously flowing her limbs now acting like currents that are slowly setting her on fire.

Vanessa sits back up, leaning against the ropes of the ring. “How the fuck not? I can’t focus ‘cause she’s too fast and I’m crashing ‘cause it’s been a long fucking day, and I can’t do this.”

Maybe it’ll be less embarrassing if Vanessa throws in the towel now. She’s clearly in over her head, and it’s too much and maybe if she leaves with her tail in between her legs she can preserve a small shred of dignity without getting her ass whooped even more in the process.

“You’re not giving in that easily, are you?” Brooke’s raising an eyebrow and Vanessa wants to growl. “Thought you had more in you than that.”

“I do, I just…fuck.” She can’t go and give up when Brooke’s looking at her like that. Not that she would, anyway, but for a second, the option is tempting.

Vanessa is just going to crumble into pieces during the course of the match instead.

Brooke turns her chin towards her. “Listen. She’s not invincible. This is just me in the gym, pushing you just a little too hard when you’re tired. Nothing more. That’s all you’re facing right now.”

It’s easy enough for Brooke to say, Vanessa supposes, when the whistle blows again to signal the next round and her opponent is looking as fresh as ever, already bouncing on her feet. Vanessa feels like she’s stuck in molasses, her limbs sluggish as they fight against an invisible force and her brain just a second behind. She’s blindsided by hits that she’d be able to block easily in the gym, counter with a few of her own, but right now?

She’s fighting worse than someone who’s never boxed before.

Everything is too loud, too blinding around her as the third round ends and she slumps on her stool in the corner of the ring, dropping her head into her hands. The lights are too bright and there are too many people watching the match and all Vanessa wants to have is the ability to disappear into her brain and hide away and turn everything around her off.

There’s a hand on Vanessa’s knee, and when she opens her eyes Brooke is looking at her with a sympathetic expression and she hates it. She doesn’t want to have to see it, because it means that Brooke also knows that she’s in deep shit in this round, that there’s no way to come back from it. Instead, both of them get to watch this slow descent towards a loss that almost feels worse than if Vanessa was hit with a knockout. She gets to see the foundations of her boxing skills break down one by one, all because now she’s faced with a little bit of pressure that she can’t face up against.

She knows that Kameron, Asia, Monet, and Monique are in the crowd, along with the rest of the athletes from their gym. There’s other competitors that Vanessa hasn’t met yet, more coaches and spectators here just for the entertainment of it all. There’s even television cameras because the tournament is being broadcast on some offshoot sports channel on cable and god, the fact that people Vanessa doesn’t even know are seeing her in this state?

She hates it.

The referee’s whistle is piercing, cutting through her thoughts and bringing her back to the stool she’s on, the cheering of the crowd, and most importantly, her opponent who’s already bouncing on her feet and ready to go.

She still has one more round to go.

Fucking hell.

Tags: branjie, brooke lynn hytes, vanessa vanjie mateo, lesbian au, boxer au, holtzmanns, level up

[deermi]

Pink Roses | Part 3

Summarry: Chanyeol was coming everyday with his pink hair and a bright smile. You didn’t even bother asking what he wanted because he always bought one type of flowers. And one day he didn’t.

Gnere: Fluff

Warnings: none (this fic is soft)

AU: Florist

Pairing: Park Chanyeol x Reader

Word count: 4k~

Author’s note: One more part to go!

I was laughing so hard that tears started to form in my eyes and my stomach began to hurt.

Chanyeol and I had been watching a movie for the past half an hour. It weren’t the jokes, or the plot of it that made me laugh; it were Chanyeol’s silly comments that made every single scene seen funnier.

“You should stop.” I managed to breath out “I am not able to catch a breath and also I can’t focus on the plot. This isn’t a comedy, Chan!”.”

“Yeah, I know.” he said “But just imagine if I did a voice over to this movie and people would watch it on Netflix or at the cinema. Just think of the amount of extra money the movie producer would automatically make”

Once again I bursted out laughing. 

“Nobody would hire you to do a voice over when all you do is comment something out of blue and make dick jokes.”

“But you think they’re funny.” Chanyeol looked at me “You wouldn’t laugh if you didn’t.”

I scoffed while crossing my arms over my chest and raised my eyebrows in a teasing motion.

“How do you know I’m not laughing just to make you feel better?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t do that.” he rolled his eyes “First of all because you’re not fake like that and second of all - you think I’m hilarious.”

Knowing he was right, I just stuck out my tongue and turned my head back at the movie playing on the screen. Chanyeol’s giggle muffled the sounds coming out of the TV making the corners of my mouth curl up into small smile almost automatically. He perfectly knew what impact he and his humor had on me so there was no use in fighting. 

Since the day of our meeting I could tell that Chanyeol was the moodmaker, that one person who had to always keep everybody happy. But I also had a feeling that while caring so much about the others he easily forgot about himself. The moment he had almost broken down next to me after finding out that his girlfriend had cheated on him I had immediately realized that I never want his beautiful smile to disappear.

“Hey.” Chanyeol’s voice made me snap out of my thoughts

I hummed trying to focus of him and the movie once more.

“I was asking if you’re tired because you suddenly went so quiet, but I guess you were just thinking intensively and now I want to know what were you thinking about.” he put his arm on the back of the couch, right behind me, and leaned on it slightly

“Nothing.” I mumbled and stretched out my arms trying to pretend that sleep was slowly taking over me “I’m just tired, I think.”

Chanyeol’s eyes scanned my face slowly, trying to figure out what’s on my mind.

“A penny for your thoughts?” he raised his eyebrows

“It’s really nothing.” I smiled gently “So not this time.”

The moment I said that, the movie finished and the credits showed up on the screen. Swiftly, I got up from the couch we were sitting on and stretched out my sore limbs. It felt like I hadn’t changed my position ever since we started our mini movie marathon. I grabbed my phone laying on the small coffee table in front of us to check what time it was.

“Oh god.” I gasped when I saw the time on the screen “I really should get going now, it’s almost 1AM.”

Chanyeol got up from the couch and looked down at me with a slight frown on his face.

“Do you really think that I’ll let you go home now?” he asked “Alone at this time? When it’s so dark outside?”

“No, Chanyeol. I can’t-” I started, but he quickly cut me off

“You’re staying for the night and I don’t want to hear any excuses from you.” 

I let out a deep sigh. He was right to some point - walking back home all alone only with those dim lights of street lamps brightening up the scene made me shiver. Still, I felt like staying over was too much to ask from him. 

“Chan, but what about Baekhyun?” I asked “He’s your roommate so I think you should ask him if he doesn't have anything against it.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t or at least he shouldn't have. He doesn’t ask me when he’s letting his girlfriend stay over.”

I giggled at his frustrated comment and felt the small blush spread on my cheeks. I knew Chanyeol couldn't see it so in my mind, I thanked our past selves for not deciding to turn on any light leaving the room dark, only the screen of the TV brightening up the space.

“Are you saying that I’m an equivalent of Baekhyun’s girlfriend?” I smirked

I didn’t need any light to know that Chanyeol’s face slowly started to match the shade of his fluffy hair. 

“N-no... “ he mumbled while caressing the back of his neck “I mean, yes... No, wait. Yes, but not exactly.”

His embarrassed smile made me smile even wider.

“I’m just kidding.” I said “Don’t stress out too much.”

“Ha, ha, very funny Y/N.” Chanyeol rolled his eyes, but I could clearly see that he was just trying to play it cool “Whatever. Now go to my room and get some sleep. I’ll take the couch.”

“Oh no.” I shook my head “That’s a big no from me. You’re letting me stay here so I can’t simply ask you to sleep in the living room.”

“But you’re my guest so I guess you are privileged in this case.”

“Not this time.” 

I laid down on the now empty couch sending Chanyeol a signal that I am the one who will be sleeping here. 

“Now go to your own bed.” I said while closing my eyes 

To my surprise, Chan didn’t say anything. Instead, I suddenly felt his strong arms around me easily picking me up. I let out a squeal as he threw me over his shoulders and began walking to his room. I started to hit his back playfully, but his grip on my body was strong. 

The next thing I felt was a soft mattress under my back after Chanyeol threw me on his bed. 

“Hey!” I screamed as I rested my body on my forearms “That’s not fair.” 

“Not everything in life is fair.” he wiggled his eyebrows and sat down next to me

I laughed quietly and with a smile on my face I looked the pink haired boy in the eyes.

“Thank you.” I whispered 

“For throwing you on the bed?”

“No.” I laughed “For letting me stay.”

Chanyeol waved his hand at me.

“It’s nothing. Really.”

We went silent for a moment before I spoke again.

“A penny for your thoughts?” I laid down on the mattress and looked at the ceiling fully aware of the boy’s presence next to me

“Okay, you got me there.” the sound of his laugh filled the room “You have no idea how bad I would feel if I had let you go back home at this time.”

I wanted to thank him once again that evening, but before I could say anything he asked me “A penny for your thoughts?

Our eyes locked as I said “Delphinium.”

“What?” he laughed at me

“It’s a flower.”

“Oh yeah, I should’ve been expecting this from you.” he snorted “So now I’ll need to check it’s meaning, right?

“It’s up to you whether you want to know what I have on my mind or not.” 

With a smirk on my face I closed my eyes and with the soft mattress under me I felt tiredness slowly taking over me. We both went silent again, not even a sound coming from the outside of the apartament. Chanyeol didn’t say anything, but I could feel his gaze on my figure.

And with that feeling I almost fell asleep. The only thing that kept me awake was the sudden and unexpected feeling of the boy’s lips pressing a soft kiss on my cheek.

“Goodnight.” he whispered and before I could reply, he left the room leaving me alone with the silence

My eyes went wide open, weariness disappearing almost immediately. With my heart beating so fast and sudden thoughts appearing in my head I was sure I wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon.

I woke up to the nice smell of waffles or pancakes combined with the smell of something burning. I smiled and slowly rubbed my eyes trying to make the overwhelming urge to close them and drift back to sleep go away completely. With a yawn I removed the blanket covering my body and threw my legs off the bed. The soft fabric of Chanyeol's oversized clothes gently hugged my body - they were still comfortable, even after sleeping in them.

The moment I opened the door and left the bedroom I could smell the food even better.

“You’re awake.” 

I turned my head and saw Baekhyun sitting on the couch with a cup of black coffee in his hands.

 “How did you sleep?” he asked kindly

I smiled sleepily as I ran my hand through my hair.

“Good. Thank you.”

The boy took a sip of his drink.

“You better praise Chanyeol for his efforts today.” he said jokingly “With his cooking skills he never makes a breakfast more complicated than the one consisting of milk and cereal. Really, I don’t think he’s put some much effort in preparing food for the past five years.”

“Y/N!” Chanyeol’s head suddenly popped out of the kitchen as he proudly announced “Come quickly! I made breakfast!”

I let out a small giggle as I watched the boy make his way to stand next to me.

“Told you.” Baekhyun mumbled while fixing his glasses before taking another sip if his coffee

“Told her what?” Chanyeol exclaimed

“Nothing.” his friend shrugged “Just how you’re preparing food.”

The pink haired boy just furrowed his eyebrows at him and before I could even notice he grabbed my hand and led me to the kitchen.

“Okay, look.” he placed his hand at the small of my back and started to point proudly at the waffles on the plates “I made those, but don’t worry. The pretty ones are for you and the burned ones are for me.”

“You didn’t have to.” I turned my head and smiled at him brightly “You let me stay over for the night. That was really enough.”

“Maybe I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” Chanyeol quickly grabbed one of the plates and handed it to me “Here.”

“Chan, I... “ I looked at him smiling “I don’t know how I’ll repay you.”

“Teach me more about flowers.” he winked at me as he slowly moved to brew the coffee “Oh, and I checked the flower you told me about yesterday.”

“Really?”

I sat at the small table and slowly started to munch on my waffle. Baekhyun's previous comment made me think that Chanyeol’s cooking skills were really tragic, but the moment I started eating I felt the sweet flavour on my tongue. I closed my eyes and let out a quiet hum of satisfaction.

“Wow.” I covered my mouth with my hand “It’s really good.”

“Thanks.��� the boy flashed me a smile, clearly proud of himself, as he poured coffee to two cups “From now on call me Gordon Ramsay.”

“Yeah, sure.” I sent him a playful eye roll “You have to work for that title a little more.”

“Trust me, I will.”

I took the cup of coffee he handed me and took a small sip of the drink savouring the familiar bitter taste. Chanyeol sat down next to me and started to munch on his own breakfast. 

“You’re actually right, they’re good.” he announced “Except the fact that mine are a little bit bitter, but I can live with that. Gordon Ramsay probably also burned a few dishes at the beginning of his career.”

I laughed at his comment and put my cup of coffee down.

“Okay, so listen.” Chanyeol spoke once more and from the small frown on his face I could tell he was thinking intensively “Delphinium is a flower that has many meanings, but its main ones are overall positivity and cheerfulness. It symbolizes the feeling of joy, warmth and fun. Am I correct?”

My eyes darted to his as I sent him an energic nod. I didn’t actually expect Chanyeol to check what I had meant when he had asked me for my thoughts. I thought he would just leave it and let the topic die down.

“Very correct.” I smiled softly

“Why?” 

“Why what?” I shot him a confused look

“Why did you say delphinium?” he took a bite of his least burned waffle

A small blush spread on my cheeks as I started to speak.

“Because I associate you with those feelings. You know, joy, fun and cheerfulness. You make me smile even on my hardest and most stressful days. And I was just thinking about how much I like your smile and the fact that you’re always cheering me up somehow. Ever since we first met.”

At this point I was staring at the table embarrassed feeling my face burning. Before I could even start overthinking the whole situation I felt Chanyeol grab my hand gently and place it between his two palms. His fingers wrapped softly against mine and I started enjoy the feeling how small my hand felt between his bigger ones.

I looked up at him and saw a warm smile on his face.

“Thank you.” he said “Whenever you say something like that I feel so much better. For example now, and when you gave me that motivating speech in the cafe.”

“It’s a win-win than, right?” my lips curled up into a smile

“Yeah. We just complete each other, that’s all.”

His warm chocolate brown eyes met mine. A comfortable silence filled the room as he caressed the back of my hand with his thumb softly. We were just sitting at the table smiling and staring at each other, trying to make this moment last forever.

Suddenly we heard somebody clearing their throat making both of us snap out of our thoughts. When we turned our heads we saw Baekhyun leaning against the entrance to the kitchen raising his eyebrows at us.

“I didn’t want to ruin you moment.” he said “But Chanyeol and I have a lecture in and hour so we have to get ready.”

“Oh, yes.” Chanyeol hesitantly let go of my palm “I forgot. Y/N, your dress has already dried. Finish your breakfast, no need to hurry. I’ll give it to you.”

The pink haired boy stood up and grabbed his friend by the shoulder while walking out of the kitchen leaving me alone. The only thing left was the ghost feeling of Chanyeol’s palms against mine.

[khlowx]

Whumptober 2020 ! (Haikyuu!!)

Prompt list by Angsy_Cheez-it on Wattpad.

English isn’t my first language sorry if there are mistakes.

Warnings : Hostages, robbery, gunshot, finger cutting, weapons, police, death...

Day 18 : Hostage. (Bokuto/Akaashi/Kuroo/Kenma)

Akaashi loved his new job and he didn’t want to brag, but he really thought he was good at it. In a month he had been promoted and had a lot more responsibilities. He was in charge of the coffee shop’s closure on the days with great influence. On late Mondays afternoons, there wasn’t many customers so it was the best time for him to invite his three boyfriends. Bokuto and Kuroo were so excited to finally come to see him at work, they were talking about it since he accepted the job. Kenma just had rolled his eyes every time the other two jumped all around and babbled about their visit.

Now they were at one of the tables just in front the counter, watching intensively as the dark-haired barista made their drinks : a vanilla cappuccino for Kozume, a latte mocha for Koutarou and a caramel macchiato for Tetsurou. Keiji brought them to the three waiting men and sat down with them, welcomed by blinding smiles and shining eyes.

“- You’re not drinking any ? the cats’ former setter asked, taking a sip from his cup.

- Not on a shift. That’s not very professional.”

The two others giggled, tasting their beverages and humming appreciatively. They all fell into a comfortable silent, the sun setting out and projecting some warm light inside the shop. Akaashi glanced at the clock, ten more minutes before he had to close. He was tired from his day, plenty of clients came today. He stood up, deciding that no one would come anymore since it was near seven pm. It seemed like he was wrong because a man all dressed in black and a hood on his head pushed the door furiously. The barista only had time to register the hiccup that left Bokuto’s mouth before a gun was pointed directly to his head.

“- The cash ! Give me all the money and everything’s gonna be fine ! the newcomer screamed, pushing his hostage towards the coffee checkout. You, hands in the air ! Away from the phones !”

The former setter complied, throwing a look at his lovers. They were all frozen, eyes wide and face livid. The criminal followed him and handed him a bag where Keiji hurried to put all of the recipe he made that day. He could feel the gun banging his head slightly as the man shook. His eyes lifted up to observe how the others were doing. Tetsurou was stoic, but he noticed his knee touching Koutarou’s one as the latter was completely panicking. Kenma had his own eyes riveted on the barista, checking for any kind of fear. They had locked eyes for a while before the robber yelled something to make his prisoner go faster.

How long had pass ? Five minutes ? Less ? More ? No one knew, but a first police car had parked in the middle of the road, sirens all loud. Two officers came out and pulled their own guns out. The intruder hid behind Akaashi, indicating for Kuroo to close the shutters. The dark-haired man stood up quickly and did as he was asked. The officers shot him a look of surprise but understood easily. What seemed to be a robbery in the first place turned to hostage-taking.

“- The back shop ? Is there another door ? the criminal asked angrily, shaking even more.

- Yes, it’s the first one to the-

- What are you thinking ? You’re coming with me dude.”

Once again, the barista was directed by the gun and by a hand pushing his shoulder forward. Bokuto was now whimpering weakly, being powerless as his boyfriend was taken away from him. Unfortunately, another cops’ car was waiting for them outside. The hooded man cursed under his breath and came back in the main room of the shop, making his hostage sit with the others. Guessing by the lights and sounds, a lot more of the police forces were out there now.

The four victims looked at each other, realizing that it was not a joke. They had no time to fully proceed this fact before the hostage taker came back to them.

“- Your phones, give them to me.”

He didn’t need to insist on that. After taking the items and saying that they could put their hands back down, he started to perambulate, tugging on his dark strands of hair. Great, he was panicked too. The coffee’s phone rang and every person in the room stared at it for a long amount of time before the outlaw picked it up.

“- What !?… No, I’m gonna tell you what is going to happen. You’re gonna give me a car and the assurance of leaving without being pursued. If you don’t, every hour you’ll have a piece of one of the hostages. There are four men with me, I’ve got enough material to keep up for hours. I won’t hesitate, believe me… What do you mean “no” ?… Listen to that and tell me no again, I dare you.”

On the other side of the line, every officers held their breaths. It was not long after this final sentence that a gunshot was heard. The negotiator closed his eyes, listening to every cry and shout of a name he didn’t know. There was a hysterical laugh before the robber took the phone again.

“- Got it ? An hour, that’s all you have before blood flows again.”

A beep signaled that the call had ended.

Inside of the coffee shop, it was chaos. Kenma was on the floor, applying pressure to Tetsurou’s thigh. The bullet didn’t come out of the wound and the rooster head was crying loudly. The pain was insufferable. Bokuto was hyperventilating in Keiji’s arms, next to their hurt lover. The dark-haired barista had his wide eyes fixated on the latter’s face, distorted in a really painful expression. They had all moved on instinct at the sound of the gunshot and the scream of Kuroo. At this moment, they didn’t care about being shot themselves, they didn’t mind the criminal behind their backs. All that mattered was their boyfriend and his well-being.

“- Tetsu, oh my god, Tetsu… the gray-headed kept sobbing, tears falling down his cheeks.

- He’s fine, he will be fine, it’s okay Bokuto-san… He has to.”

Akaashi was praying silently. He begged every god he knew for the police to give this man what he wanted. If they didn’t, he would not pay dearly for their skins.

“- He’s loosing a lot of blood. Kozume mumbled, his bloody hands still covering the wound.

- Yeah, he’s gonna die.” the outlaw teased, another laugh escaping his throat.

The two lucid hostages shot him dirty looks, gritting their teeth. The bleached blond would never let that happen.

After an hour, the rooster head was still conscious. The bleeding had stopped miraculously and the pain had been numbed. He was still pale and sweating, but he seemed fine anyway. The phone rang, everyone tensed up. Akaashi scooted near his boyfriends even more, blocking the crazy man’s way to them. The latter unhooked the phone again.

“- So ? You’re admitting your defeat, officer ?

- No. The Procurator said no. We don’t have the proof that you hurt one of your hostages.

- You want some proof ? No prob.”

The call was cut short once again. The negotiator took his head between his hands. He was so sorry for the men inside with that psycho. But the orders were orders, there was nothing he could do against that.

The conversation didn’t go well, as it seemed. Keiji felt shivers running down his spine when the criminal started to rummage through the drawers of the kitchen. He soon found what he was searching for. The knives. Oh no. If the knot in the black-headed’s stomach wasn’t enough, the bad feeling he got was enough for him to cling on his beefy lover’s arm. And he was right to do so, the robber walked to them. He grabbed Koutarou’s collar and tugged on it. The sobbing mess tried to wrestle but the weapon slid against his throat so he gave up quickly. Akaashi was now crying, gripped to the gray-haired man’s pant. Kenma had averted his eyes, stroking Kuroo’s cheeks and muttering some reassuring words. Bokuto was brought to the counter, force to sit down and to put his hands flat on the wood.

“- What are you doing for a living, dude ? the torturer asked like he was talking about the weather.

- I-I’m a-a volleyball p-player. For the MSBY Black Jackals. the other stammered, eyes locked on the blade.

- Oh, a celebrity. Even better. It would be quite difficult for you to play without one of your fingers, right ?”

Keiji’s brain stopped functioning. Loosing one of his digits would sign the end of Koutarou’s career, for sure. It would, it would…

“- You-you can’t do that…

- Oh, are you sure about that ?

- NO, NO, STOP, PLEASE…!”

Too late. It had happened so fast, even Kozume looked disoriented. The former ace of Fukurodani had not cry, not move… Even when he came back to sit with his companions, he only looked defeated. He was glaring where once was his right annular, now an empty place bleeding profusely. The barista took his hand in his and squeezed softly.

“- Are you alright ?

- No.”

With that the interaction was finished. They sat in silence once again, the gray-headed looking into the void, dejected. The shot one was starting to have a fever, the former Nekoma’s setter was apprehending the next move of the robber and Akaashi… Akaashi was so done. He wasn’t feeling angry or scared anymore. If it took one of them dying for the others to exit the situation, he would volunteer immediately. He barely noticed the man throwing the finger outside, hidden from the policemen by the door. He almost didn’t hear the phone rang once again.

“- Satisfied ?… Great, finally !… Oh, you can’t assure me a sure escape. Okay. If I go to jail, might as well go for something a little funnier then a cut finger and a bullet in some dude’s thigh, no ?”

It was enough. The negotiator shouted for the armed men to go inside the coffee shop. Enough blood had sank tonight. He won’t put the hostages in more pain anymore.

It had happened like in a dream. Kenma saw their torturer took some quick steps in his direction, the knife held high in the air. He saw him try to reach his chest, an evil look in his eyes. What he didn’t see was Keiji throwing himself between him and his assaulter. The door flew open and men in uniforms came in, shooting the hostage taker right in the heart. But the bleached blond didn’t care. His last boyfriend had been stabbed. He was dying in his arms and Kuroo was bleeding again, Bokuto was crying and screaming and bleeding too. Everything was so blurry, or was he finally crying ?